Jackson Free Press

Growing up, the only experience I had with chicken wings were the ones covered with feathers belonging to the small population of egg-laying hens on our Montana farm. Raised in incubators, these chickens were more than egg producers: they were a part of our family.

Through the dead of winter, when the wind chill sent the temperature to -20, my brother and I would trudge out to the tiny chicken pen, shovel away the two feet of snow and gather eggs from underneath warm chickens.

Once in a while, we raised chickens for eating. Fed on grain and fresh bugs from our two-acre farm, they were meaty; their wings were like thighs on factory chickens. We never cooked the wings by themselves, however, and certainly never dipped them in any type of hot sauce (unless you count the time I ruined an entire pot of chicken soup by using several red chili peppers).

Another reason for my inexperience with chicken wings may be the fact that my dad practically never watched football. Football season, probably the time of highest chicken-wing consumption, wasn't a season in our family. I remember watching one Superbowl: Just as I was really getting interested in tackles and touchdowns, we had to leave for a church get-together.

After coming to the South, I soon realized that I was going to be exposed, very exposed, to football, chips and dip, and … buffalo wings.

After doing a little Googling, I learned the answer to the question burning in everyone's mind: Why are they called buffalo wings? The answer is that they were originally invented in Buffalo, N.Y.

Late in October 1964, owner Teressa Bellissimo was working late one night at the Anchor Bar when her son and his hungry friends showed up. All she had on hand were chicken wings, so she fried them up, dipped them in butter and chili sauce, and served them with celery and blue cheese dressing. They were a hit. Today, the Anchor Bar serves more than 70,000 pounds of chicken wings a month, and almost every American restaurant has some version of chicken wings on the menu. Buffalo even celebrates "Chicken Wing Day" every year on July 29.

Despite all the options out there, when my boyfriend and I pick up some wings to eat on a Saturday night, we can have criticisms: not saucy enough, too dry, need to be hotter.

One night, not wanting another disappointing wing run, we decided to make our own.

Being the health nut in the relationship, I bought some "all-organic," "grain-fed" chicken wings at the farmer's market. I also opted for not frying the wings, which is probably sacrilegious. But hey, I'm thinking about those arteries. We baked the wings with salt and pepper until they were cooked throughout. Then, we ladled our homemade sauce over them about four times, returning them to the oven each time to brown.

During my research, I found out that you are supposed to serve chicken wings with a dairy-based dressing and celery, which help you handle the heat. We served our wings with cornbread and salad—it's all about personal taste and expression.

Our recipe is a coagulation of several different versions, with our own adaptations thrown in. There are many different variations of sauces out there, enough to fit any personal preference.