Some people may think it's a bit much to drive 90 miles just to eat some wings. My sister and I are not those people, so yesterday we headed out from her house north of Baltimore to Philadelphia to visit Moriarity's Tavern, home of our favorite wings.
We discovered Moriarity's about 20 years ago when we were hitting up some of the historical sights with my nephew, Michael. The three of us were walking down Walnut Street on our way to an evening walking tour around Constitution Hall. We decided to check out an Irish tavern and were delighted to find some great food. We started with wings. Each of us took a bite at the same time and instantly raised our eyes to each other.
Michael swallowed, "These are amazing."
Michael knows his wings, after all, his dad had been cooking them up in an air fryer for years at this point. Wings were a staple during our beach vacations.
The wings were amazing. We talked about the crispiness and the perfect amount of sauce. As cool as that nighttime walking tour was, the wings were the highlight of the trip.
As great as they were, they were eventually forgotten. Actually, it wasn't the wings that were forgotten- it was the name of the restaurant.
Ten years later, I was back in Philly with a college friend. We were in town to go to her niece's college lacrosse game at UPenn. We arrived late Friday night around eight. The first thing we wanted to do was to find some food. In a lucky twist of fate, the hotel concierge directed us to an Irish Pub a few blocks away.
Walking in, I recognized everything about the place immediately. My friend didn't quite understand my excitement, but my sister did when I sent her a picture.
It's the wing place!
I made sure to grab a complimentary magnet on my way out. I was never going to forget the name again.
