The Heat Beneath My Wings

I often say my tolerance for heat is, in comparison to most, sadistic. So with some conjecture, you can easily discern that I would be partial to hot wings. The term is liberally applied though. Not every plate passed off as hot wings deliver of the hot part.

Shrooms though; with its ‘Nuke Wings’ lives up to the name and then some. To begin with, you have a fried wing that is both crisp and tender. Well; not just tender, that would be an almost an insult. The meat was the most yielding of any wing I have ever had. Off the bone and in my face hole with no effort at all.

I guess that’s what’s meant by a false sense of security. Once you start eating, a flavour ‘Nuke’ goes off on your palate. The piquancy creeps up behind you but is front and centre soon enough.

Once it does, that’s all you need.

The flavour of a good hot wing should be balanced as such as to manage both the creeping crescendo of the caliente. It should also be able to pack a knock-out worthy punch of flavour.  Shrooms does both here to perfection! You are first treated to an aromatic assembly consisting of earthy notes, the kind you get from spices likes cumin. Those are then built up on by the mellow depth from garlic and the fruitiness of the chilli. The piquancy comes a little later and sets the fire ablaze, completing the symphony.

It does them great credit that the meat on their wings falls off with such minimal effort. I’ve had wings where let alone the meat, the sauce didn’t even release from the bone, without some great disparity of effort. There is a carnal satisfaction to be received from pulling meat off the bone with your teeth. Vegans turn away indeed.

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