Yesterday: Thursday "Wing Night" at Tamarack Island Inn down in Stokes Bay - double your order for the same price. As a self-appointed chicken wing guru, how could I resist? Now when you've had the best (1-Andrew's, 2- Colonel Clarkes, 3-Scullys), you approach the situation with tempered expectations. We've all been duped by the bogus claims of 'world famous wings'.
The wings arrived in a basket lined with wax paper. Good size, a bit crispy on the outside but still juicy on the inside... just how I like them. But what's that in the bottom of the basket? A delicious slurry of wing sauce, butter and grease. Is it possible? As the first wing entered my mouth it confirmed what I had suspected.... this was the original Colonel Clarke's recipe. I ate the plate of wings quick enough to ensure my stomach receptors didn't have time to send the 'full' signals to my brain before a second order was en route. All the while, my mind drifted to the good 'ole days at the tavern - some of them I even remember.
Towards the end of order # 2, I couldn't help but wonder..... would the wings still have the same effects on me? Had the recipe changed at all? Or more importantly, had I evoloved physiologically over the years? The simple answer is no, not at all.
The contractions began at approximatly Cyprus Lake Road. I stepped on the gas pedal a bit more and clenched vital organs. At the south end of Tobermory, some relief off-gassing was necessary; a carefully executed fart could buy me enough time to get home. But unfortunately, I was overzealous and it happened. Call it what you want: a shart, a skidmark, a turtlehead. There was nothing I could do, it was too late.
What's the point of the story? Science. Tamarack has been able to precisely replicate the Colonel Clarke's wing formula. And I have the skidmark to prove it.
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