20 Wings and a Prayer

You can cross the Anchor Bar off my bucket list.

Last night my 12-year old son and I visited the original home of the original Buffalo Wing.

In Buffalo.

Starting Sunday, he will be playing in a baseball tournament in Cooperstown, NY.

The home of the Baseball Hall of Fame.

And far be it from me to pass up this opportunity to squeeze some more food into my life.

So we headed east a few days early to check out a minor league baseball game.

Or two.

And to get in some great eats.

Our first stop was the Anchor Bar, where as the legend has it...

There was a Friday night in 1964 when Teressa Belissimo, the owner of the Anchor Bar, was making some chicken soup.

But she said, “it’s a shame to put such beautiful wings in a stock pot.”

So she decided to serve up the wings to her son Dom and his friends.

That’s the way it is explained on the menu.

With some sketchy grammar and bad punctuation.

But you don’t come to the Anchor Bar for punctuation.

You come for the cholesterol.

Yada yada yada.

47 years later... my mouth is on fire.

Now if you are looking for one place to go for real Buffalo Wings, this is it.

Are they the best?

I can’t say.

Are they amazing?

I can say.

YES!!!!!!

They’ve got a few different flavors to choose from:

Mild - Wussy.

Medium - Next.

Hot - Now you’re talking.

Spicy BBQ -- I hear ya.

and

Suicidal! -- Need more be said?

My son and I ordered 10 of the Hot and 10 of the Spicy BBQ.

To start.

He wanted to try one Suicidal Wing.

But they don’t serve just one.

So they gave us the sauce to sample while we were waiting for our order to arrive.

I stuck my pinky in.

Just like you stick your pinky in the wine during the Passover Seder.

(That’s for my Jewish brethren.)

And for the first 15 seconds, the Suicidal sauce was unbelievable.

Such a flava.

For the next 15 minutes, the sauce was UNBELIEVABLE.

I don’t know what they put in there, but it was unreal.

Unfair.

Unedible.

Unanything -- as long as it means mother effing spicy.

I’ve had a lot of spicy food in my day.

And I love it.

But this was just too much for any human.

Well it was certainly too much for me.

Our waitress told us there’s somebody who has come in three different times to eat a bucket of the Suicidal Wings.

At the Anchor Bar, a “bucket” = 50 Wings.

One person.

50 Suicidal Wings.

One sitting.

Three different times.   

No joke.

She then added that she hasn’t seen the person in a while.

Really?

You know why Flo...  

HE’S DEAD!!!!

Now just as this sauce was getting ready to burn through my intestines, we got great news.

Our wings were ready.

All 20 of them.

So we jumped right in.

And for the next 10 minutes, I thought I was eating with Dick Enberg, because the only thing my son could say was....

“Oh My!”

He said it about 20 times, pretty much between every bite.

And that’s all he could say.

Clearly these wings were living up to the hype.

And that’s a good thing.

During the meal, we had our water glass refilled four times.

Fortunately Niagara Falls is only 15 minutes away.

But I haven’t enjoyed Wings this much since Paul McCartney’s first solo album.

Moist.

Crunchy.

Flavorful.

Perfect.

Did I mention perfect?

Now, the Anchor Bar does have other things on the menu.

Like Hot Sandwiches and Cold Sandwiches.

And Fried Haddock.

And Cheese Ravioli.

And Sauteed Chicken Liver and Mushrooms.

Really.

But why?

Why would you go there for anything other than the wings?

There’s even a sign outside reminding you why you are there.

246.8 million Chicken Wings served.

How’d you like to be the guy who does the counting?

More water please.