Yarr! I’d like to introduce one of Me Hometown Besties for today’s blog post. His name is John, but I still affectionately call him Dips after an ill-placed sign in 11th grade gym class. (Yes, that’s still how you’re listed in my phone, Boo.) He writes this incredibly accurate and whip-smart TV blog – Fake TV Critic, and shares my love of food. (And musical theater, but that’s another story.) I’ve been drooling over this post ever since he sent it to me, so I’m gonna need me Dips to take a trip down to Philly and show me the Port Richmond way. Take it away, John!

“Let me preface by saying something that will probably get me publicly flogged: I’m not a wing person. I think they’re generally not worth the mess and the effort, especially those stupid wings where you have to push the meat out from between two bones with your fingers. I always end up feeling disgusting afterward, so I typically stay away from them. Unless they’re from this place. The wings at this Port Richmond bar are everything. I was first introduced to them about five years, and I felt like I was being let in on a secret. From the outside it looks like any dive in Port Richmond (and let’s be real, there’s plenty of them), and the dining room doesn’t really do much to assuage that feeling. But after ordering your wings and seeing bowl after bowl make their way past you from the kitchen, you kind of start to get it. Then when that giant bowl of chicken heaven is placed in front of you, drowning in sauce, overflowing with meat… it’s freaking on. The meat literally falls right off the bone, so there’s not of that caveman-like tendency we have when eating wings to gnash at the bone and rip the flesh off. They’re so juicy and tender, two adjectives I would have never used to describe buffalo wings from anywhere else. The sauce is hot but not hot enough to make your lips go numb, but there’s extra-chunky blue cheese served on the side to cool you down. There’s a science to eating these wings. The drumettes (the ones that look like little chicken legs) are easy enough. But those stupid wings with the two bones I mentioned earlier? There’s no pushing the meat out with your fingers. Just break off the wing tip (don’t eat it, there’s tiny bones in there and they’re sharp… learned that one the hard way) and put the whole wing in your mouth; pull the meat off with your teeth, and you will have two perfectly clean bones left in your hand. Yeah, that’s right, every little bit of meat just slides off the bone. I don’t know how they do that, but it’s like some kind of miracle every time you take a bite. Either that, or it’s the fact that they’re pressure-fried instead of deep fried. I’m a dreamer, so I’m gonna go with ‘miracle.’ ”

Think you know where John found this booty?

Click through to see…