I consider myself a fairly adventurous eater, or at least one with diverse tastes. I’ve eaten beef tongue, guinea pig, sweetbreads and kangaroo; if a menu has pork belly, duck, lamb or marrow on it, I have to order it. All four, and I nearly faint with joy and indecision.
But my standby food, the one I go back to time and time again, is chicken. Boring old chicken. It’s easy to cook, easy to eat. Give me some chicken on the bone, dark meat only, and I could eat it nearly every day and not get sick of it. When I was a kid, my parents joked that I loved chicken so much, in a former life I must have been a fox. (Not that kind of fox. Shut up, it’s my parents we’re talking about.) Once, on a visit to relatives, I asked my aunt to make me fried chicken skin — just the skin. I was two.
Therefore, it’s only natural that I’m a big fan of chicken wings. They’re bite-size, dark-meat chicken on the bone that you’re supposed to eat with your hands, and they have almost as much skin on them as they do meat. What’s not to love?
When I decided to write about wings in New York City, I knew one place I had to hit was Bonnie’s Grill in Park Slope, Brooklyn. Not only is it consistently named as one of the best places for Buffalo wings in New York, but it’s also in Brooklyn (represent). I’d had a delicious burger at Bonnie’s once, but I’d never had the famed wings. Continue reading