While it’s not a requirement for making this immensely pleasing sandwich, I would recommend that each and every one of you track down and watch a copy of The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters. It’s a documentary about grown men and their video game records, but it’s also one of the most unique and, weirdly enough, inspiring movies of the last decade.

The centerpiece of this modern classic is Billy Mitchell, a hot sauce entrepreneur and restaurant owner who draws elemental power from America ties, a well-groomed mullet, and the bewildering toadyism of everyone around him.

Magnetic as Billy proves, the hero of the piece is Steve Wiebe, a science teacher and perennial runner-up from the Pacific Northwest. Wiebe is initially shut out of the inner circle of elite arcade gamers and resolves to take arcade gaming’s most hallowed record. Yes, this is a real thing I’m describing. To become one of the best, a player must reach the kill screen – a place where the arcade machine runs out of memory to continue the game. To some people, this is a big deal. To Brian Kuh, the man featured in the next clip and perhaps the Plantoic ideal of a nerd, this is an earth-shattering cataclysm.

I won’t spoil the ending, but I will say that every time you think you’re going to get bored of the characters or the story, something completely ridiculous is right around the corner. It all revolves around Billy Mitchell, and it turns out that I have family down near his Hollywood, Florida base of operations. So after multiple viewings and a DVD purchase, I dragged a table full of people plus a baby to Rickey’s World Famous Restaurant, which is in actuality a bar.

To answer your first question, there’s no Donkey Kong machine. There’s a Ms. Pac Man and a Jurassic Park pinball game, but no nod to Billy Mitchell’s brush with movie supervillainy. No mention on the menu, no King of Kong-branded shirts or koozies. The man is confident basing his name on the hot sauce. And what a hot sauce it is. It’s a tangy, flavorful Lousiana-style sauce that works perfectly with chicken wings. It inspired me to attempt my own assault on the kill screen of flavor.

The Setup

Shredded chicken
- 2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
- 1 medium onion, chopped
- 2 medium carrots, chopped
- 2 stalks celery, chopped
- 1 bay leaf

Buffalo sauce
- 1/2 c Rickey’s hot sauce (or other Louisiana-style vinegar sauce)
- 1/2 c (1 stick) butter
- 1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce

- 1 c Stilton cheese, crumbled
- Sliced celery ribs or celery salt
- King’s Hawaiian sandwich rolls (or whatever bread you deem appropriate for a world record attempt)

You can order Rickey’s sauce here, but the shipping cost is just ridiculous. It’s way more economical to beg a relative in Florida to send you some – it’s pretty cheap and easily available. I’m informed you can get a gallon of it for less than 8 bucks. Hell, if you want a lot of it, it may be more economical to fly Southwest and bring back a suitcase full.

While I do enjoy Rickey’s, it’s fine to make due with Crystal, Tabasco, or MBQ favorite Frank’s Red Hot. Just please don’t tell Billy.

Also, Stilton cheese is from England. That’s my personal slight to Billy Mitchell for making Steve Wiebe cry. For a non-vendetta cheese, a nice strong blue cheese works equally well.

Cooking

1. In a 3 quart pot or saucepan, cover the chicken and vegetables with enough water to completely cover. Bring the water to a boil and reduce heat until it comes down to a simmer.

2. Simmer chicken for about 30 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through to 165 degrees (160 if you’re feeling darling or 180 if you want to make shoes from it). Remove to a cutting board and let cool. We’re done with the chicken water – either reserve it for use in a soup or stew, or toss it.

3. When the chicken cools enough for your girlish hands to touch, pull the chicken into shreds. Alternately, use two kitchen forks and prepare to experience what crippling arthritis must feel like.

4. Melt the butter over medium-low heat with the hot sauce and Worcestershire. This is where I’m going to mention that you can add whatever you’d like to the sauce – honey, lemon juice, more Worcestershire. I usually keep it simple, but there’s any number of possibilities. Hell, just putting in a bit of Worcestershire is a 50 percent increase in ingredients over the original Anchor Bar sauce recipe.

5. Toast your sandwich rolls. Don’t half ass – it’ll turn out much better.

6. When the sauce is smooth and … um … Buffalo-y, check the seasoning. If you’re happy, throw in your shredded chicken and toss to coat.

7. Top your sandwich rolls with the chicken, the Stilton/blue cheese, and the celery. Don’t go overboard with the celery because a) it’ll throw the taste out of whack and b) as much as it rounds out the taste of the sandwich, no one really likes celery on its own merits. For the love of all that’s holy, don’t feel the need to add lettuce just because it’s a sandwich. That’s just Big Lettuce and its highly-paid lobbyists talking.

8. Go rescue a confused lady from a giant 8-bit ape. Avoid fireballs.