A Wholly Incomplete Discussion of Buffalo Wings

Having attended the University of Rochester, and having lived in upstate New York, then, for just less than five years, I know a little about chicken wings. On Sunday, I had a pleasant and surprising wing experience I wish to relate. Read on.

FIRST: a brief message to my readers in the upstate New York region.

Hi friends. I'm going to talk about wings for a moment. I need you to basically pretend I'm not. I've spent far too many hours arguing the merits of Anchor Bar v. Duff's (2008); I grew too many gray hairs advocating for On The Rocks over The Distillery. I can't take it. I know you all have an opinion; the good Lord knows I do too. But all I wish to do here is mention and extoll the virtues of the wings I've discovered at one particularly place in DC. There is in the text hereafter no implication whatsoever that these wings are in any way better than Nathaniel's or Mark's or any of the other wonderful options available in the Upstate. Thanks!

Now that's out of the way, I will provide context. On Saturday night, I was faced with an extremely concerning situation: I had yet to find an acceptable location to watch the Patriots' home opener the following day. The food wasn't really a concern; I had brunch plans with RLK, JB, and Suburban Sweetheart (@Ulah Bistro, a staple in my brunch rotation). Having food was a plus, however; we ARE talking about a three-hour football game, but in finding a sports bar, the keys were a) must be showing the game, b) must be showing the game WITH volume, c) reasonably close to U street so I wouldn't miss kick-off, and d) must not be a Colts bar (as in a place where Colts fans assemble. Oy.)

I made a series of calls and did my research through Yelp and elsewhere, and settled on Buffalo Billiards. I'd been before, so I knew the venue was pretty huge with plenty of TVs; it didn't seem that it would be overrun with fans of another team; and I'd had a decent time in the past, so I figured, what the hell.

GREAT DECISION. Though the volume for my game was lower than I would have wished (too many others being played concurrently), the beer was cheap, the Pats won, I made friends (Go 'Skins!) and, as it turned out, the chicken wings were EXCELLENT.

Let me back up. Chicken wings aren't a staple in my diet -- I would die of cholesterol poisoning. They are a treat, like a cigar or a scotch, and as such, I treat them similarly -- as an experience. I'm not being over the top; I'm serious. Wings make me think of football. They bring me back to the best wings I've ever had, and the people I shared them with. Good wings remind me of half-priced appetizer nights with my best friends in college, of visiting Rochester, of a perfect Patriots season (16-0-0!).

For all this to happen, for a wave of nostalgia and contentment to crest and break and wash over and through me, a certain threshold of quality needs to be attained in my wing. It needs to be BIG; it needs to be tender and juicy. Wings need to have sharp, spicy, Buffalo sauce-flavor throughout, not solely on the exterior. They shouldn't have crusty skin and the sauce shouldn't be syrupy. A lot can go wrong in a wing -- and nothing did with the wings at Buffalo Billiards. They were solid, respectable, tasty, and cheap (10 wings for $5.50/20 for $9/30 for $12.50).

I personally believe that solid, respectable, tasty, and cheap are about the best accolades possible for a wing outside upstate New York, so Buffalo Billiards: Hungry Sam Salutes You.

The one picture I could take before my wings were...unphotographable:

Crab Cakes: A Quest Ended before it Began

Today I am going to Annapolis, driving deep into uncharted Mary-land to see what's up in what I've heard is a pretty cool place.

Under any, ANY, other circumstances, I would during this trip stop at various locations, taste-testing crab cakes, looking for the ultimate in near-DC crab cake perfection.

Too bad I found it already. That is to say, several weeks ago, and then again last night, I was the fortunate recipient, one of a Chosen Few, to enjoy crab cakes the likes of which my poor New England imagination could not quite grasp. They were just one dish of several -- but clearly the brazen highlight -- of the meal so graciously served to me aboard the U.S.S. Sequoia, the erstwhile Presidential yacht, by its President and owner, Gary Silversmith. And if the notion of a cruise aboard a floating, sailing Presidential historical landmark doesn't excite you as it does me (and it does!), these crab cakes should.

But allow me to be precise: there is nothing cake-y about these treats -- in fact, the restaurant from whence they come, Jerry's Seafood in Bowie, MD, calls them "crab bombs." The ingredients, if I'm not mistaken, are: Epic lumps of crab meat, butter, mayo and Old Bay seasoning. I could be wrong, but I'm not. The bombs fall to pieces as you take fork to them (it took a couple tries to get one that looked fully cohesive -- attempts that constituted real hardship, to be sure). The meat is almost creamy, so tender and smooth as to melt in your mouth, with the requisite and exceptional kick provided by the traditional Old Bay (or homegrown equivalent).

These are just TOO GOOD. It's as though the Patriots had won the Super Bowl in 2007 in addition to winning every other game that season -- I would have needed to just stop watching football, because, let's face it: nothing else could possibly compare.

Fortunately for my exploration of Mid-Atlantic cuisine, I have a stronger heart and a firmer will when it comes to crab cakes. We're going to MD. I'll try not to compare everything I eat to crab bombs -- I'll try.

BREAKING NEWS UPDATE: PB&B&J

This is a Breaking News Update from my desk at work: I am eating the most delicious Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich that has ever been or will ever be. It has banana slices. BANANA SLICES.

It's on whole wheat multigrain bread from Trader Joe's, using organic crunchy peanut butter, and jam that our family makes from family-picked strawberries every year. It is amazing and I am ecstatic about it. Here is a picture; I wish I should give you all a bite, but then there would be nothing left for me.

PB&J's are having a bit of Renaissance in my tastes, for whatever reason; I think I've just made peace with Peanut Butter. And Bananas.

A more fully-though-out posting on something that someone else might care about to follow later tonight or tomorrow.