Maybe it is our flair for magical realism that has caused the confusion, the blur between food prose and food verse. But it is that blur, the waking dream between digestion and exposition which is the art of food fiction: That which separates us from the Bourdain's of the world. We are not simply using our words and minds to express sensory details of the dining experience, we are using language to express the fantasies food and life have to order.
This post on Buffalo Wild Wings has been written from the moment that the dreamer wipes the dew from his eyes. When he starts to separate the actual events of his life from the sleeping fantasies. We have added nothing, no characters, no details, that were not actually part of our experience at Buffalo Wild Wings: For even the most gifted writer of lies could not make this up.
Hans and Mendez recently made a bet with a friend. The details are too meticulous to get into, but they are both puzzled how a pound of feathers can weigh the same as a pound of gold. Their victorious chum struck a match against Mendez's ear. His serpentine eyes glimmered. "Hans and Mendez, my dearest bros, the stakes were high but it looks like I won't be sucking an egg through a garden hose. However you two must concede to my whim and we shall dine at... Buffalo Wild Wings."
Buffalo Wild Wings is a chain restaurant full of neon characteristics. You'd typically find one at the shopping mall right next to a variation of the Sunglasses Hut. New Haven's offering of good restaruants makes the inclusion of Buffalo Wild Wings draw many questions, mostly why? It's difficult to walk by the restaurant without getting a headache from all the televisions. Hans had difficulty processing the fact Buffalo Wild Wings is not a Best Buy, "People eat here?" he asked. The trio proceeded to a table to be greeted by a friendly server. She recited the Margarita specials, specially noting the more masculine of the set having amareto in it. If amareto is masculine, consider Hans Bette Davis.
The lighting is key at Buffalo Wild Wings as they need to be dim enough to let the televisions shine like diamonds. Its like sitting in a Budweiser commercial from the 90's where all you can see is product placement lights. This allows everything else in the restaurant to appear in an affected shade. Who knows what the glistening chicken legs really looked like, all we know is that they require a lot of napkins and act of penance to get through.
The bloggers and their friend ordered a bunch of chicken wings whose flavor combinations resemble those of Doritos. Garlic Blue Cheese Ranch wings taste no different from Sweet Butter Pecan Cough Drop Wings in the end, and with that lighting its difficult to differentiate what you're picking up. Hans ordered a bacon cheddar burger, the taste of which can be defined as burnt and ordinary. Don't bother to look for any taste of freshness. The french fries served are frozen Brand X with a snow white coloring. Hans thought of making another bet, to turn on his black light, but the rest of the table declined for fear of how much grease the table really soaks up.
The Wings used to be 38 cents, according to our "friend," but their 50 cent price is appealing to the hungry. Mendez suspects the price increased out of fear of being a cheap alternative to Domino's.
The waitress is the only sign of humanity in Buffalo Wild Wings, as she expressed some form of personality. The bartender is a former school bully who made Mendez squak like a chicken for the amusement of substitute teachers. The manager, a high school senior, patiently waited for his parents to honk the car horn. All these people toil at this Lazer Tag environment for hours and hours while mid 90's hits shatter the ear drum. Hans and Mendez thought of saving the waitress, lifting her on their shoulders and treating her to a night on the town, but she has to make a living somehow.
Buffalo Wild Wings is the worst of America miniaturized. It sits like a mosquito light on Church Street across from an abandoned storefront. We're going to petition for a health food store. If Americans are viewed as obnoxious and obese and wasteful, Buffalo Wild Wings is one of those reasons. Who knows how much sugar and fat goes into a meal at this place? The margaritas look diabetes inducing. The tomato and onion on the burger don't make up any fraction for fruit and veggie daily intake; we recommend serious exercise before and after eating here.
By exercise we don't mean to take advantage of Buffalo Wild Wing's punching bag contest, wich is offered along with free pay-per-view when UFC matches are broadcast. The menus are notable for being lined with gimmicks applying to random hours. One special being a 12 minute service guarantee during lunch. It goes without saying, you're not taking a date here. If you are a regular, it goes with out saying, that you can not get a date.
Beer, booze and wings is a common business model, but Buffalo Wild Wings gets it all wrong. You're getting the worst quality in everything. Mendez lacks a mean bone in his body, as opposed to Hans Wolverine-esque adamantium frame of snark, but he recommends bringing Tequilla to McDonalds if all you're after is booze and junk food.
Food fiction is a tough racket. There may not be such things as Frankenstein's, Chupacabra's, or Tikbalang's. There is, however, Buffalo Wild Wings. The horror, the horror.