Day, the Twenty Sixth

Unquiet Meals

This is a story about chicken wings. You’ve been warned.

Little Bean puzzles over the entrance way to the Anchor Bar, filled as it is, top to bottom, with auto license plates, presumably from all the far flung places weary travelers have come to feast on the original Buffalo Chicken Wing.

In Buffalo, my native home, they are, of course, just called chicken wings.

“This is it kid-o,” I say, “this is the place where Chicken Wings got their start!”

“You’ve told me that a million times!” she laughs.

I’ve shown her my old house. I’ve taken her to the giant bison statue in my old neighborhood. We have purchased home made sponge candy.

And now, we are here with her cousin, my oldest nephew, Ben. We have reached the apex of our holiday pilgrimage. We have arrived at this holy place of hot sauce and deep fryers, the place so legendary that nobody really knows how it all came about.

The popular story is that the first batch of chicken wings were prepared around 1964 by Teresa Bellissimo, who owned the bar with her husband, Frank. Their son, Dominic had arrived unannounced with friends in tow and Teresa needed a quick snack. They had a pile of wings laying around, a part of the chicken normally reserved for stock, and on a whim, deep fried them. The Buffalo chicken wing was born.

Today, the Anchor Bar rolls on, a crowded, somewhat tourist-trappy joint near downtown with autographs of celebrities, the license plates and walls of literal old motorcycles lining the place. There’s also an enormous, metal rooster, as one would expect to find in such a place.

Ben an I order variations on the clasic chicken wing recipe and Little Bean orders the kids plate - three wings, fries and lemonade. We split some mozzarella sticks.

Locals may tell you that there are places to go in Buffalo to find tastier wings. Locals may suggest places in better neighborhoods or with less of an eye toward the tourist. Locals may even know of cheaper wing joints. And maybe all that is true.

But I always say, you don’t go to the Eiffel Tower for the view.

The Anchor Bar, which has been around since 1935, is a cultural institution, a destination, a generational haunt that no daughter of mine will be unaware of.

And so we eat - myself my nephew and my daughter, two of a handful of people in this world that I love beyond reason. We eat and the waitress brings Little Bean sauce samples, and we all try the fries in blue cheese, and my hometown swirls outside the window like a dizzy memory.

As she always does, my daughter has questions.

“How many chicken wings do you make every day?” she asks the bemused waitress.

“Oh my gosh honey, I have no idea! We make so many I can’t even count them!”

“I bet you make 7,000,” Little Bean suggests.

“I bet we do,” the waitress says. “At least that many.”

I told you this is a story about chicken wings, and I meant it. But food like this - the sort that’s in your muscle memory - is a time machine. A lot of people come to Buffalo to go to the Anchor Bar. I come here to remember, and to feel part of a line of townies that come back occasionally to connect. To give my own kids a taste of their dad’s past.

This isn’t new. I’m not inventing anything here. Hometown food can offer a direct line to our past.

On the way home, my nephew, who lives here now, says, “Next time, uncle Dan, let’s try Duff’s Bar. I like their wings a little better.”

This is his town now, his memories to be. I’m just a visitor.

“Ok, bud, next time you take me to your place.”

And on it goes. One chicken wing at a time.

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Hi everyone, hope you all had a nice holiday and are enjoying these daily reflections. Beleive it or not, we only have five to go. I’m curious what you’ve thought of this daily word blitz. I’m thinking of continuing on for as long as I can, but I know a daily pop up in your email can be daunting, and I don’t wish to become annoying. Let me know how you feel. Also, let me know how you’d feel about some measure of a paid subscription option. Finally, don’t forget to share and remember that on our final day, we’ll drop a big cover reveal for our next Rocks That Rock field guide. Anyway, here’s a link to the bookstore. On we go! Dan’s Bookstore