I caught up with Graham crossing the street outside of Davisville station. We were planning to meet Kim, Breese, and Jane (a friend visiting from Australia) for beer and wings. Apparently they don’t have bar wings in Australia. Go figure.

They weren’t there yet, so we grabbed a table on the sunny patio. The beer choices were pretty dire — Molson and Labatt stuff, Carlsberg, and Guinness. We ordered a jug of Rickard’s (Canadian with food colouring, as they say). We would have gotten Guinnii, but agreed that it wouldn’t really go well with the wings. Graham speculated that this may be why wings never caught on in Ireland. Whether this is related to their lack of popularity in Australia, I don’t know.

Soon the others arrived and we ordered various combinations of wings, ribs, and fries (plus a few extra packages of that dill sauce). I was about a third of the way down my glass of beer when I noticed lipstick on the other side of the rim. I realize that for some reason, commercial dishwashers have yet to be able to fully vanquish the lipstick enemy, but I would hope that whoever’s loading it in there would give it a once-over. Anyway, the clean glass that the waitress brought back to me was, to her enduring credit, full.

The wings themselves were quite good — large, with moist, tender meat and a deep salty taste that was different, but not unpleasant. The ribs were also quite nice and tender. The spicyness of the wings was a bit unpredictable, however; of the first two plates we got, both ordered medium, one had a good medium hotness and the other was quite mild. Still hungry, we ordered a third plate (again medium), which was about twice as spicy as the medium plate of the last round. Not that I cared, really; just found it curious.

Breese broke our all-grease streak by ordering a salad on this second round. Tsk.