By Guest Blogger Andrew Kohn.
Every great man needs a personal mission in life. Jason sailed the open seas looking for Greek drama. Fievel searched a new country in the hopes of finding his lost family – just one little mouse out to conquer the world. And Bill and Ted went through time in search of a better grade and, in the process, found themselves. These journeys weren’t easy, but in the end, these men came out on top, better for the experience, true role models for future generations. My search, just as important, is to find the ultimate Buffalo wing.
I’ve come to one wonderful, unnerving, and momentous conclusion – the perfect wing is in the eye of the beholder. Over the past two weeks, I’ve eaten at six establishments known for their wings. Now, I know there are secret places throughout the region that produce incredible products; if, however, I want to find the best, I’ll start with what “experts” have determined as such. This was only phase one of my journey – the initial landing in the New World – and to be sure, I will continue this quest until the day I die – either of old age or kidney failure.
The criterion is easy – who had the best sauce, meat, and heat. To be clear, I’m in search of the perfect Buffalo wing. I know there are wonderful restaurants that create delicious dishes with chicken wings in all sorts of awkward and beautiful scenarios. I met some of them head on. My prey, however, on this hunt are the red sauced, fiery hot, blue cheese dipping, Buffalo wings. That wonderful export from a town with very little else going for it – they are the perfect snack food, appetizer, or main event.
Just as Christopher Columbus had unknown sailors directing operations on the Nina, Pinta, or Santa Maria, I relied on my co-captains to help me stay on course. And just like those captains, history shall not remember their names but simply refer to them as Frat Boy and Gay – a martini drinker and a kegger; they represent all spectrums of my real America.
Without further ado, let’s get to the ratings:
The first stop:
Uno Chicago Grill and Bar in Union Station. This was the base line. Also, a back up as Wingmasters in the cafeteria has closed down. These wings were traditional, not very meaty, and salty. Avoid the “Wowza” sauce unless you like a combination fruit leather/cocktail sauce concoction that is probably very popular somewhere other than the D.C. region. I drank a Sam Adams.
On to: Austin Grill in Gallery Place. These wings weren’t traditional, covered in a dry rub and grilled. The meat was the best we’ve tasted thus far on our journey. But these weren’t Buffalo wings. And, while I can appreciate a different wing when it owns its uniqueness, served with a hot chipotle mango sauce or something, you can’t just give me ranch dressing! You played your hand with the ranch Austin Grill, attempting to walk the fine line between traditional and quirky. Dump the ranch and find a good sauce (and while you’re at it, a new salsa recipe for your chips!) I drank a Shiner or two
Now the traditional: Hooters in Gallery Place. My initial question – when did women and families start eating at Hooters? It’s a real downer on the atmosphere. And Frat Boy wasn’t pleased either! These wings were breaded and covered in a “3 Mile Island” sauce. I hope the radiation from a nuclear meltdown is this bearable. These wings tasted like they were bad for you – a piece of fried chicken covered in hot sauce. And the vinegar hints were over-whelming. My final question – when did I start having to pay for blue cheese and celery? I drank more Sam Adams.
For the gay and gay-friendly: Nellies on U Street. These were breaded and had a lovely texture. They also tasted a tad buttery – not a bad thing, just unexpected. The breading was borderline mushy at times, but the sauce was nice and without a hint of salt. I drank a gin and tonic.
For the editors: Hard Times Café in College Park. These “original Texas” wings by description weren’t Buffalo-like. The presentation was the best we’d seen and the chili powder sprinkled on top gave some nice extra heat. There was a distinct sourness to them that was considered welcomed by some and not so nice by others. They were big and meaty, but a little tough. I drank a Magic Hat.
And the winner: Buffalo Wild Wings in College Park. This is a national chain making its way into the region. From its window you can see the IKEA and its meatballs beckoning you like a siren – fight back I tell you! These wings were hot, juicy, and not a bit salty. There are fourteen flavors of sauce to chose from- “wild” is hot with a salty taste and “blazing” just ridiculous – stick with the traditional “hot” and you’ll be in heaven. There are also thirty beers on tap. Leave it to a chain that specifically cooks Buffalo wings to create the best. I drank a New Castle and a Killians.
The results thus far, are not surprising. But now it’s time to delve deeper into the Buffalo wing underbelly of D.C. and find those hidden gems that would make Anthony Bourdain stand up and take notice. Out of pure principle, we can’t have a chain take the ultimate title so it’s time grab a wet-nap and hit the streets once more…