Happy Friday, awesome Moxie-Dude readers!
Before we begin, I’ve prepared the following set of instructions for you.
Instructions for reading this post
Step 1. Read post through to end.
Step 2. Scroll back up and look at image above of BEFORE chicken wings.
Step 3. Quickly move on to another site before your eyes get Turette’s Syndrome
Step 4. Don’t question these instructions. There really is a method to my madness. Sometimes. Okay never but just trust me, okay?
For this week’s Out & About – Because Montreal is contagious I decided to take my kids to Cunninghams Pub in Ste. Anne de Bellevue for some chicken wing love. Lately getting my teens to do anything with me is almost as hard as getting them to make their beds in the morning but when I strategically mentioned chicken wings as a possible “family activity”, they agreed that hanging out wouldn’t be so bad. (And who can argue with 2-for-1 Tuesdays?)
My strategy for getting my teens to do anything almost always involves food.
Chicken wings are usually at the bottom of my “what do I feel like eating” list. Call me house-broken but scouring for small portions of meat on bones seems a little barbaric to me.
But I have to admit, Cunninghams’ chicken wings are like small drumsticks and very . . . um, chickeny. Choices include sweet BBQ, honey garlic (my fave!), lemon pepper and Jamaican jerk in mild, hot or suicide (for those who like to bully themselves into an inferno).
So there we were – teenagers, quasi-boyfriend and I – in a rare instance of “enjoying a meal together” (mostly because I had nothing to do with cooking said meal), when suddenly it came to everyone’s attention that I don’t know how to eat chicken wings. And when I say “it came to everyone’s attention”, I mean everyone EXCEPT ME.
PS. You’ve reached Step 2. Scroll back up and look at image above of BEFORE chicken wings.
Now go! Before this image of uncivilized eating gets stuck in your mind forever.