So, apologies to Kezar Pub and The Pizza Place on Noriega ― someday, I do plan on trying your Buffalo wings. Sorry, SO, I'll get there soon. I now have more incentive now to watch movies at the Bridge Theatre ― the prospect of walking across the street for a post-screening platter of sweet, chile-coated chicken wings and a plastic tub of Korean beer.
This week's restaurant review started off as an ambitious project: I was going to cruise around the city in search of its greatest chicken wings, afloat on fryer oil and pitchers of beer. Then two things happened: a) I spent nine days in a row eating barbecue, and realized that to follow it up with nine days of fried chicken would constitute self-abuse; b) after my third or fourth batch of wings, I couldn't stop thinking of the chicken that inspired the whole idiotic quest: the Korean fried chicken at Red Wings in Laurel Heights. Were the wings really that good? I went back to double-check. Yes. Yes, they were.
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