Grilled Wings

Now that's a heap of wings! And a fine supper they made. As well they should: sweet, hot, spicy.

When I was a kid, we had fried chicken at my grandparents' house almost every Sunday we were there. My grandmother always tried to grab the wings. Even put them on her plate before she set the platter down on the table. And then there was always a show-down: she and her sisters, fighting for the wings. "Oh, Sis, let me have that. You take a breast."

I thought it was martyrdom, saving the best for everyone else. Um, no. Now I know it was rank selfishness--because a wing is definitely crunchier, juicier, fattier, and skinishier. (What would be the adjective for having more skin? Skinnier? That sounds way wrong for chicken wings.) It was one of my favorite parts of developing recipes for THE ULTIMATE COOK BOOK (which you can find here)--so we ended up leaving three recipes in that volume.

Anyway, Bruce made some wings last night on the grill because we had a momentary day of sunshine and warmth, into the low 70s.

Boy, were those things good.

Here's how it went: he put 3 pounds of cut-up chicken wings in a bowl (not the flappers but the drumlets and the winglets, not the pointy flappers). He then added 2 tablespoons olive brine (the liquid from a jar of green olives), 2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce, 1 tablespoon ground ancho chile powder, 2 teaspoons dried oregano, 1 teaspoon ground cumin, 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon, 2 minced garlic cloves, and several dashes Tabasco sauce. Stirred the whole thing up, covered it with plastic wrap, and stored it in the fridge for 4 hours.

He heated the grill just to low--in fact, very low, about 300F--and cooked the wings over direct heat for 10 minutes per side. If you don't want to do them on the grill, broil them 5 inches from the heat source for 10 minutes, turning occasionally, until golden brown all over. I ask you: could you find anything more real, more satisfying, more fantastic? Real food does away with the fake at the first bite. As well it should.