The Impatient Chef, and The Quest for Wings

The Quest for Wings, Scene 1, Rivertap 

The Fish & Chips were good, so why not.

On the heels of some disappointing chicken wings at a most ignoble national chain, I set off with Lady Gaia to attempt recompense in yonder The Dalles, which resideth in Columbia-in-Gorge, upon the most high Oregon, whereupon the we sateth down for what we hoped would be true Buffalo Wings of the most high order.

And order we did!

I reviewed Rivertap's fish and chips a short while ago, and readers may remember that I recommended them as being a 7 on the Rose and Thistle scale.  So, I wanted to see how good their wings were.  Since we were heading that way for other business, why not give the wings a try?

Rivertap's food is generally decent.  There are some standouts, as well as some navel-gazing dishes that cause a cocked head, mouth hanging open, "whut?" kind of response upon first reading them in the menu, but turn out to be pretty tasty as well.

Needless to say, we ordered the wings as an appetizer.  We also ordered the heavenly (I'm salivating, can't help it) Bacon-Wrapped Yukon Golds, and the soup and salad.

So, what about the wings?

Buffalo, Here We Come!

At first blush, the wings looked a little dry.  I usually find that the best wings gush with the sauce, which oozes all over the plate.  My first test was to tap on one with a fork.  I don't mind the skin being a little soft, but I don't go for rubbery.  The skin was firm.  Okay.  I'll take that as long as the meat is tender.  I then picked one up, and, as one must, dunked it in the dressing, and took a bite.  I was pleasantly surprised at the robust flavor for so little sauce.  Would I have liked more sauce?  Yes.  There was a little depth missing with the light touch.  Still, there was certainly some garlic, and hot sauce in the mix.  Also, the meat was indeed tender.  All in all, we both felt that the previous day's descent into the Seventh Circle of Wing Inferno (without Dante as a guide) left a little less sting on the palate after the napkins were exhausted.

Next came the Spuds.

You want these.  

I talked about these in my Rivertap Fish & Chips review, so I will say merely that they are to appetizers what Plato's description of the male and female's need to reunite in one body was to stone-age porn.  Once you have eaten of the fruit, you will claw your way across burning coals to get more.

The rest seems anti-climactic.

Pun intended.

The soup and salad came last.

Zoop!

Zalad

The soup was chicken noodle.  The use of shells for noodles was unique, and the flavor was chickeny.  It wasn't a standout, but it wasn't bad.

The salad was a salad.  It was fresh.  The dressing was balsamic.  It was good.  Who can ask for more?

And so, as the sun set quite literally on the first leg of our Quest for Wings™, I can report that the day's journey came to a goodly end, and Lady Gaia and Sir Chef (The Impatient) arrived at the inn, and stabled the coconuts.  All was well.

The Impatient Chef Should Have Known Better

The Impatient Chef Should Have Known Better

'Twas a Saturday in the town of Portland in the state of Oregon that my wife and I were in need of Buffalo Wings, and a fateful, and rueful, decision was made. More on that in a bit.  First, a few words about Buffalo Wings.

1.  Buffaloes don’t have wings.  
2.  The word “wings” in large, illuminated letters on the restaurant is no guarantee of deliciousness.
3.  Buffalo Wings are messy.  Bathroom paper towels on rolls don’t cut it.   

We were heading out of town when the subject of lunch was broached.  Gaia wanted wings. I tried to remember a nearby place that had them, and all I could think of was a place in Gresham, which is a suburb of Portland (but don't tell them that) which I will call “Wing Slop” so as not to use their actual name.  A place that specializes in wings must have at least passable wings, right?  This is an assumption that you, dear reader, may already have guessed, put the “terror” back into terrible. 

Really, Impatient Chef?  You can do better than "Wing Slop."  

We ordered 3 types: Original Hot, Garlic Parmesan, and Spicy Korean BBQ.  Of the first type, Original Hot, the taste was the best of the bunch.  They were spicy, and seemed almost like Buffalo Wings.  The Bleu Cheese dressing wasn't bad, either.  They weren't the best wings, but they weren't he worst I've had, but everything went downhill from there.  

I would suspect that Spicy Korean BBQ (given its name) should actually be spicy, and should not be cloyingly sweet.  I've had Korean BBQ.  I like Korean BBQ.  Korean BBQ these things ain't.  I can picture LLoyd Benson saying that to Dan Quayle right now.  You of tender years won't get that, but Google is your friend.

The last was the Garlic Parmesan.  There was parmesan cheese on it.  That, at least, they got right.  The garlic was sorely missing, as to be absent, and NOT THERE AT ALL.  The nugget-like exterior concealed a tasteless interior, that masked (just barely) a half-hearted attempt to produce lackluster food-rocks that an eight-year-old me with a sling shot would have really enjoyed.  

So, why am I telling you this?  To introduce "The Quest for Wings™."  In the coming months, I will attempt to find The Holy Grail of wings in Northwestern Oregon.  My search has already begun at Rivertap in The Dalles.  Stay tuned as Lady Gaia, and Sir Chef (The Impatient) bang our coconuts together, carry plenty of napkins, and seek the most holiest of morsels.  Onward!