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They ask with a smile. There are no refunds.
These wings immediately encase your skull in flop sweat on the outside and trigger a Gatling gun of endorphin firings on the inside.
The secret ingredient in this kitchen is chili powder ground from habanero peppers, nasty little boogers variously estimated at 30 to 50 times the heat of a mere jalapeo. They ladle the habanero powder into the sauce with a shovel for the "Suicide" wings.
There is nothing spicier anywhere in the Grand Canyon State.
Plus, we can order selections from Michael's menu, like his always amusing amusé of Michael's "Silver Spoon" hors d'oeuvres, shrimp-stuffed rigatoni in Chardonnay tomato thyme sauce, seared foie gras on Sauvignon poached pear duck confit salad, or soy-glazed calamari on gingered crab risotto.
Hmm. Maybe we'll just table those dinner plans and stay right where we are in the bar.
Mr./Mrs. Moore's front porch and side yard are strewn with tables and benches where the laid-back and liquored-up can lounge. The crowd encompasses all kinds, from hard-drinking hippies to hot NFL has-beens, but the overall vibe is one of ease and unpretentiousness.