There is a recipe at the bottom, I promise! I just have a lifelong attachment to wings so please bear with!  The key to a successful relationship? Wings. On about our 6th date, we went to a place in Liverpool called ‘Free State Kitchen’ and they do the best wings ever. They dip them in some kind of batter which is SO crispy. Then they dredge them in a piquant, buttery hot sauce and serve with a light blue cheese dip and celery. I knew at that point, when Niall told me I had hot sauce on my cheek and I told him he had it on his nose, that we’d be together for a long time. That day he became my wingman. Not in a romantic way, I just need a guy who likes wings as much as I do and who’ll eat them with me. 

Finding the best wings in Liverpool is something I have to say with a heavy heart (having been born on the North American continent). My preschool teacher pulled my mum aside one day because she was a little concerned about me saying my favourite food was ‘BONES’. My mum just laughed and reassured her that I simply had a penchant for my dad’s ribs and wings. 

I have previously given my father terrible reviews for his cooking. However, being the good patriarch that he is, the man knows how to cook ‘bones’. People come far and wide for his barbecues of wings, ribs, chops and steaks. Now this comes with a feminist footnote: it is disgraceful that we women had to be on ‘salad duty’ while the man ‘make fire/cook meat’. But at least now I can make great salads, sides and ‘make fire’- talk about emancipation! It’s like being allowed to work full time and clean the house. ‘Yey!’ I think.

Last night, I bought a little barbecue, some wings and we were ready to go. The only issue is- we’ve both quit smoking and putting together a barbecue would test the patience of a saint. Not my proudest moment, but my nerves were shot and after dropping a screw and listening to it slide around in the bbq bowl for the 400th time- I kicked a kitchen cabinet. I have a bruise on my toe but this morning I feel like the worst of the withdrawal is over! 

Also, really annoyingly, there’s a ‘toxic smog’ blowing over Liverpoool this weekend from Europe. So after being an absolute ANGEL not smoking on a Friday night, I’ve still woken up feeling like I’ve smoked a packet of Marlborough lights. 

It might not very ‘ladylike’ talking about smoking, wings, barbecues and toxic smog but some days I don’t feel like the girls who take pictures of their laptops, next to a bunch of peonys, entitled ‘working’. Working my arse! 

BBQ hot wings

• Frank’s hot sauce or some equivalent (get two bottles actually)
• 25g butter
• Chicken wings
• 100g of Rouqefort cheese 
• 150ml sour cream
• White wine vinegar (3 tbsp)
• Celery sticks to serve 

1. Preheat oven at 190c
2. Mix the wings in a bowl with the hot sauce (I think singing Beyoncé’s ‘Formation’ while you do this is really important)
3. Line a big baking tray with foil and lay all the wings flat- pour over leftover sauce. 
4. In the words of my father “roast the shit out of them”. Turn occasionally and pour some more sauce on occasionally (we left them in for 40 mins to an hour last night)
5. BBQ the chicken turning occasionally. Remember, you are the king of the BBQ when you have the honour of saying that that coals are ‘ready’. And if you say the line ‘the meat will turn when it’s ready’ then you will be a man my son.
6. Mash up the blue cheese, stir in the vinegar and sour cream. 
7. Drizzle melted butter and hotsauce over the wings and enjoy!

They were delicious, not as good as ‘Free State Kitchen’s’ but still good. Kind of like having a child that’s okay and you love because it’s your own but you’re still fully aware that your friend’s child is prettier, smarter and more refined than yours.