Wings of Mass Destruction…of My Face.
ByEast Coast Grill is a chill venue in Inman Square to split a cheap pitcher of sangria amongst friends while digging into an assortment of internationally-inspired seafood and some damn good garlic mashed potatoes. However. Do not, however tempted you may be, do not order the Wings of Mass Destruction unless you are aware of the credibility behind the name. Also know that the title was once missing the M.
As an aspiring wing connoisseur, the menu item taunted me as a necessary addition to my wing catalogue. These babies came out grilled and sauceless, besides the dipping sauces. The magic lies with the jerk paste and spices. One bite set my face ablaze and teetered on the brink of intolerable. It was a pain I had ordered and paid for, so there’s not much room for complaints here. But behind all the fireworks there was no flavor. If I’m going to suffer through this special kind of torture, I expect something in return beyond a ramekin of banana-guava sauce. After two wings of hell, I gave up and dipped my lips in milk to appease the burn. Actually, this took a few long soak sessions. And a word of advice to those up to the challenge: wash your hands immediately afterwards. A half hour later I imprudently scratched the corner of my eye and suffered the obvious consequences. I spent the next ten minutes dunking my face into a saucer of milk with open eyes.
The Wings of Mass Destruction are just a mild taste of what the kitchen has to offer. Early on, East Coast Grill developed a reputation for spicy dishes that led to taunts from lead-tongued diners looking to sweat more at the table. With each new spicy dish the culinary team invented came further provocation leading to a more fiery dish. Ultimately, the battle escalated into the creation of special events dubbed “Hell Night” in which dinner menus are concocted with as if the devil himself was dining. Rumor has it that on these nights, a glass of milk costs $30. Take a gander at the latest concoctions: http://eastcoastgrill.net/menus/hellmenu.htm. I haven’t built up the courage, or found a big enough milk flask, to even consider this. I leave it to the bold.
