Some people in this world — my deskmate Kevin is one — plainly have a defective personality that causes confusion of painful food with delicious food.
He loves him some hot wings from Nuttin' But Wings on Jefferson Street, because when you order "hot," they're ... well ... truly inflammatory. He offered me one. Duh! Of course I'll have one. Who doesn't love hot wings?
But oh fortheloveofpete, not these wings. Bite one: one brief flash of chicken flavor, then WHEW this is HOT! Then it's, HOLY COW CALL SOMEONE LIPS ON FIRE! — that kind of hot.
After half a bottle of water, I rallied for the second bite. LIPS ISSUE DANGER WARNING TO TONGUE, TOO LATE. It seared off my taste buds, so the chicken flavor never registered at all.
I gave up and apologized for wasting a wing. I'm no sissy, but I know a fire hazard when I taste one.
"Do the Nuttin' But Wings people get to know you before they'll serve you the hot wings?" I ask. Because really, they're that hot. "No. The hot, it's just badass," he says.
Man knows what he's talking about. Have you tried them?