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Indianapolis Star
01-08-2025
- Entertainment
- Indianapolis Star
Will IndyStar have a Spice Lord on staff?
IndyStar's Bradley Hohulin takes on Big Lug Canteen's State Fair week Spice Lord Challenge. Will he be able to tackle the 12 wings and hold out on milk or water for 5 minutes following the last wing?
Indianapolis Star
01-08-2025
- Entertainment
- Indianapolis Star
INdulge: These ridiculously hot wings are (sort of) the best thing I ate in Indy this week
While I generally consider myself a logical person, I am occasionally consumed by a particularly stupid endeavor — one that not always, but usually, involves a free T-shirt. Summoned once again by that calling, I dug in for: For reasons we'll soon unpack, it pains me to report that for this week's INdulge column I completed Big Lug Canteen's Spice Lord Challenge in Nora. Previously in INdulge: It's tomato season. This summer salad is the best thing I ate in Indy this week The Spice Lord Challenge entails consuming 12 hefty chicken wings doused in Big Lug's Carolina Reaper sauce in 10 minutes. No liquids, no other food, just poultry and pain. The wings ($17) are part of Big Lug's State Fair-themed menu, which is available through Aug. 6. and features such delicacies as corn dog poutine and the three-meat Triple Bypass burger. But only the Spice Lord Challenge presents the allure of a screen-printed white T-shirt that reads 'Spice Lord of Big Lug' in black capital letters. Though confidence has never been my forte, when it comes to eating I possess a frankly ludicrous level of self-belief. Thus, I knew the Spice Lord Challenge would go one of two ways: hurt myself and get a T-shirt or hurt myself and suffer a minor identity crisis. My wing-scarfing strategy was to plow through as many as possible before the agony set in, then survive the remainder without committing the day-ruining error of touching my eyes. By wing No. 5, sweat, snot and tears flooded the pale-turned-crimson face of a man whose ancestors never meant for him to eat anything spicier than ground black pepper. Nonetheless, by the five-minute mark I had already downed eight wings. At the encouragement of the Big Lug employee kindly timing me, I steadily chewed through the remaining four as my body continued its small nuclear meltdown. Speed-eating stomach-punishing volumes of food is nothing new for humanity. Medieval English poet John Taylor's 1630 work 'The Great Eater of Kent' tells the likely exaggerated account of a man named Nicholas Wood who consumed vast amounts of food at festivals or on dares, once eating stuffing himself into an eight-hour food coma. The modern restaurant eating challenge is widely credited to St. Louis fast-food joint Crown Candy Kitchen, who since 1913 has tempted diners to drink five 24-ounce milkshakes or malts in less than 30 minutes in exchange for a full refund, their photo on the wall and, yes, a free shirt. A trip through Indiana newspaper archives reveals Hoosiers (mostly men, if you can believe it) have been wolfing down inadvisable quantities of food for decades. A 1987 report from the Porter County Vidette-Messenger chronicled a local burger-eating contest in which competitor Mike Gromer edged out 290-pounder 'Big Sam' Johnson with five burgers in 30 minutes. Said Gromer of his experience: 'Basically, people like to see people in misery.' Previously in INdulge: This beautiful, messy hot dog is the best thing I ate in Indy this week I finished gnawing the bone of my twelfth and final wing with a little less than a minute on the clock, hands slightly shaking. One can only complete Big Lug's gauntlet by waiting another five minutes without liquids, during which I took emotional stock of what I had accomplished and found little sense of pride. I conquered the Spice Lord Challenge, but it was a challenge in the way that willingly stepping on an upturned garden rake is a challenge, a creative form of masochism that plays well on video. Whatever wave of endorphins the victory could have triggered quickly crashed against jagged rocks of personal shame — ashamed for the mess I'd made, ashamed for getting so nervous beforehand, ashamed for making a Big Lug employee stand outside on one of the hottest days of the year to essentially watch me leak various fluids from my face. 'How did you feel roughly 18 to 24 hours after the challenge?' you may wonder. Bad. Obviously, it was bad. No need to dwell on it. The tragedy of the Spice Lord Challenge is that I think the wings would taste pretty good as a normal meal. They're plenty hot, too spicy for some folks to enjoy, but also slightly fruity, and the chicken has nicely crisped skin. For amateur eaters like Porter County burger champ Mike Gromer and myself, perhaps the true test is ignoring the siren call of mass meat consumption in the first place. Turns out, there is no glory in being the Spice Lord, at least not for me. I do really like the shirt though. What: Carolina Reaper chicken wings, aka the Spice Lord Challenge, $17 Where: Big Lug Canteen, 1453 E. 86th St., (317) 672-3503, In case that's not your thing: For a less face-melting dining experience, Big Lug offers assorted gastropub fare taken up a notch with burgers and sandwiches ($12 to $16), eclectic pizzas (around $15) and a specialties menu heavy on ritzed-up appetizers like steak poutine ($14), southwest egg rolls ($13) and spicy garlic fried cauliflower ($13). The restaurant is open to all ages, though guests 21 and older can drink from Big Lug's robust draft list.
