Lil Bro is a cultured enthusiast of the spiced delight and has not been able to get a decent wing for years (They do not exist in the North Left - there's some trade agreement between Starbucks and Microsoft that precludes them). Coming home late from Stone Mountain we decided to partake of dinner at a local eatery. This particular place is called Buffalos and they claim to have been made famous by their exceptional Buffalo Wings. They are foul and cretious liars. They do not love the wing. Lil Bro and I both ordered "Scorchin" wings. This is the level beyond "Hot". In a decent wing house in Buffalo an order of suicidal wings ("Suicidal" is the correct term. Their use of "Scorchin" should have clued me in right away that they were impostors.) would be remarkably close to my own handcrafted beauties. These were not suicidal. They were not scorchin. They were not hot or even medium-hot. They were barely medium. They were not crispy on the outside and delicately juicy on the inside. They were served with a profanity of vegetable matter assaulting them. They were served with "Bleu Cheese Dippin Sauce" that most closely resembled ranch dressing with black spotules in it. This uncouth offensive against my palate shall not go unrevenged. The karmic backlash alone should, at a minimum, result in the near destruction of their foul establishment.

Posted by: Jim at 11:59 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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