Arguing about food online is a great American pastime. We kvetch about which city has the best pizza, the origins of hummus, and if raisins belong in potato salad. I participated in this cherished activity online last week, when I declared candy corn trash and added that the people who enjoy candy corn are garbage people. You can only imagine what kind of well-reasoned discourse followed my very nuanced and clever take.
But as we enter the first week of the NFL season, a time when American sports media is full of smart and well-thought-out commentary about the impacts of CTE, sports gambling, and whatever constitutes a proper relationship between a journalist and head coach, I’m about to join the party with the following declaration:
Chicken wings are the most American food.
Yes, my very good colleagues have made cases for the hot dog and the American flag cake. But I’m not even sure hot dogs are the official food of baseball anymore, while American flag cakes feel like edible Lite-Brite projects. But as I surveyed the July offerings for the country’s 250th birthday all across the nation, I was severely disappointed by the lack of reverence for the wing.
There’s no doubt, we’re in a dark era where Big Beef is desperate and panicked, and hoping the current administration will once again make steak great again. And who am I kidding? A juicy New York Strip is nearly unbeatable (want to argue if I picked the right cut of meat?). But our country’s alleged strength is in its ability to rise to any occasion. However, beef can’t compete in the all-important portability category. No amount of zesty Arby’s sauce can make the fast-food chain’s steak nuggets superior to a well-seasoned wing.
And that’s where chicken wings shine; you can enjoy them on a stroll through a street fair. I used to trick myself into eating healthy in college when I’d order wings and a salad from Syracuse, New York’s venerable Dorian’s. Wings are pizza’s ideal sidekick, a delivery-friendly item that helps limit gorging on crusty carbs. Of course, we all have to pay homage to Anchor Bar in Buffalo, New York, the birthplace of the Buffalo wing some 62 years ago. It’s been 20 years since I made a visit, and it was there we realized how big of a component ketchup is in the bar’s sauce.
As tastes mature, your preference in wings changes, too. Fried wings don’t excite me as much as ones smoked or grilled. Dry-rubbed wings really are the way to go. And you don’t need ranch or blue cheese. Honey mustard works, too. I have zero interest in recreating my own Hot Ones challenge, no matter how entertaining host and fellow White Sox fan Sean Evans makes it look. Naked or breaded, wings aren’t just about the Scoville scale. You don’t need to be in a delightfully tacky restaurant, and you certainly don’t need backing from private equity to make them.
Chicago is known for its Chinese-Korean lollipop wings, something that originated in the ‘80s at Great Sea, a sticky-sweet masterpiece that doesn’t rely on heat for its allure. The owners of ROOP in Chicago have long served wings with a South Asian twist at their restaurants.
I remember the first time my cousin tasted a wing. He was in Chicago on business from Bangalore. To him, American cuisine was bland. He was used to seasoning, and he wasn’t very happy with the ho-hum offerings that appealed to the American tourists in downtown Chicago. But the Buffalo wing disrupted his taste buds. After one bite of the signature orange-coated wing, his posture changed. He cracked a half smile and nodded his head. I was reminded of the end of The Karate Kid when a defeated Johnny hands the trophy to his rival Daniel, declaring, “You’re all right LaRusso!”
Lemon-pepper wings are also noteworthy. I’ve talked about the phenomenon with Mike Jordan of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution and sportswriter Carron J. Phillips. Lemon-pepper wings have an illustrious history within the Black community. They’re so popular that even the New York Times has attempted to recreate the recipe. Which… feels like ordering a chai latte from Starbucks with a yoga mat underneath your arm. Namaste, friends. Friend of Ravenous and food editor Monti Carlo dove into the lore surrounding Atlanta’s venerable Magic City Kitchen, a famous strip club known for its wings.
While compiling lists of the best wings, I’m often told that Buffalo wings should be in their own category and international-flavored offerings, such as Bonchon’s Korean wings, should be separated. No way. Wings are wings. And they’re more American than apple pie.
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I still don’t understand why restaurants continue to use AI slop when they have delicious food they make themselves in their own kitchens. Regardless of motivations, The Verge tries to answer the burning question: Why does that AI slop look like slop? Meanwhile, Wired predicts it’s going to get worse.
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Raven Nickname of the Week: Elizabeth Eaten
Reader Bee Becker shares the reason behind the chosen moniker:
For the nickname for the Raven, I'd like to suggest Elizabeth Eaten, because as a trans woman, the story of Elizabeth Eden has always tugged on my heartstrings, and as a comedian & performer, I've always loved a groan-worthy pun.
We’re groaning with you, Bee. Thank you!
Want to give our raven a silly little name? You have to become a Regular. Do you want to know the raven's real name? Only Big Spenders have access to that truth.
