I had been wanting to go to Duff’s wings for a really long time (years in fact) and finally we were going. Partly because it was recently voted best wings, and partly because I insisted. Saturday night we found ourselves in a not-too-busy-just-right Duff’s on College. We ordered 30 wings in total, getting to try three flavours. Brent had been recently and tried the medium, which they warn is not your regular medium and quite spicy. He found them so-so. Instead we ordered: medium-hot, spicy BBQ and hot honey garlic. Just for kicks we ordered a single Armageddon wing, the hottest wing they have on offer. We decided to leave that one for last, lest it destroy us. The medium-hot were an acceptable amount of hot, but based on what was written everywhere I had expected this level of hot from just the medium. The spicy bbq were actually quite mild. It is hard to say if I preferred those or my go-to honey garlic (made all the better with some heat). Needless to say what we could not finish was the medium-hot, 30 wings is a lot.
Then it was time. Brent took a bite first, he seemed OK. Going off the medium-hot actual hotness level, I was not afraid- I gamely took a bite. We sat there staring at each other. One beat. Two beat. Cue the tears, cue the table slamming, cue the “Oh god why did I do this?!” It hurt. It physically hurt the whole back of my mouth and down my throat. Every time I swallowed it just spread. I knew I could not drink water. In desperation I used a celery stick to scoop blue cheese dip into my mouth. But it was too gross, and only made the situation worse. We looked at each other, both grimacing and questioning our choices in life. I comforted myself by saying it will only last a few minutes. It will pass I kept thinking. It has to pass. It cannot last forever. All I could think of was downing my long island iced tea in one big gulp. Eventually it passed. We sat there and looked down at the rest of the wing, we had really just taken a tiny little nibble each, barely anything really. How did someone eat one, let alone 50 of these?! Did the wall of fame lie?
Afterwards we walked over to Kensington Market to get crepes for a pseudo-dessert. I was wary of a new crepe place, I’ve had some pretty damn good crepes in the city thus far. Millie Creperie offered Japanese style crepes. Mine had mango sorbet and strawberries and whipped cream. The trouble was taht it was served like a cone, and so all the toppings were at the top. It was hard to eat and uneven. Adding to the troubles it was simply not that good. The crepe was not fresh, had been reheated. It was chewy and lacked those little toasted crispy spots. It was a sad fail. That is until I had a bite of Brent’s- it was even worse. The green tea tasted like rotten pumpkins. I was not having it. Crepes should not be messed with.