I Tried Martha Stewart’s Baked Chicken Wings, and It Was All About the Silence

I Tried Martha Stewart’s Baked Chicken Wings, and It Was All About the Silence
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Martha Stewart Baked Chicken Wings
Leave a Comment on I Tried Martha Stewart’s Baked Chicken Wings, and It Was All About the Silence

these weren’t for a party.
not for game night.
not even for company.

just made them on a Wednesday.
because the oven was empty.
and I needed to smell something getting crisp.

What the Original Looked Like

Martha keeps it simple.
just wings, salt, and heat.
no marinades.
no fancy rubs.
no distractions.

she tells you to pat them dry, space them out, and bake them hot.
you flip them once.
you toss them after—if you want.

she leaves room for sauce.
but doesn’t insist.

What I Did Differently

I didn’t use a wire rack.
just parchment and an old sheet pan.

I added black pepper.
and a little garlic powder, because I was feeling reckless.

didn’t flip them at 25.
I flipped them when I remembered.
they still crisped.

The Way It Happened in My Kitchen

the wings came out of the fridge cold and damp.
I dried them with a dish towel I probably shouldn’t have used.
sprinkled coarse salt like it meant something.
added pepper.
garlic.
let them sit.

the oven went to 450°F.
I didn’t wait for the preheat.
just slid them in when I was ready.

they roasted quiet.
just the hiss of fat, the occasional pop.
I flipped them with tongs that still had barbecue on them from last weekend.

forty-five minutes.
golden.
blistered at the edges.
skin pulling back from the bones like it was letting go.

I tossed them in a bowl,
added hot sauce and a bit of melted butter.
shook them until they shined.

then I ate four standing over the sink.

A Few Things I Learned While They Baked

you don’t need sauce.
you don’t need a rack.
you don’t need a reason.

you just need the smell of something roasting,
and the sound of skin getting crisp.

What I Did With the Extras

put them in a container.
forgot about them.
Mae found them two days later and asked,
“were these for someone?”
I said no.
but maybe yes.

Would I Make It Again?

definitely.
on a night when I want to hear something crackle
and feel something simple
and not talk much.

That’s As Much As I Remember

the tray’s still in the sink.
the smell’s still in the kitchen.
and the last one I ate
was the one with the broken tip—
still perfect.

this reminded me of the wings we grilled by the lake that summer. no plates. no napkins. just hunger and smoke.

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