In Which I Recant My Love Of Buffalo Wings

My friends, we have a serious problem.

Let me preface this next part by saying that in the past I have only cooked with boneless, skinless chicken breast. I am not a huge fan of the dark meat, can do without the skin, and never liked eating chicken on the bone (until I discovered Buffalo Wings a little over a month ago). Point is, I never had a need for anything other than boneless, skinless chicken breast, and thus, had never cooked with anything other than it.

So, last week we do the grocery shopping. I had been craving wings like crazy, and there really isn't anywhere great to get them in town. So, we decide to make our own at home. We got the butter and the Franks Red Hot (because that is the ONLY way to go) and ventured to the poultry section. I was all for buying the pack of wings that had been separated, but A would have none of that. He did make a good point that you get a better value if you buy the wings not separated and butcher them yourself, but I really didn't feel like doing all the work of separating them - especially since it was something I had never done before. Oh sure, I've seen them do it a million times on Food Network, so I know how to do it...I just really didn't feel like doing it. But, A promised he would take care of the butchering, and I could concentrate on making the yummy sauce that would go on the finished product. I was down with that, and so, we bought the wings whole.

We had made plans with my parents to have the wings last night. So, J (best friend) and I started getting dinner ready around 7. A was sleeping as Mondays are always early and long for him, but he had promised he would do the wings. So, J wakes him up. A comes into the kitchen, takes a single wing, and says to J, "Just cut them where the bones come together. I'm going to take a shower." At this point, I was cutting up potatoes and had nothing to do with the chicken. So, I finish my potato cutting and everything, and I see J struggling with the chicken wings. I figure it can't be too hard...I've seen it done millions of times on Food Network, and J really looks like he doesn't know what he's doing. So, I step in and take over.

First, let me just say that prior to last night, I had heard that pregnant women sometimes have issues with cooking chicken. I never understood it. That is, until last night. And, I am not even pregnant.

The whole finding and breaking the joints - total fun...loved it...no problem with it. The blood gushing forth from said chicken wing - no problem. We could have had a big cleaver or just better knives, and I would have been happy...but overall, it wasn't too bad, and I didn't mind doing it too much. The thing that did sort of bother me was the squishiness of the skin and fat in my hands...not only did it make it more difficult to hold the chicken while I was cutting it, but it felt disgusting. It instantly made me understand why some pregnant women just can not handle raw chicken. I get it.

So, with all of that being said, at first, the experience was fine...maybe a little annoying since I didn't really want to be doing it...but fine. Then, I made a bad mistake. It is a mistake I will regret forever: I looked closely at the raw chicken skin. And do you know what I saw on the raw chicken skin? No? I'll tell you....I saw chicken hair! CHICKEN HAIR, people...chicken hair! At first, I thought maybe I was seeing things or maybe it was my own hair...but no...upon closer inspection of all wings in the pack, I found tiny, blonde chicken hairs on EVERY SINGLE ONE. And obviously, I am no idiot and do know that the bumps on chicken skin are hair follicles...but that chickens actually had hair, and it didn't fall out after they died but stayed on to taunt me as I'm trying my best to butcher it? I HAD NO IDEA. I nearly tossed my cookies...I mean, the combination of the greasy fat and slimy skin and then the chicken hair added into it...was almost too much for me. But, I pulled myself together and finished separating the pack, washed my hands 3 or 4 times, and got the heck away from the chicken hair chicken.

When it came time to sit down and eat the wings, I just couldn't do it. Every time I would reach for one, I would get this vision of a piece of raw chicken with bumpy skin and little blonde chicken hairs sticking up out of it. I nearly retched at the dinner table. I can't think about it without cringing. And, I am positive it has nothing to do with my compassion for the chicken and everything to do with the fact that there were freaking chicken hairs on the food I was going to consume. Yeah, I know, it probably burned off in the oil...but still...ewww? Chicken hairs. At this point, I'm having trouble even thinking about eating boneless, skinless chicken breast because I know that chicken hairs used to reside there.

Honestly, there are just some things I don't want to know. Hot dogs are made of all sorts of gross stuff...that's fine as long as I don't have to know what's in it. The sauce I love at the Hibachi place may just have mayo in it, and I just try to ignore that because I can't actually taste it, and the sauce is yummmy...again, I am blissfully ignorant. Chicken have hairs...fine...but I never needed to actually know that.

So now, my month long love affair with Buffalo wings is over.

Originally published on 03/24/2009