After I went back to Bryan Street Tavern to check out their wings under the new ownership, I started poking around looking for better specimens. My wing friends suggested the Owner's Box, the retina-overload sports bar in the neon explosion of the Omni Hotel. I stopped in recently to check them out and I have to tell you -- my wing friends are onto something.
If you've ever eaten wings with a friend you'll know that most people have a preference for either the wing or the drum. They're technically all wing pieces, but the segment closer to the chicken's shoulder bears an uncanny resemblance to the drumstick from the leg of the bird. I've always been a drum guy, myself. And while I had one friend in college who preferred the wing, I've almost always found myself competing with others for those drums when I'm sharing a basket.
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The wing vs. drum debate is not an issue at The Owner's Box. All wings are drumsticks here -- a move that confirms my assertion that the two-boned wings are inferior and a waste of time. With that debate settled, I can say the wings here are massive and tender with a lightly crisped exterior, and the meat itself is tender and juicy. You get eight for $11, which is pricy, but they have a 16-foot television and someone's got to pay for that.
They also have a frost-covered icy strip that runs the length of the bar. You're supposed to set your beer there instead of on one of those soggy, pressed-paper coasters that wears the last patron's beer session like a stained napkin. It actually works well. That final sip of shitty Miller Lite you swill out of the bottom of your glass (the beer list is not inspired here) is as cold as the first. I'm looking at having one installed in my coffee table.