mendax.org

It’s with much dismay that I find myself reporting an injustice brought upon us by New Yorker’s Buffalo Wings, not because it is the most convenient place for me find Buffalo wings in San Francisco, but because it is one of the only places in San Francisco one can find Buffalo wings at all.

Having spent time in western New York and tasted true Buffalo wings, ordering chicken wings on the west coast becomes a frightening affair. Too many places serve wings with “Asian fusion” flavors, or misunderstand how to make wings hot and still be flavorful. Faults of wing recipes aside, the other problem east-coast transplants face is the fact that west-coasters don’t understand wings, much like east-coasters don’t understand avocados. Buffalo wings are not the domain of appetizers alone; Buffalo wings are full-on meals, with the occasional side order of fries.

In any case, New Yorker’s Buffalo Wings in San Francisco’s Pacific Heights district is a little east-coast haven in the heart of an unusually preppy San Francisco neighborhood, and though the quality of their wings have not always been superb, they’ve been reasonably consistent. By “reasonably consistent,” I mean to say that one out of five visits may results in wings being a bit overcooked and dry, but other than that, eat-in, take-out, and delivery have been relatively painless experiences, with the largest concern being a poor understanding of the English language by the predominantly Asian staff.

This brings me to the most recent experience I’ve had with the aforementioned establishment, which involved a delivery order to a residence myself and a group of friends were hanging out at. The brunt of the order, of course, involved Buffalo wings, but one of us decided to order some chicken tenders as well, which is usual par for a group of people ordering wings. Though the delivery person generally has no problems finding the residence we were at, it was a poor sign that on this particular day, he had to call and verify where to bring the wings, as though heralding future problems.

When the order finally arrived, all were gleeful (in part because beer was involved in the festivities). That is, gleeful until we realized that the chicken tenders we ordered looked a little off. One of the braver partygoers decided to try one, to verify that our order was, in fact, incorrect. Though at the time, we were still unsure what this strange misorder entailed, we decided simply to shrug it off. Hey, mistakes happen, and we weren’t about to condemn our favorite wing-selling establishment because of a little hectic-kitchen mix-up.

Fast-forward 30 to 45 minutes, when we receive a phone call from the restaurant. They asked us if our order had a mistake, which seemed like a nice gesture. I say “seemed” because though they called to confirm that a mistake was made (it turns out they delivered fried oysters instead of chicken tenders), they told us we had to pay for a new order of chicken tenders if we wanted to correct theirmistake. Effectively, they demanded we pay twice for one order of chicken tenders.

This kind of “service” is pathetic. Why bother even calling the customer back if you don’t intend to correct a mistake that you made? End result? I’m looking for a new place to get buffalo wings in San Francisco, even if it’s not in as convenient a location. Coincidentally, I walked by a place in the Mission district not too long ago that looks promising, and somewhat new. Maybe this bodes well for the future of buffalo wings in San Francisco.

Popularity: 2% [?]