If anyone asked us about D.C.’s signature dish, of course we’d say wings with mumbo sauce. If they asked where to get it, we’d send them to Howard China.

This teeny carryout is a favorite of Howard students, and it was a friend from Howard who introduced us to it when we visited him as undergrads. He walked us across Georgia Avenue at two in the morning and ordered us the same thing we order to this day: “Three-piece with mumbo sauce please – and sauce on the fries.” Getting full for $3 was a college student’s dream.

Not much has changed at Howard China since then. We suspect the same shrink-wrapped bottles of Mystic have been displayed behind the glass since 1995. Borf has been there. So has Nore, who crossed out Borf’s name when he tagged the peeling, wood-paneled trashcan. There are a couple of cruddy booths, but we’d never be able to eat in peace with the door propped open and the constant commotion. Plus, come nightfall, this place emits some kind of reverse bat signal that summons the sketchiest of characters.

But we don’t need ambience as long as the mumbo sauce is exactly the way we remember – and it is. The makeup of mumbo has always been a well guarded secret. It’s not straight-up sweet-and-sour sauce, as a rival Georgia Avenue carryout seems to think. (Frauds!) It’s also different than barbecue sauce poured over fried wings, a là Harold’s of Chicago, though legend has it mumbo originated in the Windy City. There’s no official governing committee to certify it, but we think true mumbo should be both sweet and savory with a hint of zest. It should be sticky, not watery, and fall squarely between barbecue and sweet-and-sour on the sauce spectrum.

Today, as always, our chicken was fried to order. A rubber band corralled the wings threatening to burst from the Styrofoam. We checked that our crinkle-cut fries were sufficiently doused in sticky, marmalade-hued sauce and dug right in. (Mumboed fries don’t stay crisp for long.) Then it was on to the lightly battered wings. After the first one, we found ourselves torn between licking the sauce off our fingers and pushing on to the next wing. We choose the fingers. Wing number two would have to wait its turn.

Strangely, we’ve never ordered Howard China’s Chinese food. But the woks are always busy — we like to watch the cooks through the glass — so perhaps it’s decent. Or maybe the term “decent” is relative if you’re a starving college student. As for our mumbo search, we’ve tried Yum’s and other places, but every time we stray from Howard China, we just end up disappointed.

Howard China
2827 Georgia Ave NW
(202) 332-9461