Wishbone – Screamin’ Spices and Screamin’ Kids

Wishbone

3300 N. Lincoln Avenue

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Dave needs your help, comrades.

We got this lovely little “Southern Reconstruction” home cookin’ place on North Lincoln. If you’re a guy and you’re straight, and you try their Hoppin’ John side dish, you’ll suddenly decide you have a thing for guys – but only the ones named John who can hop. The corn muffins are top-shelf in sweetness and texture. In short, I dare you to find more authentic fare north of the Mason-Dixon. It’s just a tad pricey, but worth every penny.

But here lies the problem: it’s basically the Chuck E. Cheese’s of jambalaya joints. No matter what day you come in, there’s always going to be few tables of screaming toddlers trying to have their first sit-down restaurant experience. You’d think with the epic Jolly-Rancheresque Pomegranate martini I had that this place is universal in its age range. But I only found a couple of people at their booths that were just on simple dates, the rest (to be fair, myself included) were with their parents. The wine list was specifically labeled “ADULT DRINKS.”

“But mooooom, wai can’t I haff an adolt dwinkie?” That was painful to write. You get the idea.

It’s all a matter of taste, really. If you’re not like me and you can stand seeing families get a little dysfunctional and awkward, then by all means stuff yourself at this rainbow-chicken-decorated wonderland. You’d think I would be exaggerating about the rainbow chickens, but literally the chickens are everywhere. That’s not a bad thing, unless you have a deep-seated hatred for all things poultry. In which case I probably think you’re a douchebag.

But if you’re an adult and not a big fan of hectic yuppie family hi-jinks, then consider this a call to action. Go there anyway. We need a less annoying crowd. We don’t need good food refused to us (that is, without any staff actually refusing it to us – the service is very friendly – I’m talking about the other customers) just because we’re in the minority! Sit down, pull out some earplugs, and eat that goddamn jambalaya like you earned it by not dying for long enough to be an ADULT!

I don’t hate kids, don’t get me wrong, all I’m asking is for a little more diversity. So to any kids who are reading this, you know your hungry bastard uncle Dave loves you just the way you are. Also, see that B-word I used? Try it a few times with your friends. It’s fun.

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