Moonlight Din-dins

Ok, I wasn’t feeling too well yesterday. It was very hot, I hadn’t slept much, and I had an asthma attack in Denver. So I slouched back to the hotel to write a post and then go to sleep. Except despite the copious amounts of sugar and coffee I had poured down my gullet, I was hungry. Since I am in the middle of nowhereville here, there was only two options open to me – the hotel shop for a grossly overpriced mini-tub of Pringles (seriously? Who wants a minitub? Give me the full Pringle or nothing) or the Moonlight Diner across the road. 

Since I refuse to even entertain buying an over-priced and unsatisfactorily sized tub of Pringles – even before I realised they only had sour cream and chives, the WORST Pringle flavour – off I went to the diner. Sulking all the way because I hadn’t been there before and there was probably nothing gluten-free on the menu, and –

Oh. My. God.

Ok, there was a lot of stuff on the menu. The Moonlight Diner does a great all-day breakfast, corned beef hash that Trip Advisor has good things to say about – but I did not care about any of that. What did my slightly green, very over-caffeinated self home in on? Hot Wings. Gluten-Free – the lovely server was happy to confirm – hot wings. 

 

Gluten free hot wings at the Moonlight Diner

 
Are they the best thing to put into an iffy tummy? Probably not. Did I order ten of the little buggers anyhow? You know I did. 

This is when I discovered three things.

1) The Moonlight Diner does a damn good hot wing. It was crispy outside, moist inside, drenched with sauce… I refused the bleu cheese dressing, because gross, and I discovered that celery is gross (it is fibrous and tastes wet and green, like swamp water). The Hot Wings, however, were delicious and I gorbed them in me along with the carrot stick batons (because carrots never taste better than when doused in hot sauce).

2) You might not think it to look at my vague-eyed selfies (I don’t even night drink, never mind day drink and selfie, but I always look three sheets to the wind in selfies) but my eyes are bigger than my belly. I ordered ten, but could only manage half of those before reluctantly giving up and having them boxed. Partially that is because the chicken wings were huuuuuuuge, but it was also because…

3) I can no longer ‘hot’ like I did when I was young and cast iron of stomach. I played it safe because of my aforementioned ick and ordered half medium heat wings and half teriyaki. Both were delicious, but the medium heat nearly laid me out. I lost lip-feeling, my nose was running, my eyes were itching, and I hit that sweaty stage where I just had to give up. The nuclear heat wings would have probably killed me on the spot.

Although it might have been worth it.

The remnants

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