Kim Chee to the Rescue, Again!

It was Super Bowl Sunday, and things were not going well.

A few evenings earlier, I had awoken in the middle of the night with one of those sneezes that tells you immediately a cold is imminent.

We had friends for dinner Friday night, and despite feeling a bit under the weather, I cooked and ate and drank and toasted and laughed. And then went to bed. And didn’t sleep a wink — the entire night.

My medicine

My medicine

I got up, jittery, tired and sick. And went for a run. When I got home, I showered, took a Benadryl, climbed back in bed. And slept for four hours. When I woke, I felt wildly out of sorts — even sleepier than I had been, my vision skewed, my depth perception practically non existent. More

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The American Series, Pt. V — Buffalo Chicken Wings

In the sacred domain of Sunday sports, the holiest day of them all is Super Bowl Sunday. And if there is a culinary sacrament most cherished by its practitioners, it would be the Buffalo wing.

Buffalos don’t have wings. But chickens do, and the story goes that a guy with a bar in Buffalo, New York stumbled upon the fabled recipe while either trying to stimulate his patrons to buy more drinks, or trying to use up a mistaken delivery of chicken wings. Whatever the truth, we say thank you.

You could veer from tradition and try this recipe with Tabasco or some other spicy red sauce rather than Frank’s Red Hot (available online or in most well-stocked grocery stores); you could use margarine or olive oil rather than butter, or bake your wings instead of frying them. People do all sorts of crazy things in life. More