For at least ten years now, Buffalo wings have been a part of American cuisine. We’ve already had the funny (?) commercial where the father informs the son that buffalos don’t have wings, to which the son replies, “That’s because you ate them all.”
For me, the chicken is inconsequential. I would be just as happy with several shots of that sauce.
There are restaurants who specialize in the Buffalo wing phenom, such as Buffalo Wild Wings, Miami Wings, and Quaker Steak and Lube.
Most restaurants, including Applebees, Chili’s, Big Boy, Denny’s and even McDonald’s, have hopped on the Buffalo train. (Good idea sirs.)
Until recently, Bennigans was not a part of this spicy hot clique. Efforts to maintain their authentic Irish menu have crumbled.
“Can I get you something to drink, ladies?”
“Water with lemon, please.”
“Alright, I’ll be right out with that, ladies.”
My friend Sheila and I were pleasantly surprised to see “NEW! Boneless Buffalo Wings” on the Bennigans menu. Why not?
“Here’s you’re water, ladies. Do you ladies know what you want to order?”
(Apparently, he noticed we were of the female gender, as he referred to our sex in each sentence directed at us.)
“Yes, we’d like to split an order of the boneless Buffalo wings.”
“Buffalo wings? You know they’re hot?”
This caused Sheila and I to pause. Hot buffalo wings? If he felt compelled to warn us they were hot, did this mean that they would melt our tongues off? What is this “hot buffalo wing” of which you speak?
So I inquired, “Do you mean, hotter than usual, or just “Buffalo wing” hot?”
He snickered. “Well ladies, buffalo = hot.”
(Of course he said “equals” because you can’t say “=”, but “=” conveys more distinctly the fact that he thought he was informing us of something we would not be schooled in.)
“Yes. We’ll take the wings.”
“Alright ladies.”
When he brought us “ladies” our order of Buffalo wings, the little nuggets of chicken had barely touched that fiery nectar. I could just imagine this guy going back in the kitchen.
“Yeah, there are a couple of ladies out there who ordered the wings. But I don’t think they know what they’re getting into. So light on the sauce for the ladies, okay?” (Homestar Runner fans? Read that sentence again, a la Strong Bad.)
So I waved the guy down and asked for an extra side of sauce.
“Sure! Blue Cheese dressing?”
Did I stutter! Did I ask for dressing? Do I look like a frickin sissy?!
“No. Actually, the wing sauce.”
“Oh, ok.”
So I got my extra sauce. And my eyes watered and my nose was runny, just like it should be when you are enjoying Buffalo wings.
