How a cyber security bloke ended up with a wing trailer

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About fifteen years ago I was working for a cyber security company, which meant a lot of time on planes and a lot of nights in American cities I did not know. That is where I met my mate Phil Dangio. Over four years we ran a completely pointless and fiercely competitive contest: find the diviest dive bar in every city we landed in. One rule, it had to sell Buffalo wings. Phil won it by a mile with the Double Down Saloon in Las Vegas. Absolute dump, and I mean that as a compliment. The one thing the Americans genuinely do better than us is bar food, and the Buffalo wings are the bit that stuck.

After more than twenty years in cyber security I had had enough of it. The industry had got a bit toxic for me. So I did what some people would call a midlife crisis and I call a very good idea, and, working on my favourite principle that it is easier to ask forgiveness than permission, I bought a food trailer. I could have served a bit of everything. Instead I picked one thing and set out to do it better than anybody else in this country. Chicken wings. Everything else on the menu is there to keep the wings company.

Whole wings from Reeves Butchers in Yateley, about twenty minutes down the road. Dry-brined with salt and my own rub and then left to sit, because salt pulls the moisture out of the skin and water is the enemy of crisp. No batter, no flour, no coating. Oven-cooked gently first, then finished in rapeseed oil, which is where the skin goes properly crisp. Every sauce is made by me and every one is served on the side, because sauce is wet and crisp skin is not. And every week I change something. The rub, the resting time, the fry, a new sauce. Some of it is better and some of it goes in the bin. The aim is the best chicken wings in the UK, and until I get there I will just keep wingin' it.