Posted on May 12, 2013
Chandler, Reviews |
He kind of looks like a creepy, rapist Friar Tuck
I recently read a review from some seemingly nice fellows about The Hungry Monk in Chandler. They extolled the virtues of its beer list, the convenience of its location with regard to proximity of other craft beer hotspots (specifically San Tan Brewery and Whole Foods) and mentioned they loved the wings…
…the boneless wings.
I have to give credit to these guys though, The Brew Bros [Editor’s Note: Why can’t we have a catchy name like that? The Wing Warriors? The Imbibing Idiots? The Drink….Drinkers?], they seem pretty legit in their knowledge of craft beer. They’ve got interviews with San Tan Brewery and reviews of out-of-state breweries, whereas all we have to show for our dedication to the craft is getting drunk at a beer fest and getting drunker at a different beer fest. Then again, we also spent a lot of our time narrowing down the exact science that is the art form of the buffalo wing, so we’re not completely useless. And since The Hungry Monk has developed a reputation for both their craft beer list and their wings, what better place to expand our beer repertoire (read: drink more beer and act like we’re doing it for science)?
Posted on August 24, 2012
Chandler, Reviews |
If it was SLCPD, we’d have been arrested on sight.
Photo Credit: gotime.com
We were called “wing snobs” very recently by someone who had read our Native New Yorker article and didn’t particularly agree with our stance on their breaded wings (our stance is “fuck breaded wings” in case you missed it). Never mind the fact that WE called ourselves wing snobs in that very article, this fellow saw it fit to demean us by saying we were pretentious about hot wings; that is, he thinks we as writers try to impress you as readers by acting like we’re better than we really are or that we act like we have more importance than we truly possess.
The thing is, just how snobby can one be while their hands and face are drenched in hot sauce and they’re ripping chicken meat from the bone with their teeth? How much could we hope to impress anyone out there when we’re basically killing ourselves with cholesterol and liquor and getting fatter by the week just to make this thing happen? While Tyler and I like to call ourselves Wing Snobs in a self-deprecating manner, the fact is that we’re still just average shitheads who like wings and beer, as I would imagine you all do…at least, I hope you like wings and beer. Otherwise, why are you reading this? Are you stalking me? Are you that guy that keeps taking pictures outside my window while I’m changing and mailing me the Polaroids with a lock of your hair and a note that says “Let’s have a tea party”? …I’m sorry, it’s been a weird week.
My point is that we’re not being pretentious, because that would indicate that we’re trying to impress you and it’s quite the opposite. It’s not that we’ve gotten the equivalent of a Harvard education in Buffalo Wings and we’re trying to talk down to you all while we teach you about them. It’s that we’ve trekked to the Hot Wing Nepal to seek Buffalo-enlightenment and come back spiritually awakened, and now we’re out to spread the good word about how much better your wing-life could be if you too followed the ways of the Spicy Chicken Buddha.
Posted on April 18, 2012
Gilbert, Reviews |
It’s severely out of focus. In writing, they call that “foreshadowing”.
Take note of my surroundings, I tell myself. Remember any names that are mentioned. Remember the layout of the place, I tell myself. Remember the sounds of the street outside. Try to preserve as many details as possible so you can describe it to the police when you’re rescued from this kidnapping, I tell myself. Where am I? Is this a Jigsaw trap? Why do I find myself glued to this chair in this crappy restaurant being force-fed these absolute abominations of hot wings? Oh sweet merciful Gilbert Christ of Latter Day Wings, deliver me from this pile of shitbones covered in crap! M. Night Shyamalan twist ending: We came to Flancer’s by choice.
We normally start these posts by giving you a chronological story about our night of wing-eating, starting as we walk up to the place and ending at some bar trying to master the fine art of assholery. I can’t do that with this post, because it would be a disservice to you and to anyone who ever thought about possibly contemplating the idea of starting to think about eating a wing, ever.
Look, I don’t know Mr. Flancer. I don’t even know if there IS a Mr. Flancer or if some corporate shitstains just decided that they’d name a small chain of restaurants something kind of kitschy and catchy. I don’t care. I know I might hurt some feelings here, so I should state for the record that we only tried the wings here. Nothing else. People have told me that their sandwiches are quite good and that they enjoy their time at Flancer’s. I don’t fucking care. I hope their deepfryer accidentally gets caught in an unfortunate smelting accident.
Posted on April 4, 2012
Phoenix, Reviews |
Not pictured: Homeless Mascot
I remember it drizzling the night we made the trek all the way to Glendale, far out of our cushy east valley snobbery (just kidding, I live in Mesa. I am above NO ONE) to visit Angie & Jimmy’s. I remember traffic being heavy on the I-17, Phoenix’s ugliest freeway. I remember that Google Maps told me this place was across the street from a Pro’s Ranch Market and across the street from a dive bar that would put most dive bars to shame. I remember the lack of signage on the restaurant’s front and I remember the dubious placing between a convenience store with no gas pumps and an adult boutique that I assume had several “pumps” of various natures.
I remember a lot of things about the night we went to Angie & Jimmy’s Italian Pizza, but somehow the thing that stands above all of those memories is the taste, texture and smell of their wings, because they were PHENOMENAL.
In a previous review, I mentioned that Buffalo Brown’s Wings & Things was a shithole of a dive, and boy did I mean it, but Angie & Jimmy’s may have them beat for sheer shit-tasticness. Look, this place doesn’t even have the name of the place on the sign out front. It just says “PIZZA”. Had we not already read from other reviews that this place is hard to find, I would have driven right past it, slammed on my brakes, skidded from the rain, rear-ended some ese’s sweet ’94 Caprice and then had to fight Lil Joker and eventually take a bullet for Tyler so his child wouldn’t grow up fatherless and alone and scared to buy burritos because a Mexican murdered her father right in front of “PIZZA” and a porn shop. So for the love of all that is holy and delicious, CHANGE YOUR GOD DAMNED SIGN, A&J’S. I’ll start a petition if I have to, damnit. (more…)
Posted on February 23, 2012
Reviews, Tempe |
After one of our wing nights we ran into a couple of Xavvi’s old friends and, because we have no shame, we started talking about the wing blog. Xavvi’s friend Stoney said he knew of a place that we HAVE to visit. We love getting recommendations but since it seems a lot of people like to rave about shitty wings we took that with a grain of salt.
He said that NY Boyz on Apache has the best wings you could get. He compared them to Teakwood’s, going so far as to say that NY Boyz blows them out of the water. That is a pretty bold claim considering that Teakwood’s has some of the best wings I had had up to that point. Regardless, we agreed we would give it a try.
When we looked up the location of NY Boyz it was hard for me to picture it. It is located on Apache Blvd near River Rd. I used to live about a half-mile down from there at University and River and the only thing remember at Apache and River was a condemned motel that prostitutes used to hang out at before it was shut down. Turned out NY Boyz was just on Apache just past the prostitute motel in a new building.