|Photo courtesy of (and this is really embarrassing) Highlimitzz|
So there is this baseball team you might have heard of - the Boston Red Sox. Apparently prior to 2004, they had some kind of curse due to a trade of some guy named Babe Ruth blah blah blah - the details are vague but if you want the full story (and I mean FULL STORY) ask Mr. Bell.
Anyway, Mr. Bell and I met in the fall of 2004. Well we met at church (wait, we really did, I know that is the biggest cover for online dating but we truly did and I'll admit I online dated and have the stories and a totaled car to prove it). Anyway, we had a date or two and were just getting to know each other. I knew he liked baseball and even knew that since he grew up somewhere near Boston, he really liked the Red Sox. What I didn't know was that he would one evening SNEAK OUT of church under the guise of being so moved that he had to leave the building to compose himself when really he was heading to a bar to watch the game. Yes. He. Did.
Well, after church, I didn't quite know what to do. I mean whatever they were talking about at church (maybe I should remember that part of the story but I confess that I do not) didn't move me so it would seem heathen of me to call him and be like, "Hey, I thought we were going out after church." Then again, not calling wouldn't seem very sensitive and caring, either, and you know when you're first getting to know someone you want them to at least THINK you're sensitive and caring, right? This is another part of the story that has gotten lost over the years - I think he called me, he likes to say I called him (and he likes to tell people I was stalking him but that's a little extreme, I mean sure I could possibly be questioned for stalking Paula Deen via twitter but that is the extent of my stalker-ish-ness, I swear).
Anyway, to make this very long story short, he was at a sports bar, eating chicken wings and watching the Red Sox while I was at church - very Sheryl Crow/Kid Rock of us, right? I believe they were playing some team called the Yankees. I also believe they were down 3-0 in a 7 game series. I also believe that when they actually won the game and my boss (who was most likely drunk and also from Boston) called me to discuss this miraculous game, Mr. Bell began to think I was having a "thing" with said married boss but that is a story for another day - or not.
Back to the wings. They were not good. They were verging on terrible and I'm not just talking about the skin and bone part of it. They were soggy and vinegary and just gloppy and disgusting. And he ordered a second plate. That was when I knew 2 things: 1 - he needed to be saved from himself and 2 - I needed to learn how to make a mean wing.
Vegetable oil — for frying
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup Frank's Hot Sauce
1/4 tsp ground pepper
1/2 tsp garlic salt
1/4 tsp celery salt
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon paprika
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/4 teaspoon salt
12 chicken drumettes or party wings
|This is a drumette. If you insist on eating skin and tearing flesh from the bone like a barbarian, then use these and make this worth you time!|
1. In a deep fryer or heavy pot, heat enough oil to completely cover your wings to 375 degrees.
2. In a small pot, combine the butter, hot sauce, pepper, garlic salt and celery salt over low heat. Stir until butter is melted and then let simmer on low. This step is essential as it mellows the vinegar taste of the sauce.
3. Combine the flour, paprika, cayenne powder, and salt in a zip top bag. Shake chicken in the flour making sure to coat each piece.
4. Fry the wings, without over crowding them, for 14 minutes. Drain on paper towels and then quickly toss with the sauce in a large bowl.
5. Serve with dressing to dip.
And they lived happily (most days) ever after.