The Queen’s Wings: Buffalo Wing Recipe

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Add a little extra zing to your Super Bowl party menu with this delicious Buffalo Wing recipe created by me, the Queen!  I promise you will never want your plain old wings again!  Enjoy!

A few quick notes on the Queen’s Wings:

  1. The sauce is dairy-free.  Vegetarians and vegans can dip veggies in it while they regret the life choices they made that resulted in them being unable to eat chicken wings.  Sure, they may end up living longer but they will never know the joy of this sauce on fried chicken.
  2. Check your fully thawed drummettes for feathers.  No one wants to bite into a feather.  That reminds us of what we are actually eating, and no one wants that!
  3. Do not dip these wings in blue cheese or ranch.  This sauce is meant to savor!  If you must dip something, steal some veggie sticks from the vegetarians you had to invite to your party and dip those in ranch or blue cheese, but leave these wings alone!  Trust me, you’ll thank me later.
  4. Apparently we are experiencing a national wing shortage in preparation for the Super Bowl, so get out there and claim your wings fast!  Don’t be a weak Sally, and let the cute, old lady next to you have the last package of wings in the refrigerated meats section!  Ram her with your cart, grab the wings, and haul ass!  This is the Super Bowl.  You must have wings!

So, here it is…my secret recipe…and, let’s face it, part of the reason my husband will never leave me…

Ingredients:

2.5 lbs. chicken wing drummettes (approximately 20 wings)

Canola oil for frying

½ cup Smart Balance Original Buttery Spread

½ tbsp. minced garlic

3 tsp. ground cumin

½ cup Frank’s Red Hot Original Cayenne Pepper Sauce

Instructions:

For the drummettes:

Preheat the Canola oil to 350 degrees in a deep fryer. Cook wings for 10-13 minutes for crispy, golden brown wings.   Drain the wings on a paper towel placed in the bottom of a large bowl so that you can drain the wings and toss the wings in the sauce in the same dish.  Who needs another dish to clean, right?

For the sauce:

Melt buttery spread in a small saucepan on the stovetop at medium heat.  Next add the garlic and cumin.  Cook until the garlic is no longer raw, but not burnt!  Nobody likes sour garlic.  Cooking the garlic and cumin in the butter for 2-3 minutes will also allow the cumin to open up and do its thing.  Next add the pepper sauce.  Allow the sauce to simmer on low until the wings are ready to be tossed.  Stir occasionally with a whisk.   The melted butter spread and pepper sauce will separate if sitting.  Relax, this is normal.  Just whisk the sauce again to combine the ingredients.

Once the drummettes are cooked, toss in a large bowl with the sauce.  I would suggest pouring any extra sauce directly over the wings or in a ramekin for dipping.  Serve with carrot and celery sticks, and enjoy!

 


T.V. Commercials: Wisdom & Garbage

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The colder weather of January has meant one major change for me:  I am spending more time on my couch in front of the T.V.  With this change, I have adopted a couple of new truths.  The first is that extra time spent lolling about on my sofa will in no way inhibit my ability to wear a swimsuit this summer without frightening small children on the beach.  The second is that T.V. commercials are an accurate depiction of society filled with gems of wisdom that must be followed.  So far, T.V. commercials have taught me that:

  1. Every single person in America, women and men, want to lose weight and will pay nearly any amount for that to happen, especially if the program or pill that promises the slender dream requires little or no effort from the Fatty McFatterson’s of the world.  Apparently, if I want to look good in my swimsuit come this June, all I have to do is sign up for Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, Nutrisystem, or South Beach Diet.  I could sprinkle Sensa on the chocolate covered pretzels in front of me.  Or I could take Alli, SlimQuick, or Dexatrim.  According to the T.V., what I don’t have to do is get off my couch, stop watching T.V., or stop eating the pretzels.  Oh, and if I do miraculously lose the weight I need to lose, I must buy a string bikini, get a boob job, and pose for my “after” shot with my new boobs sticking up in the air and my hip cocked out to the side while sucking in my abdomen as tightly as I can.
  2. Christianity is the only faith that will help you find a soul mate.  Don’t believe me?  Please see christianmingle.com.  Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, and all other non-Christian faiths are out of luck.  Apparently, God doesn’t want to “find a match for you.”
  3. Every drug you could possibly take has with it a possible side effect of death.  Looking for relief from your fibromyalgia, erectile dysfunction, asthma, high blood pressure, COPD, heart burn, acid reflux, restless leg syndrome, or mild to moderate depression?  Lucky for you, the T.V. knows which pill you should take.  You just better be willing to risk your life for it!
  4. Real men only eat greasy cheeseburgers.  If you are a man and eat, very loudly might I add, anything other than greasy cheeseburgers while watching models eat greasy cheeseburgers then you are not a real man.  Back away from the healthy entrée and smear some ketchup on your face!  Now you look like a real man.
  5. Women are only concerned with things that belong in bathrooms.  We as women need to “get real about what happens in the bathroom” and seriously consider what toilet paper we use, if a specific tampon brand will or will not help us win a marathon, what product will make little Timmy stop peeing on himself, and which cleaning product is best when little Timmy decides to pee on the walls.  Men are not concerned with what happens in the bathroom.  The men are still eating their cheeseburgers.
  6. Finally, the right cereal will change your life.  According to the talking flat screen on my wall, the right cereal will give you a day’s worth of fiber, help you lose weight and maintain a healthy weight at the same time, lower your cholesterol, and provide you with all the energy you need to conquer the day.  Wow!  All that from one bowl of cereal?  Amazing!

Perhaps both of my new truths are wrong.  Is it possible T.V. commercials provide no wisdom or helpful guidance whatsoever?  Should I turn off the T.V. and get off this couch before my butt grows 2 sizes?  Maybe.  But then again, maybe a commercial will tell me what to do.


The McSorley’s Way of Life

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The McSorley’s way of life may not be for everyone, but it should be.  On a recent trip to NYC, my friends Jeff and Stephanie introduced my husband and I to McSorley’s Old Ale House, located at 15 East 7th in the East Village of Manhattan.  It is the oldest Irish Pub in NYC and a place I will never forget.  Sitting amongst the rowdy patrons of McSorley’s, I decided that I should always live like I did for 2 hours that night.

The rules of McSorley’s are easy to learn, and, God willing, should be implemented in all aspects of life:

1.    Listen to the waiter.  These waiters know how to wield their power in order to get things done.  And they get things done quickly.  Here’s the scene:  you and 3 friends push your way into the crowded pub, all the seats are filled, and you can barely snake your way to the bar.  After getting a couple of beers (they serve them 2 at a time here) from the bartender, you spot a waiter, who immediately (and magically) knows you just arrived.  No time is wasted on greetings or flare.  Look at the waiter, mouth the word “four” accompanied by holding up 4 fingers, and wait.  The waiters will get you seats as soon as available.  No need to look for a hostess and seating chart.  They don’t exist in this place; nothing unnecessary does.  When seats look to be coming open, the waiter will motion you towards the table.  “Stand here,” will be all the waiter says as he points to your table and then moves on to the next task requiring his attention.  Stand there, look pretty, drink your beer, and be ready to pounce as soon as Frat Boy and his loud as hell friends who are currently pretending to understand rugby vacate their seats.  Then sit.  The waiter has spoken.  Life is just easier when someone capable takes the wheel.

A special note here for the members of Congress:  would I have preferred the small table up front near the window?  Of course!  But what we really needed, especially for my friend Stephanie who still insists on rocking the four-inch heels on a special night out, was a seat, any seat.  At McSorley’s, indecision, stalling, and hesitation will leave you standing next to the bar scrunching your toes as you try to relieve the pain caused by fabulous shoes.  I’ll take the quick decision making of McSorley’s over whatever it is you think your doing on Capital Hill any day of the week.  Ponder that for a minute, my dearies.  Thank you.  I feel better.

2.  Light beer or dark beer?  That’s it.  That’s your only choice.  This is not a pub full of self-entitled, have it my way, double shot, no whip, skinny latte, coffee house whiney babies.  At McSorley’s you get light beer or dark beer.  No wine.  No liquor.  The lack of endless choices results in a bar that moves quickly.  Not once during the 2 hours spent there did I want to kick some little tart in the neck because she just couldn’t decide between a frozen strawberry daiquiri and an amaretto sour and really thought the bartender could help her decide while the rest of the world was dying of thirst behind her.  Get over yourself, Sweetheart, and just drink a beer.

3.  It is what it is.  And other than finally allowing women through the doors in the 70’s, not much has changed in decades.  Supposedly, not a single piece of the memorabilia that covers every square inch of wall space has been removed since 1910.  (You can throw out that American History textbook.  McSorley’s has you covered.)  From the looks of the small pub, the furniture and sawdust covering the floor was put in place over a century ago.  The seats are wooden, no fancy cushions or arm rests.  The menu is sparse, to say the least, offering a few Irish-themed sandwiches and cheese and crackers, but it offers enough to fill the hole in your stomach.  Like life, this place is loud and smells funny and is really all about the people you get to share a few moments with while squeezing 10 people around a table made for 6.  Complain about it, try to change it, turn your nose up, but at the end of the day, you love it.  You know you will.

4.  Buy another or get out.  This was my absolute favorite part of the McSorley’s way of life.  When the waiter notices your glass is empty, he will ask if you want another.  If you say yes, before you know it another round will be set in front of you.  If you say no, he will motion for you to pay up and get out.  Loitering is not allowed.  Buy another, participate, contribute, or get out of the way.  This is society, baby.  Be functional or be gone.

5.  Socialize.  If you would like to live as a hermit, I suggest buying a cave in New Zealand.  At McSorley’s, you are forced to socialize with strangers.  Now, for us introverts, this can seem like an anxiety filled task.  This goes completely against the “stranger danger” lessons of our childhood.  Maybe it was the volume of the tiny bar or how closely I was forced to sit by the six strangers sharing the communal table, but before I knew what was happening, I was chatting up the couple next to me.  I quickly learned that an Alabama woman and a couple from Washington Heights (north of Harlem) aren’t that different after all.

So, yes, I want to live as I did at McSorley’s Old Ale House for 2 great hours.  Namby-pamby leadership annoys me.  Endless choices bog me down.  Resting on my laurels makes me lazy.  Refusing to accept life for what it is, the good, the bad, and the strangely wonderful, wears me out.  Yes, indeed, I want to live the McSorley’s way of life.