Miles 1.96
Friends, Romans, Countrymen lend me your ears….Actually we are not here to bury Caesar. We are here to talk about wings and bike riding, a task far more noble and meaningful than giving a Eulogy. So as they say in France…read on or fuck off.*
So Tuesday’s operation was Jethros, a place we are not unfamiliar with. We have liked this place since it opened because sometimes when you go there you can pretend like you are still in college. They also have a bike rack, which made the bike riding journalistic demographic feel welcome.
We received several reader recommendations to attend the wing consumption gala that occurs every Tuesday at Jethros and when we walked in we found that in addition to the satisfaction of random customers, they also have been given a prestigious runner-up accolade.
Because we currently have no accolades to award (our at home desktop printer is broken) we consider any recognition to be prestigious, but seriously Cityview could you not even splurge for award worthy looking stationary…
Anyways, we were simply overwhelmed with the amount of people that were just straight up wing munching. It was sort of a thing of beauty. People were having so much fun sucking on saucy chicken bones it was just a remarkable and fantastic sight. They are getting extra consideration for this in the awarding of the flies. Wings are two for one on Tuesdays, so if you want to be in the company of other deal seeking, carnivorous, Des Moinesians Tuesdays at Jethros is your place.
So we sit down and a table of guys next to us has just been presented with an enormous platter of wings. We are wary of the diversity of wing sauce choices and these gentlemen seem to be recurring/knowledgeable customers and one guy looks like Roseanne Barr. I tell S/TP to ask them what flavors they have ordered and if they have any recommendations for us infantile Jethro’s wing munchers.
She obliges, but they seem to be ignoring us, and then one guy puts up his finger to his lips in like the “be quiet” position and we are super baffled. Then we realize they are quite literally saying a prayer and blessing their wings. This is both hilarious and reverent and takes wing appreciation to a whole new level. S/TP bows her head and folds her hands in some crazy knee jerk reaction to the whole situation. Hilarity ensues for the entirety of the minute plus wing blessing. Then they tell us they got hot barbecue. We almost need to request a seat rearrangement because we cannot keep it together.
So we decide to order 20 wings in 4 different flavors.
1. Obviously, traditional buffalo
2. In honor of the right wing...ha. religious fanatics we get the hot barbecue
3. To be sort of forward thinking out of the box liberals we get Parmesan Garlic
4. At the recommendation of our server we get the spiced rub, which any of Jethros signature sauces can be applied to.
The wings are super meaty and have a great signature smoked meat taste complete with crispy/black smoked chicken skin, which is really a nice treat. The ratio of wings to drums is on point.
Our favorite of the sauces is the hot barbecue, but we decide that this is sort of more like eating barbecue chicken than wings.
The traditional buffalo are sort of under sauced for a devotee of saucy mediums and there is just not quite enough heat.
The Parmesan garlic turns out to be simply too liberal of an application to be really considered wings, plus the sauce was a weird and unappealing color and consistency too reminiscent of a certain Friday night/Saturday Morning gone bad for our personal liking. And to think I am single...
Finally, the rub was the total standout in terms of deliciousiocity. Of the bunch this is the wing that will be receiving our broke ass accolade if we ever get our printer fixed…
We were very curious as to the process of how these wings were made and our very friendly (yet obviously weirded out by our analytical wing discussion/photo essay) waitress tells us that they are smoked for 2 hours in the morning, then chilled all day, then deep fried and sauced with their sauce mates (this explains the disparity in sauce application between the different flavors). Ha Sauce mates. You can also drink beer out of a jar like Huckleberry Finn used to probably do.
And that is cool.
So taking into consideration all of the above they are getting 7 Flies
As for the bike ride…
After all the positive feedback regarding my no hands move a few weeks ago S/TP and I decided we should sort of expand the repertoire of Evil Knievelness to keep readers on edge (a literary device). I am the obvious candidate for this undertaking because S/TP major sucks at bike riding and is seriously lucky we have made it this far without severe bodily harm. So, for all of you, I created a new move. It is called the speeding bullet
As you can see you sort of just go into Lance Armstrong position on really any steep hill and speed down. That is the move.
We also saw a lady laying in her front yard measuring blades of grass with a ruler and a woman who was blowing a leaf blower at a fairly small child while he was dancing and some other lunatic was videotaping the whole thing on an Iphone. Those were the main highlights of the ride. People can seriously be so disturbing.
But we still had a bitchin time…
*I actually never heard anyone say anything like that when I was in France
See you all next week.
