Crispy Grilled Wings

Mid-August. Post-birthday quiet. The shiso on the balcony is at its peak, and I spend mornings harvesting leaves for the blog recipe of the week: shiso chimichurri, my fusion invention, shiso leaves replacing parsley, with garlic, olive oil, rice vinegar, and red pepper flakes. The chimichurri is bright and herbaceous and not Japanese and not Argentine and entirely mine, a recipe from the country I have invented, the country of neither-and-both, the country where shiso meets chimichurri and the meeting produces something that could not exist anywhere else.

I wrote a blog post about the chimichurri — about how "fusion" is a word that gets used to diminish, as if combining traditions is diluting them, when in fact combining traditions is the most honest thing a mixed-race cook can do. The post was read by twenty-two thousand people, the highest single-post readership I've ever had. The word "fusion" struck a nerve. The nerve is the same one that runs through the book: the nerve of the in-between, the neither-and-both, the woman standing in two kitchens at once.

The literary agent Sarah called with an update on the book's editorial progress. The revisions are done. The manuscript is moving to copyediting. The publication timeline is tracking for next year, maybe the year after — publishers move slowly, the way kuromame moves slowly, the way everything worth making moves slowly. I am patient. The patience is earned. Seven years of weekly blog posts have taught me that the work that matters happens in increments, not in explosions, and the increments accumulate, and the accumulation is the career.

Miya went to Brian's for the end of summer. I used the quiet to write — the second book, the two-kitchens book, the book that is forming the way homemade miso forms: in the dark, slowly, with faith that the fermentation will produce something extraordinary. The faith is the practice. The practice is the writing. The writing happens at the small table, in the quiet apartment, in the light that comes through the kitchen window, which is the same light that comes through every kitchen window, which is the light that Fumiko cooked in and that I cook in and that Miya will cook in. The light is the constant. Everything else changes.

The week that post went out — the one about “fusion” and what the word really costs us — I needed something to do with my hands while the notifications kept coming in. I had shiso chimichurri already made, sitting in a jar in the refrigerator, more than I could possibly spoon over rice or tuck into onigiri, and I wanted something that could hold up to it, something crispy and sturdy enough to carry all that brightness without disappearing underneath it. Crispy grilled wings were the answer: unpretentious, a little messy, the kind of food that doesn’t ask you to explain your heritage before you eat it. This is what I served myself the night the numbers climbed past twenty thousand, standing at the kitchen counter, watching the balcony shiso move in the August air.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

2 lbs chicken wings, split at the joint, tips removed
1 tbsp baking powder
1 tsp kosher salt
1/2 tsp black pepper
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp smoked paprika
1 tbsp neutral oil (such as avocado or grapeseed)
For the shiso chimichurri:
1 cup fresh shiso leaves, tightly packed
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 cup olive oil
2 tbsp rice vinegar
1/2 tsp red pepper flakes
1/4 tsp kosher salt

Instructions

Dry the wings. Pat chicken wings thoroughly dry with paper towels. This step is essential for crispiness — do not skip it.
Season. In a large bowl, toss wings with baking powder, salt, pepper, garlic powder, smoked paprika, and oil until evenly coated. The baking powder draws out surface moisture and promotes browning on the grill.
Rest. Let seasoned wings sit uncovered at room temperature for 15 minutes while you preheat the grill to medium-high (around 400°F).
Grill. Place wings on the grill grates over indirect heat. Close the lid and cook for 20 minutes, flipping once halfway through. Then move wings to direct heat and grill 10 to 15 minutes more, turning frequently, until skin is deeply golden and crisp and internal temperature reads 165°F.
Make the shiso chimichurri. While wings grill, combine shiso leaves, garlic, olive oil, rice vinegar, red pepper flakes, and salt in a small food processor. Pulse until the shiso is finely chopped but the sauce still has texture — it should not be completely smooth. Taste and adjust seasoning.
Serve. Arrange wings on a platter and spoon shiso chimichurri generously over the top, or serve the sauce alongside for dipping. The sauce is bright and herbaceous and entirely its own thing. That’s the point.

Nutrition (per serving)

Crispy Grilled Wings — The Sauce That Struck a Nerve