The Taste Bud: Hottest Wings I Ever Ate (A True Story of Pain)

Yeah, they’re as hot — and delicious — as they look. Photos by Kevin Gibson

When I started eating the wings, I of course acknowledged that they were the hottest on the menu at Legend Larry’s. Hey, I love heat, especially if it’s packed with pepper flavor. But I couldn’t have predicted what was about to unfold.

Sitting in the Green Bay location of the four-store mini-chain, I started munching on the crisp, plump wings (the wings at Larry’s are absolute perfection) with the restaurant’s signature DOA sauce, the top of the charts in terms of heat. But this wasn’t a novelty hot wing, intended to embarrass – the sauce, with peppers unknown (I think I tasted Ghost, but I can’t be sure), comes with a slow burn and is also quite delicious. I ate voraciously.

I also had ordered a half dozen wings with the Scary Larry sauce, second on the heat scale at Legend Larry’s. Also highly delicious, that sauce brings a floral profile, which reminds me of a super-hot such as a 7 Pot Pepper or possibly a Butch T Scorpion.

I finished the fifth DOA wing, my mouth beginning to tingle, my throat starting to host a growing sizzle, but the flavors – and my hunger – kept me moving forward. I tore through four Scary Larry wings, so as to compare the two and determine my favorite. This way, I’d know which sauce to buy a bottle of when the meal was over. (You can buy the sauces online!)

After eating those four, Scary Larry was the clear winner, so I shifted back and ate the final DOA wing. By this point, my nose was running, eyes watering and I could feel a lingering burn, oddly, in the skin beneath my eyes. The edges of my nostrils also had begun to tingle. Both sets of wings, served inconspicuously in a black plastic basket with parchment paper, were robustly sauced. The smoldering sauce pooled in the bottom of the basket, begging to be used as dip. As I moved back to the final two Scary Larry wings, my face began to feel unusually flushed, my head felt hot. My mouth and throat flamed. Oddly, my earlobes even tingled. But the chicken was so delicious that I couldn’t — nay, wouldn’t — stop to come up for air.

I dug into the penultimate wing, and that’s when I realized my lower lip was slowly going numb. First it was on the right side. By the time I began tearing into that final wing, my entire face tingled/burned, and my lower lip was completely devoid of feeling. It was like I’d gone to the dentist and was experiencing the lingering local anesthetic, probably drooling and spitting without even realizing it. I finished most of the final wing, but by this point I realized I wasn’t quite going to survive the last two or three bites. I was full, I was flushed and, well, I couldn’t feel my lip. “Is this how it ends?” I thought. At that point, I experienced a full-body shiver. Yeah, I was probably going into shock. And the hologram zebra next to me at the bar wouldn’t stop talking in Latin about Renaissance festivals. (Wait, I may have imagined that last part.)

My travel buddy, Butch, asked if I was OK, and to be honest, I actually was — but I’d never experienced anything quite like that while eating spicy food. I eat hot peppers and super-hot sauces regularly (check out my YouTube channel for evidence) and have for decades, but this reaction was a first. Soon, my lower lip felt as if it had swelled to the size of a can of biscuits, and was waiting to burst similarly. The endorphin rush that had slowly built had turned into a full-blown, if temporary, buzz, like a mild drug. I was, for a few minutes, high as a kite. (Is this stuff legal?)

Still, the skin around my mouth burned. My upper lip didn’t go numb, but I almost wished it had. My mouth and throat continued tingling for a good 20 or 30 minutes, and it took even longer to regain feeling in the lower lip. I was officially the victim of hot wing abuse, and like any self-respecting masochist, I had rather enjoyed it.

Back at the hotel room later that night, lights out, I woke up around 3 a.m. desperately wanting a drink of water. I’d taken an antacid before bed, but my chest nevertheless burned with reflux, to no surprise of my own. I walked into the bathroom, turned on the light, looked in the mirror … and my lower lip was caked in dried, dark red blood. Apparently, the acidity in the searing pepper sauces had dried and cracked my lip as I slept. The blood had pooled and dried in the right corner of my mouth and was partially caked in my beard. I looked absolutely ridiculous, like an extra in the lowest-budget zombie movie ever made.

I started laughing, because there was no other reaction to something so ridiculous. Yes, Legend Larry’s hot wings literally bloodied my lip, as if I’d taken them on in a bar fight and lost. I shook my head, washed my face, gulped some water and went back to bed. In the morning, I noticed the blood had left a few small stains in my top sheet. Boy, I bet the hotel housekeeping staff never saw that one coming.

One could say the same for me when I went to the bathroom later that day. Talk about abuse.