On A Wing & A Prayer
As if delivered from the heavens, the wingmen of Warsaw have a new house of worship…
Described by The Guardian as “God’s greatest gift to the planet”, the Buffalo wing (so named after the city, not the horned beast), has finally flapped its way to Warsaw. Well, okay, it’s visited here before, but the impact it’s made has barely registered up until now. So wait, what happened? Principally, it’s all been down to the emergence of places treating fried chicken not as a junk food but a slow food – and in this regard, no-one’s done a better job than the boys at Zkurczybyk.
And slow it might prove to be – on occasion, we’ve been subjected to nightmare waiting times in excess of 45-minutes. But here’s the thing, in spite of all that complaints are unheard of. Who’d dare after enjoying the kind of hot wings you thought only existed in a dream. Roll in for beautifully juicy chicken inside a crispy, crunchy coat smothered and slathered in an array of sauces ranging from mango-chilli to classic hot; savagely messy, these are things of near profound, holy beauty.
Not in the mood for wings? No problem. Instead, wrap your jaw around buttery, meaty sandwiches the size of a breeze block, or order up fries whose names say it all: silly fries, bull fries, cheesy fries or smokey.
So unexpectedly crazy ass is the quality, we’ve seen one friend sufficiently moved to write a tearful 900-word eulogy on his Facebook. Yep, this place does funny things to people.
Created, reputedly, by a Polish-American lad who spent time in Pittsburgh, everything about this place feels right for the hour. And food aside, the hip hop / steam punk vibe (corrugated iron sheets, stools with bicycle pedals for foot rests, ammo boxes, and turntables emblazoned with music heroes), jives well with an atmosphere that’s high on banter and bravado. Leaving, it’s in a state of shellshock: “how good,” you ask yourself, “has Warsaw just become.”
ul. Poznańska 7