As you may or may not know, buffalo wings originated in Buffalo, New York. And living right down the road from Buffalo, I’m now qualified to know a few things about the area. One of those things is that there is no such thing as Buffalo wings up here. Here they’re just called chicken wings because otherwise it would be redundant. You know, like calling French fries just fries in France. And one place famous for chicken wings is Bar Bill Tavern in East Aurora.
Sweet, sweet Western New York, my home for the summer. Where weck is a thing and you better not say you’re in Upstate New York because they might kill you. They also have some sort of professional football team. It’s really a beautiful thing and I plan to eat as much of it as I can while here. Fortunately some friends have told me all the best places to go and I decided to begin with that thing called weck. To do so, I found my way to Anderson’s in Depew. Despite the obvious nod to soft serve in their sign, they also have weck.
In the year 1915, World War I was in full swing, women still couldn’t vote in our fine country and Thyphoid Mary was doing her thing. Oh and Station Street opened in Pittsburgh. But considering the place is run by local celeb chef Kevin Sousa, it’s safe to assume the place has changed. In fact, it even seems to have changed recently, adding street food like tacos and bibimbap (both of which probably didn’t exist in the Pittsburgh lexicon in 1915) to its list already extensive list of hot dogs.
Back in LA, you could hardly throw a stone without hitting a food truck. In Pittsburgh, though, things are a little different. Supposedly the laws are pretty prohibitive, but a couple have still made their way to the streets. One of which is the creatively named PGH Taco Truck and I got the opportunity to try it out when Carnegie Mellon offered its free tacos to grad students like me.
Sometimes all you need is a quick and easy, uncomplicated meal in your neighborhood. Something good and American. And when you’re about to see the movie Chef, it has to be filling as well. Enter: Murray Avenue Grill in Squirrel Hill. The menu isn’t too big, but everything on it looks good and everyone in the place looks like they have lived in the neighborhood for the last 50 years. I wasn’t planning on doing the whole burger thing, but I couldn’t resist when I saw the options.
Breakfast is definitely a meal for bowls. Cereal, yogurt and oatmeal all call for bowls or bowl-like conduits. The Breakfast Club in Commerce, Michigan, though, is breaking that mold just like its namesake movie broke the mold of teen movies in the ’80s. You see, they offer savory breakfast bowls and I just couldn’t wait to get one for myself.
After quite the kayak journey down the Huron River, I found myself in Milford, Michigan seeking food. Fortunately, I was with family that brought me to Coratti’s on Main. Having had Italian for dinner the night before, I was not the most excited, but Coratti’s was definitely different from what I had just eaten. Instead of a ristorante, it was more of a cafe, with lighter fare waiting to make its way into my stomach.
You can get Italian food anywhere, so on the many occasions that I have returned to my homeland of Michigan since moving away one fateful day in 2007, I have not felt a drive to get to Antonio’s in Farmington Hills. After making a trip back there, I now realize this has been a mistake. After all, Antonio’s was the site of my college graduation lunch. Upon arrival, I could almost taste their amazing bread, which was good because it came out quickly and I devoured it like a fiend.
The quest for great meat often leads to BBQ, and my visits to a couple of Pittsburgh’s cue joints have been fruitful, if not overwhelmingly amazing. Then I heard about Wilson’s Bar B-Q up on the North Side amongst the Mexican War Streets. The founder hails from the South and the place has been smoking meat for more than 50 years. Considering Pittsburgh’s past, that means a lot. The place is minimalist to the max, with just a couple of plastic tables and chairs with a chimney smoker in the back hiding The menu is scrawled on a chalkboard and lists only four options. Three are ribs of varying size and the other is chicken.
Just as with the band MGMT, I am never quite sure whether to pronounce BRGR as “B-R-G-R” or as “Burger.” Such is the conundrum of a word without vowels, but in truth pronunciation matters little in such a situation compared to how good the burgers are. To many people, there is a debate as to the merits of BRGR versus Burgatory. Having truly, madly and deeply enjoyed Burgatory, BRGR certainly had its work cut out for it.