Bellisimo Buffalo Wings

My son and his girlfriend/fiancee came home this afternoon and I heard whispering. To a mom, that is a sign that she needs to investigate so I jumped up and ran downstairs before any 'evidence' could be hidden. (whispering can mean there is a house rule about to be broken and mothers need to quietly run in order to prevent this from happening or at least to catch sight of some evidence of the 'crime.')

I hear Kim quickly say, "Hurry! Here she comes!"

What the heck are they up to? I know I'm on to something now. I catch a blur run past the corner and into my kitchen and I know, I KNOW what is happening.

"You have buffalo wings, don't you?" I confront them.

"Ma!" my son looks exasperated. "I haven'y eaten today. Please!"

Ah ha! I should have known. Buffalo wings, indeed!

MY NAME IS BEEJ AND I AM A WING ADDICT.

No joke. I am serious. I am not a huge eater. One slice of pizza, two at the most, and I am full. I rarely eat in between meals (unless you count those wonderful chocolate covered espresso beans that I sneak eat several mornings a week) but i can eat buffalo wings until I almost make myself sick.

The other day I sat here in front of my computer eating a pile of these things and trying not to get hot sauce all over my laptop. I ate...are you reaady?...fifteen of them! All by myself! Usually I'm a neat person. I really am. But when I am eating these things, i fall into an abyss and become almost feral. if you tied up my hair and put a bone in it, ala Pebbles Flinstone, stuck me by a fire in front of a cave, I would fit right in.




Messy?? Oh my goodness, I cannot even begin to tell how messy I become. I have hot sauce dripping from my chin, smeared across my cheeks, dripping on my clothes. My fingers do stay relatively clean because I lick them between each wing. From the neck up, I look like a big wing, swimming in hot sauce. In fact, I would probably be wise to strip down to nothing, climb into the bath and eat wings right there in the tub.

Do Europeans eat buffalo wings? I have no idea, but here's brief history: This is where it all began, In the Anchor Bar, Buffalo NY.



Legend has it that the owners, Teressa and Frank Bellisimo, were at the place, serving beer to the Catholic locals, on a Friday night. At midnight, the once obligatory Friday fast from meat ended and because of a miscalculation, the Bellisimo's had an abundance of wings left over from what they usually used for their sauce. The crowd was hungry, so the Bellisimo son, Dominic, says, "Ma! Throw those wings in some hot sauce and fry 'em up, ok?" So she did and they fed it to the by then starving patrons. The rest is history.

Btw I love the name, Bellisimo. In my mother's tongue it means, 'beautiful.'
And did I eat any of my son's wings? You bet I did.


And here they are, my fifteen buffalo wings: