In August, The Post’s Tim Carman reviewed places around Washington that can satisfy a sudden craving for the classic carryout combo: wings and mumbo sauce.
After nearly five months of working from home — or living at work, as the Eeyores among us describe the situation — I’ve been experiencing this strange phenomenon: I miss Washington. The very city the president derides as a swamp, the same place that much of the country views as an argument for adult day care, the land once called a “hellishly humid pit of despair with unbearable traffic.”
The people who live in and around the District know the difference between Washington, the seat of the U.S. government, and Washington, a city of contradictions and bleak disparities that, despite it all, has more heart and soul than America will ever know. Duke Ellington. Shirley Horn, Roberta Flack, Donny Hathaway, Fugazi, Minor Threat, Chuck Brown, Sweet Honey in the Rock, Billy Taylor. I have listened to these artists, and others nurtured in the broken diamond of Washington, countless times in the weeks since my house became my office and my adopted city became a stranger to me, experienced only through brief trips into town for touchless takeout orders.
This is what weeks of self-isolation will do to you: It will make you nostalgic for a place that’s still your home. I think this explains my sudden, and unexpected, craving for wings and mumbo sauce. Even though the sauce has roots in Chicago, where Select Brands owns the “MUMBO” trademark, if you want to experience Washington — its highs, its lows, its poverty, its gentrification, its beauty, its decay — all you need to do is visit the city’s many carryouts, so many of which trade in the classic combo.
Here are Tim Carman’s recommendations: