When it comes to barbecue, many folks are passionate about it — like, super passionate.
There are allegiances to mustard, ketchup or vinegar. There are sworn alliances to dry ribs versus wet rubs. And there are certainly restaurant hills that folks will die on.
When it comes to me, I am not in any of those camps. And that is because I love all kinds of barbecue and will happily try any new place I can.
Recently, my brother-in-law gave me a book by a guy who clearly thinks like me. In Going Whole Hog, James Roller documents his journey through South Carolina barbecue, spending years at barbecue joints across the Palmetto State. He documents the history of barbecue, including some of its more complicated past. But most importantly, he shares recipes from some of the gold-star favorites to be found around the state. It’s a mouth watering journey though plenty of places I’ve been, and a whole bunch of places I can’t wait to visit.
But one of the recipes really jumped out at us: Home Team Barbecue’s Smoked Chicken Wings.
It’s a favorite in our household because, well, they are amazing.
I decided one weekend that my goal would be to replicate the wings. And that would be no small feat. I knew this, because years ago I had tried to replicate their mac and cheese, and it took me the better part of a day and a substantial grocery bill, and I still only came close. But I would not be deterred.
Now, normally when I make chicken wings, I throw them in a pan, pitch ’em in the oven, and about a half hour later, boom — perfectly average wings that are, well, fine I guess.
I was not going for fine.
As I read through the recipe, I realized that much like the mac and cheese, this was gonna take some effort. Wow, what a shock — it’s almost like professional barbecue chefs are really good at what they do.
I started on Saturday preparing a brine, something I assure you I have never done. And at one point I said to my wife, “So it calls for a bunch of thyme. Does that mean a lot?” Apparently a bunch is, well, it’s how you get thyme.
After taking much longer than I’m guessing professional pit masters do, I had a brine and was ready to soak the chicken wings.
The next day, I got to more prepping. I made the dry rub that the recipe called for. I made the Alabama white sauce. I even patted the chicken dry like a good little junior chef.
I fired up my smoker and slid the tray of wings in to be smoked for two and a half hours. And that was just another step on the road to barbecue goodness.
Once they had fully smoked, it was time to bust out the deep fryer. The recipe called for peanut oil. I had some regular vegetable oil and thought, “Eh, I can just use this.” And then a loud inner voice said, “NO! You follow those directions!” Yes, inner voice.
I got some peanut oil and heated it. And then dropped the wings for the prescribed amount of time.
Once I had a couple of dozen wings done, I realized I had done the easy part. Now for the hard part — the taste test. I plated some, with a side of the white sauce. My wife, son and some neighbors who are also big barbecue enthusiasts, agreed to be my tasters. I waited as they tried their wings. And the reaction was unanimous — nailed it. An exact match. My son described them as “immaculate.” Victory.
I was happy to be able to pull off the wings, but admittedly will lean on Home Team to do their thing next time I’m craving wings. But thanks to Roller’s book, I will definitely be trying my hand at some new recipes and find some new restaurants to venture to. I highly recommend you check out the book for the barbecue lover in your life. Whatever camp you reside in, you will find your preference.
