The Super Bowl is upon us, fellas. Before we all watch that zany game with the oddly shaped ball and start arguing about legacies, Gronk, and halftime titty balls, we need to address the most important matter at hand: chicken wings.
There are so many questions. Bone-in or Bone-out (you know someone used this on Tinder and thought they were hilarious)? What flavors are you going with? Do you order a set amount or by the pound? These are the important, ultimately asinine questions that we are going to have to answer on the day of the big game.
Look, I’m not going to lie to you guys, I’ve been eating a shit ton of wings lately. Not sure how it happened, but I guess this is what Chicken Wing expert life is like. If it was a little yellow chick with hopes and dreams, I probably ate it over the last few weeks.
While it’s on me to wrestle with the fact that MAD chickens had to die for my happiness, it created a great opportunity to overanalyze the sauces/types of wings people like to get.
Mr. Popular. The belle of the ball. Look, you may not even want to order buffalo wings most of the time, but society and other environmental factors basically force you into ordering them. I get it, buffalo wings are delicious, but there is a ton of work involved in eating them. You have to choose between mild, medium and hot. And, if you pick hot, you have to pick from varying “hot” flavor types that have zero distinguishing qualities like “Lava”, “Atomic”, or “5-Alarm.” How the fuck do you determine lava is hotter than atomic energy, bruh? Toss in bleu cheese and ranch dressing and now your table is a mess. The whole thing is wild complicated if we’re being honest with ourselves.
Barbecue: For those of us that hate conformity, but want to conform just a little bit in the safety of the shadows. Although it is a simpler experience than buffalo, BBQ also tries to be a little too convoluted. As a grown adult with functioning taste buds, I still haven’t been able to confidently tell the difference between regular BBQ and honey BBQ at any point. The beautiful thing about BBQ that sets it apart is the fact that it’s safe. It’s for the cats that don’t want to push any boundaries or ruffle any feathers. If you love BBQ, you love the status quo.
Teriyaki is for outlaws. If you have the balls to sit in a room full of people and suggest that the whole group orders teriyaki wings, you’re a god damn crazy person. Don’t get me wrong, teriyaki wings are great, but they are always on the periphery of wing orders – the perennial “we need to pick one more flavor, what should it be?” flavor. Half the time I forget they exist. If BBQ wings are safe, teriyaki wings are the complete opposite. You can mess around and ruin a friendship over a misguided order of teriyaki wings out here.
Straight up no idea where Sriracha came from, but I’m not mad at it. One day it just kind of showed up and nothing has really been the same, including wings. I know the term “hipster” is becoming cliché and overused these days, but these are some hipster ass wings, man. They’re never on the menus, you have to go to the outskirts of town to find them, and you damn near need to know a secret handshake to order them. It’s stupid. Like beards and artisanal yogurts. If you are able to get your hands on these, cherish them, hold them close, and make sure you never brag about knowing about their existence first. Please. Don’t do that.
Get your priorities in order, Bros. There will be plenty of time to make fun of Tom Brady’s Uggs, hurl veiled racist “thug” insults at Richard Sherman, and pause your TV right at the most whimsical moment of Katy Perry’s performance of “Firework.” Get your wings first. Or else you’ll be too hungry to do any of that important stuff.