Confession: In moments of weakness and withdrawal, Agnes and
I have been know to frequent Buffalo Wild Wings and make pronouncements like,
“These are just as good as the wings Upstate or at Duff’s or Anchor Bar.”
Forgive us Father, for we know not what we say.
In my defense, the wings at Buffalo Wild Wings are decent,
passable examples of the wing making art, but they are not as good as the wings
found in Upstate, NY, let alone the real deal from The City of Good Neighbors.
I blame distance, both spatial and chronological. I am certain that if a profit were involved,
the science-y software engineer types at Google could develop an algorithm to
prove that the farther one gets from a given place and instance of consuming a
given food or beverage or rock and roll show for that matter, the easier it
becomes to fool you with decent approximations, passable examples or the band
Creed.
Plus, real deal wing joints do not need to be told:
1. what type of sauce (other than a particular Scoville unit
preference) to put on the wings they make for there is but one true sauce:
cayenne pepper, mediated with butter, occasionally and allowably tinged with
wing joint specific spices,
2. to fry the wings until they are actually and thoroughly
cooked which results in a crisp skin and tender meat that readily separates
from the bone. At lesser wing
establishments (LWEs,) one must ensure this practice by ordering the wings “extra
crispy,”
3. to put the right amount of sauce on the wings they serve. You will have to order “extra sauce” at an
LWE in order to receive a closer approximation of a true wing experience and
that lovable, end of meal challenge of consuming the “swimmers” at the bottom
of the service device. Having soaked for
20-30 in the pooled cayenne sauce, these wings are the true measure of one’s
wing consuming mettle. I firmly believe
that the consuming of “swimmers” at Duff’s should involve the awarding of
medals and a celebratory parade for the hearty soul who consumed these beasts
in their highest numbers, yes yes!
4. I am saying this for the last time, the demon mucus also
known as ranch dressing is for fucking salad.
It should never, ever be offered as a wing dipping sauce alternative to
bleu cheese dressing. There is a special
place reserved in Hell for the person that started offering this God forsaken
dipping sauce option for chicken wings.
Clearly, I have gone the long way ‘round the mountain to get
to my point: Scubber’s Wings, 186 Wolf Road, Albany, NY is indeed a real deal
wing joint offering perfect examples of the wing making arts: crisp, cayenne
saucy wings, with bleu cheese dressing and a sufficient number of “swimmers” so
as to make my heart sing with joy.
And, truth told, a beef on weck that might compete with the legendary Schwabl’s just outside Flour City
I do not want to fall into the close approximation, passable
example trap again.