Oh My Sweet Bobo!
Before I launch into this culinary love letter, let me just say that I am not an OKC native. Norman is a very insular (albeit nice enough) town, but I have just begun to uncover the secrets of Oklahoma City in the last year or so. Friday, I think I made my best discovery yet.
I am talking about the death-in-a-box, abandon all hope ye who eat here chicken sold by the mysterious Bobo. It is perhaps the only thing I can thank Johnny's pretentious neighbor for - or should I thank him? Because I am now and forever a woman unfulfilled, perpetually hungry until I eat that fried crap again!
For those of you who don't know what it is (and I'm sure since you are city folk you are laughing, "She never had Bobo's?!"): it's chicken wings, roasted, then deep fried, then smothered in pseudo honey (corn syrup). It looks like the corpses of children, it feels like death, but it tastes so...effing...good!
I know it's run by some guy who sets up along 23rd somewhere at sometime. Well this Saturday, I'm coming for him. Lawson, you're coming with me!
I am talking about the death-in-a-box, abandon all hope ye who eat here chicken sold by the mysterious Bobo. It is perhaps the only thing I can thank Johnny's pretentious neighbor for - or should I thank him? Because I am now and forever a woman unfulfilled, perpetually hungry until I eat that fried crap again!
For those of you who don't know what it is (and I'm sure since you are city folk you are laughing, "She never had Bobo's?!"): it's chicken wings, roasted, then deep fried, then smothered in pseudo honey (corn syrup). It looks like the corpses of children, it feels like death, but it tastes so...effing...good!
I know it's run by some guy who sets up along 23rd somewhere at sometime. Well this Saturday, I'm coming for him. Lawson, you're coming with me!