I love Jesus.
ENFP, the "champion idealist." About 99.9% of what I've researched online and read in books about ENFPs are true. So if you want to know more about how I operate, just read about the ENFP. But hey, do get to know me personally. Thanks.
I really love traveling.
I'm fascinated by the undead. Like they say, zombies were people too.
I sometimes think I wouldn't have anything to say if the entertainment industry didn't exist. I'm moderately obsessed. I'll admit it.
I am a woman of passion. I'm easily moved and empathetic.
I do have a fear of many things. Some of these things include: animals, clowns, sinkholes, and roller coasters. I also have a slight case of paranoia. I'm ready to be helped.
Food is both a passion and a vice. My sensitive taste buds lead me to love the edible things in life, but it also has fueled a sort of need for instant gratification of sudden cravings. And yes, I absolutely adore cooking.
I like to be creative in everything I do.
And lastly, I strive to see the image of God in all people.
My buddy Kylene and I flirt with gluttony often. We decided to spend a Saturday afternoon doing a mini food crawl of Downtown Madison’s State Street area. We hit up the following places:
We hoped to end at Mad City Frites, but unexpectedly came across HopCat’s “crack fries”–Food Network voted these bad boys into their “Top Ten French Fries in 2015” list. How could we resist? And they were simple and delicious. Next time frites. Next time. Follow our culinary adventure here:
We got the full order of potato and beef mix with “the works”–butter, curry, cilantro, sriracha, and sour cream.
It was a delicious take on pel’meni. Perfect for this season. Full of flavor.
Getting boba tea in Madison is a challenge, so we welcomed KungFu tea with open arms. Hot coffee milk tea with boba.
Ky quite enjoyed her bubble tea.
At the wiener shop. The plant was cute.
This is their ode to the Vancouver-style Japadog. Asian slaw, mayo, avocado. It was a creamy and tart offering over the savory dog. I loved it.
This was fun–their ode to a Seattle dog. It was like an upgraded jalapeno popper.
Paused for the crane carrying tarp. More good foods to come to Madison.
Hopcat features 130 beers on tap, and it’s awesome. Ky didn’t quite like her barrel-aged apple beer, but it was fun to try.
I, however, devoured my Oyster IPA from Bent Kettling Co.
I saw her once. It was a moment so brief, yet so powerful.
I was in Bangkok, waiting to cross the street on Pradipat Road. There she was, riding backseat of a motorcycle. One hand was clutched to her dashing male companion with amazing abs (the details are a bit foggy nowadays), the other held none other than: a chicken wing. As the two passed me, she managed to finish that wing in lightning speed and toss the bone on the street. I gasped in amazement. Who was this woman that I wanted to bow down and give all my respect to? Where did such liberation come from? How could I get on HER LEVEL? That Thai woman gave zero f***s that day because she was living the dream–she had a bag of poultry’s best offerings on her lap, a beautiful man to guide her through the city, and the kind of confidence that made me question everything.
On that day, Thai Chicken Wing Woman became one of my greatest heroes. Inspired by Janelle Monae’s “Q.U.E.E.N.,” a new life mantra was birthed through two hashtags:
Today I pay tribute to the chicken’s ulna, humerus, radius, hinge joint, and all the meaty goodness attached. Yes, I’m turning on the overdramatic meter to max.
Chicken wings represent the respect I have for the living things I eat. This Buzzfeed article expressed one of the most disrespectful acts of this world. If you are guilty of this, I implore you to reconsider eating bone-in, traditional wings. You don’t deserve them.
An entire chicken, usually averaging a few pounds, only has two wings. ONLY. TWO. PRECIOUS. WANGZ (Helpful tip: If you find more than one, I don’t recommend you eat that chicken). So if you want to just take a bite out of the middle and throw the rest of the very things that gave that chicken any hope of flying, then go for a roasted drumstick or fried boob. Five chickens did not need to die so you could play sick games with that 10 piece wings meal. Don’t you even dare think I want you at 50 cent wing night with me.
Eating a chicken wing takes immense care, time, patience, and actual enjoyment. Embrace the cartilage. Detach some bones. Suck some marrow. When you are done, I want to see your plate hold a pile of bones ready to be an exhibit at the history museum:
God gave us these glorious cuts of meat ready to be deep fried for 8 minutes. Or baked for 45. Or grilled for 30. Or dipped in lava for three seconds. And then finished in a bath of seasonings, rubs, and sauces to create the glorious CHICKEN WING.
I am a woman in her late twenties with ambitions, dreams, and wide feet. I have visions that one day I will ride on the back of a motorcycle, holding onto the abs of a man I’m attracted to with a lovable personality and deep convictions, eating delicious wings, and throwing the bones to all the stray dogs we pass like a rich and charitable princess.
That’s the dream. Until then, I will #EatDemWangz and proudly #ThrowDemBonez sitting on my couch re-watching episodes of 30 Rock.