Wing Sauce In My Blood
Legend (and the company website) has it that Buffalo Wings were created by Teressa Bellissimo in 1964 at the Anchor Bar in Buffalo, NY. She deep fried some wings, tossed them in a mix of butter and (allegedly) Crystal hot sauce and accidentally set the cornerstone for a billion dollar industry. The finger food was finally added to the menu in 1974 and the peppery wings paired with cool blue cheese grew in popularity; they were soon known nationwide, even if some heathens were using ranch instead of blue cheese.
In 1979 my Dad was assigned as an ROTC Instructor at Canisius College in Buffalo, NY. We lived just outside the city and my Dad would take us and his cadets to a bar called Rootie’s Pump every Wednesday for 10 cent wing night. It was a darkly lit saloon with sawdust on the floor, an air bowling table, a Ms. Pac-Man, and Galaga and even as a kid I felt right at home. There would be 20-30 Officers and Cadets every week and my Dad would start the ordering with multiple orders of 50 at a time. They would arrive in wax paper lined baskets, slick with the red/orange hot sauce and butter blend, with celery sticks and thick, chunky blue cheese dressing on the side. Heaps of the peppery, crisp fried wings covered the tables and were devoured instantly. The combined smells of the vinegar and peppers in the sauce, the fried fat and oil of the wings, the beer…they would all blend together into one warm, pungent, wonderful aroma. Bones would pile up on the table as fast as the platters would arrive and eventually the numbers of wings ordered would dwindle until everyone called it quits.
The Army gave my Dad orders to Germany, Korea, and Alaska but at the last minute those changed to exotic locales like Kentucky, Alabama, and Virginia. As a family we took the changes in stride and though we hated leaving Buffalo we helped to spread the gospel of the wings wherever we went. My Mom bought a Fry-Daddy and we would have Wing Nights at home, inviting over friends, making sauce on the stove and frying wings up, getting hungry as fuck when we tried to feed 10 people from a machine that could cook 8 wings every 20 minutes.
While in Virginia a bar called Brittany’s opened up near our house that did a 25 Cent Wing Night on Wednesdays. We were home.
“We’ll start with 20 wings, extra, extra, extra crispy, with extra blue cheese, extra hot sauce on the side, and an order of fries." My sister one day made a big deal out of how good the fries were with hot sauce and blue cheese and my Dad agreed and that became part of the order. The three “extra’s”? Necessary. The first the server thinks “Yeah, whatever”. The second they might actually type “Extra crispy” on the order to the kitchen. The third is where they think “If these wings aren’t crispy enough these freaks are going to make me bring them back.” Hence three extra’s. Because four is when it justifiably becomes a challenge and you start getting road pylons covered in hot sauce. Four is when the cooks put the wings down in the oil and go have a cigarette by the dumpster and talk about the desiccated charcoal you’re about to get. I know because when someone orders a Well Done Burger my call for years has been “Walking in…Hockey Puck.”
Things eventually fell apart for our family and Buffalo wings were that one weird thing that held us together. No matter what we were going through or which of us were together we could always just say “Wings?” and it would be game on. Mom and I, my Dad and my Sister, my Sister and I. Wings were the last meal I ate with both my parents together. Wings were the last meal my Mom ever ate period. To this day my sister and I will eat wings about once a month or so and I'm sure my parents would be thrilled to see the kids that used to throw eggs at each other keeping this particular tradition alive.
I found out as an adult that my parents had actually gone to Anchor Bar while we lived in Buffalo. My Dad and I were having a drink on his deck and he was all “Blah blah...the night your Mom and I went to Anchor Bar...blah blah..”
“Hold up, what the fuck did you just say? When did you guys go to Anchor Bar? And where were Teri and I?” I asked, stunned.
“Oh we got you guys a babysitter.” My Dad said off-handedly.
I couldn’t believe my ears. My inner child felt betrayed. This was coming out 30 years after the fact and now I’d have to hold a grudge against my parents for the rest of my life. These days they are both dead and I STILL hold a grudge. I’m going to die, see them in Heaven and say “I can’t believe you guys went to Anchor Bar without us.”
After so many years of cooking wings I have figured out a few tricks. The key is to render the wings first. I've seen them pre-fried, baked, grilled, and I think Alton Brown actually steams them. Regardless you have to get some of that fat out before you fry them...and grilling gives them a nice extra layer of flavor and crunch. Also, stay away from the jumbo wings. These are jacked-up super chickens...get chicken sized chicken wings. They haven't been pumped full of garbage and they'll cook up faster and crispier too. As for the dressing...don't skimp on the Blue Cheese itself. I process some Danish blue in with my mayo, sour cream, and buttermilk for the blue cheese base then add some more crumbles in when I mix in a touch of Worcestershire and lemon juice. Finish off with parsley and black pepper and you have something worthy for your perfectly crisp and sauced wing to take a dip in.
As a professional cook I’ve had a lot of time and opportunity to perfect my technique but I don’t stray too far from the traditional style. Buffalo wings are my Home Cooking and they should be served extra crispy, with the traditional butter/hot sauce blend, blue cheese dressing, and celery sticks. Some people use Ranch but traditionalists like me think that’s sacrilege. And now thanks to the magic of open editing Wikipedia thinks so too.
Anchor Bar Recipe Card...says right there "Bleu cheese.." Not fucking Ranch.
