Always located in shopping/strip malls, outside seating and paint colors carbon copied from SC to FL (Florida - Beefs home) - so search pointed Kelly green wooden highlights, usually two to three stores down from a chain supermarket - and you're likely to bump into one.
There's no hostess - signage reads "seat yourself at any clean table", the locals consider the menu "very exciting" and I read it by it's pictures, scanning two pages at a time in a childishly circumloqusacious manner. Lunch on the back with desserts the previous page and I'm wondering who orders the Strawberry Margaritas and the Original Ruben?, on St. Patrick's Day perhaps but not before nor after.
Beefs they say used to not serve hard liquor, but you can get any drink you want now - it's the "family friendly" initial concept that kept the booze and booze hounds out, but Beefs loosened up on that issue eventually.
I always picture a buff Irishman being the owner that throws the fellow in the corner out upon his derriere, who moments prior fell asleep with his face slumped down in the peanut bowl because he had too many spirits. But that doesn't happen and they do not have bar peanuts, but I'm always fantasizing and dreaming up scenarios in my head but maintaining conversation - sort of. Just a lot of nods of "yes" and verbal "how interesting"ings.
Boneless wings bother me - they are just weird to me, why not call them something else? Baby Legs or Small Stumps or Mini Pegs? I dunno. But until the day they pry my final wing from my cold dead fingers, I'm always and forever going bone in baby.
These three bite wings are a mixed bag of the jumbo party pack wings and the next size down, my preferred size. I always ask to not be served the big jumbo drummettes, I can't stand them, they're so obnoxious - and they never listen to me, nobody seems to listen to me nor my requests. Not the waitress and not the cooks apparently, always ignore my simple and quite unobtrusive request about the size and they ignore my "extra crispy" request as well and I find this disturbing.
But if I complain, I'll get agitated and then it builds and it's better to not even get me going, I know this those that know me know this - no need for the volcano to erupt over poor order taking and preparing. I guess I get agitated because nobody listens anymore, but not believe me, I'll try not to deceive you, but I've always got so many things to say.
I believe my current record on Wings Wednesday at Beefs is three for five or four for six, thereby having consumed generously from top down on their wing meter that depicts heat levels, it's pictures within the menu. I've steered clear from the top of the thermometer, the reddest color (I'm coming for you soon Mr. Atomic Wing) because I always go with her and although I've already eaten and drank and made merry multiple times in her presence, she's still a classy lady and to go high on the heat index would require many of Beefs big beers, then perhaps feeling a bit tipsy I'll be distracted from what she's saying and look around at all of the big TV screens because I don't have a television at home.
So she'll drop me off and go shopping and pick me up and drive me home - when that day comes, and it's coming soon, she's so agreeable with me and I haven't a clue as to why. read more