Besides, Rudy as I’m led to understand, ordered his Nashville hot chicken at the wimpy “mild” degree of heat so he’s not likely to cast aspersions. Not even Rudy Vigil, who recommended FireBird Nashville Hot Chicken to us, will pry that blackmail-worthy nugget from us. Nor will we disclose which of us in a teary-eyed coughing and sputtering fit uttered “no mas” after finishing but half of the hot chicken sandwich we shared. Nor will there be any jokes about taking away his (or my) man card. One of us told the other the Nashville hot chicken too hot to handle, but the name of the brother to make that startling and cowardly admission is not something that will be divulged here. There are some things brothers will confide only in one another. Fittingly, I was with Mario when he experienced Nashville hot chicken for the first time. That may not have been a first, but like the four touchdowns scored by Al Bundy, it was one of those youth-reclaiming victories we’ll boast of well into our 80s. Already in our grizzled 30s, we once beat two much younger (and ostensibly more fit) starters on Peñasco’s state championship basketball team. Mario would go on to similarly dominate high school wrestling opponents. I took him to his first championship wrestling match at Albuquerque’s Civic Auditorium where we watched “Rapid” Ricky Romero dispatch “Yellow Belly” Robley. He was a quick study, soon terrifying our grandmother with drifting skills Formula D drivers would envy. There was the time I taught him how to drive on our dad’s 1965 standard transmission Chevrolet pickup truck. My brother Mario–seven years younger, much better looking and quite a bit smarter–and I have shared many memorable firsts. Chile Chicken Nashville Hot Chicken (Formerly Firebird Nashville Hot Chicken)
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