I just returned home from a local pub that offers ‘cheap’ chicken wings on Thursday nights. I hadn’t planned to go with my son and his friends, but I was hungry, chicken wings are tasty, cheap chicken wings are tasty and thrifty, and I’m all for being thrifty whenever possible. So how could I not accept their invitation? Plus, did I mention that I was hungry? (Even if you don’t have a degree via http://www.culinaryartsdegree.org this was an enjoyable meal.)
I have joined them on their ‘chicken wing extravaganzas’ a couple of other times this summer, so at least I knew what to order this time without asking for a menu and embarrassing everyone else at our table. I ordered ten chicken wings with mild sauce on the side, plus an order of french fries. I also asked for white wine, but apparently the truck didn’t come in today (makes me question why the pub owner couldn’t have simply gone to the local liquor store just a three-minute drive away and picked up a few bottles of their best white, but I guess beer is the big seller on Thursday nights and no one was overly concerned about disappointing one middle-aged white-haired woman). The waitress said they had red wine but I’m not much of a red wine connoisseur so I said no to that and relied on a Caesar (vodka and Clamato juice) to quench my thirst.
It’s probably not my place to comment on what the others at our table ate, but I will anyway. The two other women also ordered ten wings each and either french fries or onion rings, but the two men at the table ordered TWENTY chicken wings apiece! Twenty! That’s two zero! That is a pile of chicken wings if you ask me. And they ate them all plus a few wings that we women couldn’t finish. I was in awe that they could stand up afterwards and actually walk to the door without clucking or flapping their arms up and down.
I guess that’s just another difference between men and women–our capacity to eat that much meat at one time and return the next week for more of the same. As I said, amazing…
As for me, I’m very full and have had enough chicken wings now to last me for several weeks. I’ll go to the pub with my son and his friends again one night for another feast, but not for a while. Who knows, maybe by the time I do go back the truck with the white wine will have arrived and I’ll be able to toast the men and their ability to eat twenty wings apiece properly.