I worked at a little hole in the wall/roach farm/ISS nightmare/underage-beer-provider/ chicken wing and beer joint located on the Strip in the early 90’s named Spicy’s. I worked both in the front and the back of the house at various times and witnessed some kitchen nightmares that would make Gordon Ramsey pee the bed.
As a caveat let me say this: the chicken wings , steak and cheese sammiches, and oriental bbq steak sammiches were ab=so=fucking=lutely deeeeelicious. Most of the recipes came from the original(?) owner, who was Asian. Not sure what part of Asia, but I really only met him once or twice as he rode off to California in his red Corvette( for realsies). The chicken wing sauce was very simple . yet unmatched in all my wing eating travels. The steak and cheeses were simple but fresh cut beef only because it was cheaper to pay someone almost nothing to cut it up than to buy it pre-made. The sauce for the oriental BBQ sammich was a sticky sweet concoction full of ginger and absurd amounts of garlic. However…..
BULLET POINTS OF INSANITY FROM SPICY’S
- We used to buy whole chicken wings and cut them by hand into the little drummies and 2nd joints. We did this by removing the safety guard from the meat slicer and cutting the severing the wings joints upon the spinning blade of doom. It was hugely effective but terrifying.
- I saw the owner “allegedly” thaw a case of frozen chicken wings by running them thru the Hobart with the sopa hoses disconnected.
- Once, to save a buck or two, the owner tried using solid shortening in the fryers. While cleaning it, the shortening overflowed and covered the floor in a congealed mass of discount , off brand crisco.
- Roaches. Napkin Holders. Use your imagination. Then double that.
- Gaggles of 17 year olds drunk on 24 ounce can’s of Foster’s, some of Murvill’s best and brightest at the time
- We once sold 1600 pounds of chicken wings in a single day. This is part of why I really don’t like UT football games. Every Saturday home game is an exercise in torture if you work on the Strip
- Tables of Vol’s linemen on all-you-can-eat wing nights could consume upwards of 50 poounds of wings per table. The most I saw ever was a skinny dude who ate almost 130 wings.
- The owner of the building would sell parking spaces on gamedays, pack the cars in like sardines, and then leave. Noone could get out until the “key” cars were moved. Once mine was a “key” car and it was moved by a gang of about 8 guys into the middle of the street.
- Whiskey. Knives. Hot grease. What could go wrong?
Anywho, here are some posters of sheer awesomeness
I remember when I was in 5th grade we moved from Alcoa out to the county area known as Binfield. I was put into Binfield Elementary and immediately started getting into trouble, mostly for being too smart. The most memorable was when we were starting simple division, FOR THE FIRST TIME<that’s right, “we” were just starting to learn division at the end of the 5th grade year. At Alcoa we had been learning this, oh I don’t know, the WHOLE DAMN TIME we were in school, so I had a wee bit of a head start/ Let me say this, I am not making fun of anyone who went to county schools, but more so the schools themselves.
Anywho, the question posed to the class was “what is 9 divided by 3?” Well I answered it immediately and was quickly admonished and ushered out of the classroom, aka a trailer, at which point I was whooped with a paddle. Ahhhh, the good old days when you could hit kids with a large stick! The same teacher also paddled everyone in the class for being too loud at lunch one day. Every single kid, even the quiet ones. You know, spare the rod, spoil the child kind of thing. The same teacher also sent home a pamphlet warning us of the impending Rapture. My rather liberal parents didn’t care too much for that, and I thought it was laughable at best.
The only thing they could do after that was to make me sit in with the 8th graders during class so I didn’t get too bored.
Hey look posters!
Ok, I know the song is actually Photograph, singular not plural with the s. Deal with it. That’s how I roll.
Anyway, I got a new phone that does coooool things like take pictures and keep me organized and let’s me play scrabble while driving down I-40 at 85 miles per hour. So look with your eyeholes and leave comments with your fleshy letter poking hand sticks
I have this new panini grill thingy I got from, shudder to say it , Wally World, and i have to say it totally kicks ass. It has flat or grooved platens which are dishwasher safe. That’s right, platens. Look it up. I am a proficient Scrabble player so I already have, so HA! Anyway, this little sucker has a floating hing and can open up flat to form a griddle. It’s like a classy George Foreman grill but without bad-assed infomercials and its not angled to reduce the fat of my 20% fat hamburger that i bought because it had more fat than the ground sirloin. And it’s shiny, or at least it was until I got a hold of it. I am rough on gadgets and really most things. I go through shoes like Trump goes through Russian brides or a hot knife goes through butter or like a hot knife going through a Russian bride. You get the picture. I am the ultimate consumer because everything i touch i wind up breaking and have to buy a new one. Ask the Mrsishungry, she’ll tell you. Go on ask her dammit!
Where was I? oh yeah, so i made some wings. clipped the tips and made some broth while the wings cooked on the grill. I left the two sections connected until after cooking them so they’re easier to handle on the grill. You can also skewer them once you’ve straightened them out by popping that “elbow” joint out, and fit two wings per skewer. Looks cool and is much easier to manipulate on an outdoor, honest to god that thing is on fire, kind of grill. I simply seasoned the little suckers in some commercial Butt Rub brand BBQ salt mixture and slapped them on the aforementioned badassed panini grill thingy and let em cook away. Then they got tossed and sauced( YEAH RHYMING WORDS!!!) and i ate them. I was going to share them with the kids, but then I said to myself , i says, “Self, screw em!” so I ate all the delicious hot sauce and honey laden chicken skin bundles o’ joy.