Buffalo Wings + A Poem

Last Wednesday I had some Buffalo wings after a four-month wing time-off, which reminded me of a poem I once wrote on the subject for my de facto Buffalo wing partner-in-crime Dan. Wings were first introduced into my life at the infamous Chuck's Spring Street Café in NJ during undergrad. Once in NY some friends and I survived a wing road trip to Buffalo, NY. Our goal was to try four different wing places in a day, and we succeeded...our first bouts of heartburn notwithstanding. These days I still believe any food is best the closer you are to its source, yet I also admit that good wings can be found even in LA if you look around long enough (thanks Hot Wings Café, and ok thanks even to you Hooters). Yeah I think about wings a lot; hence the poem.

But first a little clarification on:

1. The phrase “two singles, medium, extra crispy”:

a. "single" = an order of 10 wings at the fave place of me and Dan, Atomic Wings. In the early days, when our trust was thin-skinned, Dan and I would each order a single, rather than one double, so there’d be a guaranteed balance of wing distribution.

b. "Medium" = the heat level we preferred (heats @ Atomic are: for the sane -- mild, medium, hot; for the insane -- abusive, nuclear, suicidal).

c. "Extra crispy" = well that’s the best way to eat 'em... fried just a little bit longer so the skin is crispy, not fatty.

2. One more thing: Duff's, La Nova and Anchor are some of "the" wing spots in Buffalo, NY, where Dan is from.

Ok I now present to you...

The Buffalo Wing Poem

by Marly Miller © 2/22/96

(read in an exhibitionist Beatnik style)

Two singles, medium, extra crispy.

Their coupling, it was Fated.

The word "diet"? Oh puh-LEASE.

The antithesis to "day job"

Is some fat in arteries!

Kindred pals oft take the subway

To the only truth they know:

Tastebuds only quench from flames

From our beloved Buffalo.

Two singles, medium, extra crispy.

Primal visions we imagine

Take the place of beaus or dates:

Orange fingers, orange faces,

Orange napkins, orange plates.

If "one" is if by land,

Well then "two" is if by wings.

How about new honey-mustard

Or barbeque flavorings?

Two singles, medium, extra crispy.

Not a capon, nor some pheasants;

A mere chicken is our kingdom.

We'll be happy being peasants

As we revel in our wingdom!

Go La Nova, or go Duff's, dear.

Too there's Anchor and Atomic.

Followed by some Ben & Jerry's?

Lesser souls would surely vomit.