Sassy Radish

It’s hard to remember where my love for the American football began. It is an improbable love, sandwiched between my Russian heritage and my sports-apathetic family. In Russia, people who were interested in sports, watched either soccer or hockey. They also read chess-match play-by-play summaries in the paper (yes, chess was considered a sport in Russia – I kid you not). My family, on the other hand, couldn’t care less. If it wasn’t opera, my father wasn’t watching it. And if it wasn’t being broiled, fried or braised – my mother instantly would lose interest.

So it begs the question why I’ve become such an avid football fan, replete with an arsenal of game-friendly foods in my repertoire. While I’ve certainly made my efforts to assimilate better, sports fanaticism is a hard one to fake. You actually have to understand what’s going on. And football comes with a lot of rules at its disposal, so it’s not a late-comer friendly game. Also, it doesn’t hurt that Bill Belichick and I share the same high school alma-mater.

To me, however, football has always about war for territory. Every inch matters. Every scrap of that field makes a difference. And the strategy involved to defend that distance, or penetrate the enemy lines, all happening in mere seconds – all of it fascinates me. Perhaps the season between Thanksgiving and the Super Bowl is my favorite. It’s a great excuse to gather with friends, yell at the television, and wear pants with an elastic waist in order to comfortably ingest things like chili, cornbread, nachos, salsa, guacamole, wings, brownies and beer. To name a few. Food, friends and football – I can’t think of anything better on Sunday afternoons. When it’s too cold to spend hours wandering outside, you can gather with friends and cheer or lament together. Every year I look forward to the Super Bowl, but there’s always a hint of sadness behind it. With Super Bowl over, it’s goodbye to the football season – until next fall. And I’m not very good at saying goodbyes. I’m awkward and I suffer from separation anxiety.

I’m also terrible with trying to choose. Like with these wings, I had a terrible dilemma on which to write up – teriyaki or honey-mustard? And in the end I decided, why not both? I had to give you two recipes because trying to choose between the two was like choosing a favorite child. Not that I have any to draw on the experience, but I imagine it must be very tough. Or, I should hope it’s tough anyway. Besides, I’m a girl who loves her wings. I could sit by myself quite contentedly snacking on wings and beer all night long. And because I like you all very much, and want you to have fantastic Super Bowl parties, I wanted to make sure you had options. Though, I’ve got to be honest with you – the way to go here, is to make both. It only sounds over-the-top, but have you ever been to a party where there are leftover wings at the end of the night? I didn’t think so.

Continue reading wings: honey-mustard wings & teriyaki wings.

I feel like I’ve fallen so behind in blogging about items cooked, that I’m a bit at a loss where to start. Do I go back to the last picture NOT blogged about and start in chronological order or do I reverse the order and go back in time? I certainly spend a lot of time thinking about cooking and looking up and concocting recipes, but when it comes to photo editing, discarding, uploading, tagging, naming, describing, and last, but certainly not least, trying to write up a vignette interesting enough for you to read through and not fast forward to the pictures and the recipe – I feel that I fall so far behind, it all takes up so much time, that I’m just barely getting to it all between the cooking and the cleaning and the job. And sometimes food related incidents occur when there’s NO cooking involved whatsoever. Or rather, cooking happens as an afterthought, a side note.

Take, for example, our most recent acquisition of the FoodSaver. We (meaning KS) first got wind of it while in Salem, Massachusetts while visiting friends and my parents. We ogled the shrink-wrapped buffalo wings as if it were the world’s 8th wonder before we devoured them in silence. And when KS claimed he would buy it, I mused and dismissed it as a conversation starter. It wasn’t until we were putting the item into our cart at the ever-so-claustrophobic BedBath&Beyond, that I realized we don’t just talk about buying kitchen appliances together – we actually do buy them. And you know it’s serious when a couple purchases communal kitchen appliances. KitchenAid hand mixer. FoodSaver. Wutshof knives.

So back at home, KS was off last week. And periodically, I’d ring him from work and say hello. And he’d tell me things like “Honey, I shrink wrapped the butter.”

“But wasn’t it already in a card board box?”
“Yeah, but I needed to practice on something.”
”So you picked butter?”
”Uh-huh, and it’s awesome! I’m looking for something else to practice on.”

It was nice to see him put his vacation time to such good use. And now, you should just look at him, he’s a FoodSaver pro!

So when we were thinking about other items to seal, we thought of making spicy baked buffalo wings, and marinade them overnight. This would be a prime opportunity to vacuum seal our wings for 24 hours and let them hang out in a spicy sauce sans oxygen. I’m not sure, if this is actually more effective than letting things sit in a plain Ziploc bag, but after we took the wings out and roasted them, the results was undeniably finger-licking good. We ate our wings in silence, and chased them with an English ale. It was perfection beyond words and we had an electrical contraption to thank for it. So you see, cooking this time came as a peripheral, as an afterthought. But in the end, it all worked out, so perhaps it’s for the best that way, sometimes.

Continue reading honey barbecue chicken wings.