Winger’s Grill & Bar

Where: 5221 Tacoma Mall Blvd., Tacoma, 253.471.9464
Hours: 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. Sunday-Thursday, 11 a.m. to Midnight Friday and Saturday
Cuisine: Mostly Southwestern comfort food
Scene: Ultra casual and family friendly
Drinkies: Specialty cocktails and teas, import and domestic beers and wine
Damage: $2.50-$18

ANNOUNCER: Much as a hermit crab takes up residence in an empty shell, a few years back one chain restaurant took the place of another in a building on Tacoma Mall Blvd. The Tony Roma’s is now Winger’s Grill & Bar. A focus on barbeque ribs is replaced by one on hot wings. Winger’s extensive menu is more of a novel than a short story and spans a multitude of food types, evidence of the restaurant’s mission: to be everything to everyone.

JAKE: You ever notice how much stuff is screwed to the walls in chain restaurants? Ugh, visual bombardment. Why did we go choose Winger’s again?

JASON: Because Kip Winger wrote us a personalized invitation to his new venture. Yeah, right. It’s the wings, man, the wings.  From sweet to hot to tangy, five distinct wing sauces cover much of the flavor spectrum. The menu is coded in symbols to aid in ordering.

JAKE: Kip Winger is still alive? Right, the wings. I did like that we could order them boneless, breaded and fried or naked, bone-in, with crispy skin. I want control of how much sauce is on my meat and what it’s dipped in.

JASON: Your last sentence there is highly questionable. Wow. The exterior of Winger’s wings was crisp without being dry, and the meat inside was moist. I guess the wings would have to be great if they come from Winger’s. A+. Pricing was good, too. 16 fat wings for $15.49. Sold. Service was timely; food arrived after a brief wait. 16-ounce beers were served in foot high mugs; all the better to wash down burning wing sauce. Domestic beers are only $1.50 on Thursdays.

JAKE: Yeah, chain restaurants always seem to serve giant portions. My loaded chicken signature specialty entrée was a heaping melty glob of Monterey and cheddar cheeses smothering sweet sesame sautéed onions and mushrooms atop a very tender massive chicken breast. A monstro baked potato crowned by sour cream, bacon, more cheese and chives rode shotgun to sad overly buttered vegetables on a huge plate. Music and flat screens were so loud conversations were almost at a yell. To go box, please.

JASON: What? I can’t hear you! We sat in the bar area; the noise is to be expected. Wuss. My pasta entrée was tasty if unimaginative. Al dente penne, moist chicken and a medium level of Cajun spice. I sopped up heavy Alfredo cream with garlic bread. It was hard to resist the lure of the home-style potpie, but pasta was my siren’s call.

JAKE: On our second trip we shared dishes. Chicken breast, shrimp and steak marinated in that sweet sesame sauce were skewered, grilled and served as Trio Stix. The sauce started growing on me, though double carb death by baked potato and rice was overkill.  Bootleg ribs were mediocre and a bit dry. Winger’s should stick to wings. Cobb, Mediterranean, Caesar, Southwestern, Chinese, Buffalo and more chicken salads were offered. Cha cha cha chicken. Buh buh buh boring. A glass of sugary peach tea was a nice break from the expected sodas, hard A drinks and beers.

JASON: The food gods smiled on me with a mountainous, 5-inch tall frozen mint chocolate chip ice cream Asphalt Pie. I gobbled it up. Brain freeze!

JAKE: You can’t go wrong with crushed Oreos as crust and swirls of caramel. 1200 calories later, I was ready for a food coma.