buzzkill and chicken wings

I wrote last week that I’m in a cooking rut — but here’s the real truth: I am in a baking rut. Apart from one recipe testing assignment, I haven’t concocted anything sweet since Christmas. Now that the end of the NFL season is in sight, though, I’m scheming for a February and March full of flour and sugar and butter. Maybe I’ll squeeze in a king cake before it’s too late. I’m definitely due for some chocolate chip cookies. And maybe, MAYBE, I’ll go big and make a batch of donuts. Until then, some decidedly saltier fare …

… chicken wings. My god, chicken wings. How had I never made chicken wings before last week?

Remember a few years ago, when everyone was air frying everything, little chicken drumsticks included? Well, I’ve never had the counter space for an air fryer. Or a deep fryer, certainly — though I’m of firm belief that no one needs either. All anyone needs is a good pot of oil. Maybe that’s my southern Missouri DNA talking.

honey barbecue chicken wings

Somehow, it took a recipe testing assignment to draft me into the wing game, and now that I’m here, I’m thrilled. I’m also hooked. Chicken wings, it turns out, are alarmingly easy to make. Alarming for my arteries, and for the world’s trees, since I tend to slay an entire roll of paper towels per half-dozen wings consumed.

Health and environmental concerns aside, I can’t recommend this Washington Post recipe enough. A 10-minute frying time was perfect for my wings, which served as a reminder of how often restaurant wings arrive either fried into a shrivel or underdone and chewy.