I am a big fan of the restaurant Hooters and their fabulous chicken wings.
Long ago, when Hooters first opened in my hometown, I swore up and down that I would never set foot in such a sexist-ly named establishment shamelessly promoting T&A under the loose guise of a restaurant. One day a co-worker challenged my young and narrow mindset to lunch claiming that - regardless of the attire - Hooters was more than tiny tank tops and bright orange hot pants - they had other "assets"....namely screamingly good chicken wings that outweighed anything the waitresses wore (or didn't). I accepted his invitation - not only as a chance to prove that his theory was utterly without merit and that this place really just provided him the opportunity for him to gawk at cleavage - but also (despite my young and naive ways) even back then I knew better than to turn down free lunch.
There are times in my life that I don't mind being wrong. And my initial taste of a Hooters 3-Mile Island chicken wing was one of those times.
My co-worker was correct - my instant love for those chicken wings far outweighed any cares or concerns for what the servers were wearing; the questionable look from friends whenever I suggested henceforth that we go to Hooters for any meal, anytime; and the after effects of what 3-Mile Island chicken wing sauce did to my gastrointestinal system (I never knew I could actually breathe fire). And scoff all you'd like - but I will stand by my wing and swear that there is none better than those found at Hooters.
So how does Hooters make the Fabulous Forty list?
Well, ever since that fateful first day, there has been an item on the menu that I always found amusing, stupid, outrageous and yet completely awesome all at the same time. It was 20-chicken wing dinner that came with a bottle of Dom Perignon champagne all for the mere price of $120-$150 (depending on the year). For about the last 20 years or so, I swore I was going to come into Hooters one day and order the champagne and wings dinner. So finally....I did it. But apparently, tough times have hit all around - because now you no longer get a bottle of Dom with your wings - you instead get...well....not-Dom.
But bubbles are bubbles (at least, in this particular instance) and on the upside...this particular meal no longer costs $150.
So with football on the big screen, a chicken wing in one hand and champagne in the other - does it really get any more glamorous at a Hooters?
One thing to note if you should happen to partake in this particular meal; champagne and chicken wings, although exotic sounding, is not exactly the best food-beverage paring. Something about my burning tongue and those little bubbles from the champagne kinda reminded me of eating Pop Rocks and drinking a soda-pop at the same time....just with the added component of fire mixed in.
So it's another item off the list. And yes - you may think it is ridiculous the things that I aspire to in my life. But when you tell yourself "someday" you're going to do something, no matter how silly it may seem, why should someday have to be a special occasion when a perfectly random Sunday night works just as well. I'm just thankful that I got over my initial fear of orange hot pants and found a restaurant that has served me so well time and time again with their fabulous chicken-wingey goodness that burns just hot enough to take the top layer of skin off your tongue but with beer (or in this case champagne) cold enough to make you able to keep going back for more.
Speaking of servers, ours was absolutely fabulous (Amani on the far right)...
Although I'm starting to wonder if the restaurant isn't letting its standards slip a bit these days....because....well........
Thank goodness I'm just in it for the wings.