creatures of habit …

…wing lore meets the air fryer.

About wings

During my college years we had a favorite option for a late-night wings craving: Chuck’s Spring Street Café. In 1988 Husband made a small fortune in tips as a delivery driver because this place cornered the town and gown market for proper, zesty Buffalo wings. If the name sounds vaguely familiar it’s because a Menendez brother bought the restaurant and planned to turn it into a franchise until he was arrested for murder. (No, I didn’t know him.) Chuck’s is still around under new ownership and since my 35th college reunion is this May, I assure you there will be wings on the menu. And a Hoagie Haven cheesesteak…probably a floppy slice of NJ pizza, although Victor’s has long-since disappeared. These are the caloric comfort foods of the “best four years” of my life and I dig back in whenever I need reassurance that I’m not dead yet. Every college town has their versions, and while Atlanta is becoming a great food city, it just can’t compete with these northeastern staples. Nor should it even try. But I will.

Pizza and cheesesteaks debates aside, wings are also an extremely touchy topic, much like an Italian-American red sauce, anything having to do with bar-b-que’d anything, and one’s personal condiment preference. There are rival factions who will come to blows over meatball structure or dry rub composition, and perhaps a few are even willing to die on the mayonnaise hill (totally me). As for wings, I subscribe to the standards that were established decades ago, long before large chains capitalized on the idea of a plate of tiny, over-priced, fried scraps of chicken bones. They’re not beaks, but meat-wise it’s awfully close and the sauce situation is getting excessive. These folks should leave wing-ery to the food trucks and independent restaurants. But they won’t.

Call me a traditionalist, but my relationship with the Buffalo wing is moored to a specific time and place. As a closeted creature of habit, I downright refuse to dissociate this food from those memories. From a culinary standpoint, I think the most critical benchmark is texture, regardless of size, presentation, or flavor – I shouldn’t have to specify my wing order as “extra, extra crispy.” Nobody wants a soft, gummy wing casing when a stubborn, sauce-embossed crunch is the whole damn point. Now, how you get to that crunch is open to discussion, as are the unfortunate health implications surrounding deep-frying chicken fat. Baked wings are about as fun as baked fries and I’d rather do without. But I can’t.

About habits

A little more background about food and comfort: after college I landed in New York City, a metropolis of international cuisines where one could dine at a different restaurant every night and not repeat for nearly 50 years. But what did my roommate and I do instead? We settled into a comfy courtship with 1st Wok at the corner of 74th and First Avenue – we ordered delivery at least twice a week and always the same thing. Living in the City can be impossibly lonely and viciously cold, and a steaming box of familiar Chinese takeout was often the next best thing to a warm Southern dinner.

For the first year the owners would verify our address on every phone call: we would specify apartment 17-A and they would respond with “A as in apple?” By year two we were practically family and could simply phone and say “Hi, we are ready for dinner…yep, A as in apple.” Just like that one order of Chicken with Hot Peppers and Peanuts and one order of Sweet and Sour chicken was on the way. Obsession, routine, or habit? Doesn’t matter what it’s called, the comfort was the same.

In the late 80s, Thursday night had a great TV line-up and Cheers ruled the 9:00pm spot. In every episode, a lovable barfly made his customary entrance and would be greeted with a roaring “NORM!” Beer in hand at his usual spot at the end of the bar, Norm embodied the predictable, comfortable creature of habit. That’s the setup for our embarrassing extended run of takeout meals back in 2018. We were all busy working, studying, solving problems, fixing life, managing crises – you know the drill.

On the more crazy nights, Husband would place an online order to the Asia Café and 20 minutes later we’d send teenage Sous Chef to pick up dinner. A few steps into the restaurant our boy was always met with a rousing personal welcome à la “NORM!” It rang out from the hostess stand, the sushi bar, the kitchen, and the gaggle of wait staff serving customers. What a fun routine – everybody knew the kid by name and anticipated his weekly pick-up. Only it wasn’t his name being cheered, but Husband’s. So Sous Chef now also answers to “Norm.” And yes, we had to explain the reference to him too.

“Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name.”

Cheers theme song

About that air fryer

In my little family, Norm the Sous Chef included, our baseline personas are very much creatures of habit. I settle into routines with ease, mostly because they provide the skeletal support I need to have my moments of silliness, daring, and often a little recklessness. But between my escapades and pretending to still be cool, something like a new piece of cookery can be akin to sorcery. As I mentioned above, deep-fried chicken fat is generally frowned upon so last month I broke down and bought an air fryer. It was a little treat for myself; birthdays will do that to a girl.

Turns out, I sort-of already had an air fryer, two actually, in the form of my big convection oven and my aging microwave’s air fry feature – same concept, different presentations. The former has recently developed some scary-loud rattling sounds above 375° and the latter can no longer display the number “0.” Neither seems particularly safe to operate at high temps. Plus, there is just something about that sleek, compact machine with its snug little basket that I wanted to have. I’m generally hesitant to hop on trend with small kitchen appliances and I managed to stave off the InstaPot, the NutiBullet, or any type of juicer. However, the high-temp allure of super-efficient convection heat drew me in.

The mechanics and mythology surrounding the air fryer confounded me for weeks. What oils do I use? Am I committed to the presets? Can I check the food mid-fry? What if it starts to burn? It reminded me of growing up with the predecessor to the modern-day microwave, the Amana Radarange. That technology was so mysterious that we were advised to keep a small glass of water in the back of the oven in case we turned it on with nothing inside – like it was possible to crank those sticky, rotary knobs by accident. We were riding the wave of 1980s Cold War paranoia as if a rogue radarange was going to initiate a nuclear holocaust. Still, I recall we all skirted around the kitchen perimeter to give Miss Amana a wide berth.

This month I began boldly experimenting with my new air fryer…and the notion that old comforts can be upgraded for modern times. Still, I’m trying to find my way back to a Chuck’s-worthy, cardiac-friendly(ish) wing that won’t stink up the house with grease fumes or expose my family to questionable radiation. Or heart disease. I think I’m close, and two steps make it work: a hearty pre-fry seasoning and a light dusting of cornstarch. More importantly, I broke free from some outdated habits – we all have them, whether constructed by time or experience or self-inflicted rules. We can’t let habits become chains, and we can’t let chains pose as comfort. Wings are neither chains nor habits. They are bliss…as long as they’re crunchy. Enjoy.

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Air Fryer Chicken Wings

Notes: I’m using the COSORI 12-in-1 Air Fryer 5.8-quart capacity, which means it can cook about 1.5 pounds of wings with ample air circulation. I’m not sure what all 12 fabulous functions are yet, but it is far easier and more consistent than my large convection oven. I bought it “like new” for half price on Amazon before all the Bezos nonsense.

Ingredients

• 1 lb chicken wings
• 1 tsp garlic powder
• ½ tsp onion powder
• ½ tsp regular or smoked paprika
• ½ tsp cayenne
• ½ tsp salt
• ½ tsp pepper
• 2 tbsp cornstarch
• Cooking spray

Method

Preheat your air fryer to 380° for 5 minutes.

Combine seasonings in a bowl, toss in DRY wings, and coat everybody well.

Spray wings with cooking spray and place in preheated air fryer basket.

Select CHICKEN and SHAKE functions if available. Otherwise, select 380° and about 23 minutes, depending on your fryer capacity, wing size, etc. Be brave.

Flip each wing when SHAKE reminder indicates (about the half-way point) and continue to air fry the wings until dark and crispy. The internal temp should register 165° but that shouldn’t be a challenge due to their size in the enclosed heat chamber.

Slather the cooked wings in sauce(es) of choice. You may need to air fry in batches to feed more than two people, but do NOT crowd the basket or this method won’t work. Just keep any cooked wings warm under tented foil and add to the pile as each batch is finished. Or, serve the wings immediately in courses, coated with a different flavor each round.

Sauces & Variations

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P.S. Blue cheese, not ranch.

et cetera