I forget that many of you don't know me, but if you did, you'd probably be asking yourself right about now, chicken wings? Really? She finally decides to put together this blog, and the first post is on how to make chicken wings. It's a slightly odd choice, as I was a vegetarian for 6 years, and have just recently started to make meals that contain meat. Besides having little interest in cooking meat (until recently), it also always seemed like quite a chore. Cooking meat is a bit intimidating, as you don't want to undercook it. I'm an amateur carnivore. Until recently I stuck primarily to leafy greens, and whole grains, all relatively easy to cook. I wikipedia'd all the diseases you can get from eating raw meat, my advice to you, don't follow suit, just trust me on this one, and allow yourself to be slight neurotic if you too are a novice meat cooker. As I learn the ins and outs, I rely heavily on my roommates to offer advice whenever possible, namely my boyfriend, Jamie. He rarely cooks, mainly because I enjoy the task of meal preparing so much.    I am 100% okay with this fact, as it means one less person in our tiny counterless kitchen. So picture this, I'm in the kitchen whipping up chicken wings, Jamie is in the living room relaxing after a eventful weekend spent at a Phish show. The timer on the oven keeps going off, this annoying alarm that just doesn't quit. I'm scurrying around, trying my darndest not to burn the $10 organic chicken wings I just splurged on at the co-op. "Jaaaaaaamie, can you come look at these and tell me if you think they're done." A funny request, as he probably is as unsure as I am about the cooking of chicken. But he humors me, as he always does, and comes into the kitchen to check out the chicken wing situation. We stand there poking them for a few, "probably a few more seconds" he says. 


Herbed Grilled Chicken Wings adapted from Bon Appetit 
Serves 4 or 1 hungry male and his girlfriend with lots of leftovers

4 garlic cloves
1/4 cup chopped fresh Oregano
1/4 cup chopped fresh rosemary
1/4 cup olive oil
salt and pepper
2 lb. chicken wings

1. Combine garlic, organo, rosemary, and oil in a large bowl; season with salt and pepper. Add chicken wings, and toss to coat. Chill for at least 1 hour.

* Please take note, I don't have a grill therefore I rely heavily on my broiler to do the work. I think the wings would be best grilled, but to make it easier for everyone, I have included directions for both scenarios. 

*Broiling and grilling both use intense direct heat to cook food. A grill will maintain a constant temperature, but when an oven reaches 500-550 degrees F, the flame will turn off and the food will cook in its own steam. To avoid this, try propping your broiler door open as the meat is cooking. 

2. If grilling: Prepare grill for medium heat. Remove wings from marinade and grill, covered and turning occasionally, until golden brown and crisp, 15-20 minutes. 
    If broiling: Preheat broiler. I usually let it run for 8-10 minutes before I put anything in as you want the surface to be hot enough to sear the meat. Make sure to cover your broiler pan with alluminum foil to catch all the juices and oil. I set my oven timer for 6 minutes, and then turned the wings. Then let them broil for another 4 minutes. Since I am new to this, It's a bit touch-and-go, as I am always worried about burning the meat. Also, each oven is different, so see the above times as recommendations, be sure to keep an eye on the wings as they cook. 

Homemade Ranch Dippin' Sauce
1/2 cup greek yogurt
3 T mayo
1/3 cup buttermilk
1 teaspoon dijon
11/2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon chives

1. Combine all ingredients in a bowl, whisk together. Chill in fridge until ready to use. 

This is my first post. I've been hemming and hawing about creating this blog for quite some time now. It's been a bit daunting, like if I spend all this time creating it, I suddenly am committed. Committed to all of you out there, committed to posting on a somewhat regular basis. The thought of that is a bit overwhelming as it's just in my nature to become bored over time, which is when I would normally move on to my next project. I am creating this blog so I can document what I am passionate about, but also to commit myself, or at least learn how to follow through. Plus, I recently took hostage of my dear mother's awesome Canon EOS 60D camera (which takes much better pictures of my creations than my dang iPhone). 

I have endless recipes and photos to share with you, but it only seems appropriate to begin this cyber relationship with a proper introduction. Where oh where to begin. My name is Shiel, no, it's not short for anything (like Shiela). I'm twenty-four years old, turning twenty-five in September, eeek! I currently live in Burlington, Vermont with a group of lovely individuals, friends that have become family. I was born and raised in Vermont. My parents on the other hand are transplants, my mother coming from New York and my pa from Massachusetts. They built our house from the ground-up, real back-to-the-land type of folks. My dad dug our well by hand, my mom routinely did the daily farm chores with either my sister or I attached to her back. Pretty wild. 

 I could probably write pages about my childhood up until now. But as not to get too off course, lets stick with how I got here. I grew up eating straight out of my parent's garden. They also raised goats, sheep, pigs, and chickens. The connection between farm and table was one that I made at an early age, even if I wasn't consciously aware of it. Menu's in my house were dictated by what was ready to harvest. Okay, you're probably rolling your eyes at this point. A little too hippy dippy for your taste, but seriously, it's the truth. I was a well-fed child. 

Fast forward 10 years, I'm around the age of 18. I graduate from high school, all ready to head out into the big world, move away to college, begin my life. I spend 6 months living in New York City, majoring in Nursing, and I suddenly hit a brick wall. I hate sitting in a classroom, I hate how stuffy everything is, I miss the quiet of Vermont, the greenery. I move back. A bit lost, a bit disheveled in mind. To keep sane, I find a job, just so happens to be at a local bakery. At this point, I have no baking experience, no real cooking experience either. Just a desire to distract myself from the ever impending feeling of failure. Okay, so it probably wasn't that bad. You must remember though, I was a mere 18 years old, who had just barely completed one semester of college. So there I was, baking away, getting lost amidst the sugar and flour and copious amounts of butter. I spent my entire summer there, throwing myself into the work like a madwoman. Who knew I would find my calling while rolling rugelach and piping pate a choux. Certainly not me, but there I was, suffering the summer heat alongside an old grouchy chef, happy as a clam. 

There are of course many stories that will surface, offer more insight into the years in between. But lets stick with that for now. 

And so it begins.