Quaker Steak and Lube: The Atomic Wing

I have only two words for this hot wing: Mother F**ker.

I am not, by my nature, a fan of spicy food. My preferences on the Scoville trend just slightly above bell peppers. But when I found out that Quaker Steak and Lube sells a wing so hot that they make you sign a release form, we figured it was worth a try.

This thing was a beast. It was hard to breathe near them; the spice was so strong it burned my nose. They come with a side of jalapenos to help cool your mouth down after eating. I'm not going to lie, I was a little afraid.

I stared at them for a little while. Stalled a little while longer, waiting for a refill on my iced tea. My eyes began preemptively watering.

Finally, I just couldn't put it off any longer. Gingerly, I plucked up a smaller looking wing, holding it daintily between thumb and index finger. I bit in.

The pain was not immediate. Instead, it built in waves over a period of minutes. My drink glass, which I was absolutely certain had been quite full not mere moments before, was depressingly empty. I hungrily began chewing ice. 

My tongue now slightly numbed, I began to realize that my lips were now also burning, and sweat had begun to bead on my brow. I quickly caught myself in a foolish attempt to try and scratch at the corner of my eye. Nice try, atomic wing, but blindness will not be on the menu tonight.

All in all, the best way I can think of to describe this is to think of it as a beer. Specifically an over hopped west coast IPA, in that there was far too much of one specific flavor that might have been pleasurable if used in moderation, but instead ended up being an unappealing one dimensional explosion with no regard being paid for balance in the final product. 

Still, I'm a survivor, and I have the bumper sticker to prove it.