It don’t mean a thing if you ain’t got that wing


Yeah. Those will work.

I think I had my first Buffalo-style chicken wing in 1985. I know I liked them immediately, but at the time I never could have guessed what percentage of my body weight they’d eventually account for. If you are what you eat, I’m a mostly superfluous appendage for an animal that can’t fly. And I’m OK with that.

I consider the Buffalo-style chicken wing a perfect food. It’s the second-best dish to come out of Buffalo, after Beef on Weck. That’s not something you find much outside Western New York, though in Covington, KY you can get a very credible one at Kelly’s Public House in the Radisson Hotel.

I’m a purist when it comes to putting the word “Buffalo” in front of the word “wing.” The wings should be deep-fried crispy and tossed in a mixture of Frank’s Hot Sauce and butter. Maybe a touch of garlic. Anything other than Bleu Cheese for dipping is an abomination. Celery must be present to remind your body that green food exist. I have, however, gotten quite fond of the trend of smoking or grilling the wings instead of deep-frying. That’s what I’m doing right now: smoking a mess of wings on the Big Green Egg. They went on partially frozen and I have the temp set to 325 (so the skin will get crispy). We’re not going Buffalo tonight. Carla found a teriyaki sauce recipe that sounds delicious. We’re going with that.

Not a bad way to end a weekend.

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