Please God may this not be an ongoing feature, but for the moment it’s Buffalo chicken wings. Andy introduced me to the glory of the Buffalo chicken wing back when we met twenty-three years ago, and in my mid-twenties my stomach could handle them with nary a gurgle.
Fast-forward to today, and I need two solid days (and as many bowel movements) to recover from eating a batch of them. No matter how healthy I trick myself into thinking they might be (because celery sticks) I simply have to face the sad fact that a fried piece of chicken doused in hot sauce and blue cheese dressing will never be good for me.
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