Graveyard Chicken Wings

At 5:00 a.m. preheat grill to medium. Spray PAM on grill and directly over heat, lay out 15 to 20 wing drummettes. Grill over direct heat, turning occasionally, for 15 minutes. Slide off to the side, away from direct heat and continue to grill another 20 minutes, turning occasionally. Baste fully with Italian dressing or BBQ sauce and place back over direct heat, turning till somewhat crisp.

Remove to aluminum bread pan and wrap pan in foil.

Heat two cans of new potatoes in pot on stove, remove to another aluminum bread pan and wrap pan in foil.

Place both in cooler with no ice and transport to graveyard. After you've finished your graveyard work, under an appropriate shade tree, heat your small portable grill and place both pans on grill till warm.

Part of this project was to straighten a few busted markers; but, primarily it was to ceremonially burn seven tattered flags in a proper and respectful disposal method.


  • 6 Comments sorted by Votes Date Added
  • As Paul Harvey would say, "The rest of the story".

    There has to be some background for the name of this mouth watering delicacy. Please share!!!
  • Nothing other than the last sentence of the post. They didn't have a name until that occured to me on about wing number four leaned up against a freshly cleaned 140 year old tombstone, watching flag number five turn to ashes.

  • I like your approach. You set up a mission, carefully planned out for the day, and you make it happen. A day's work topped of with a culinary specialty in tune with self and nature. That makes it NOT like work at all, but an inner and satisfying excursion.

    Our local hardware store has a 'booth' set up with a deposit box for flag disposal. Your method is better.

    P.S. I might try your recipe, but I doubt I'll have it in a graveyard.
  • If you have never personally, properly disposed of a flag, it's a good experience. It becomes even more meaningful when you are the one to dispose of your own flag, one that you've had for years. It brings on chill bumps that I reckon I can't describe. But, you'll know them when you feel them.

  • Speaking of chill bumps, I saw a burial ceremony at Arlington National last Friday. I have never experienced anything remotely close. When I saw the riderless black horse and the boots turned backwards in the stirrups I cried. My daughter, who just turned nine almost got it. My son, unfortunately, was more interested in the burial detail and their rifles.

    Not to hijack the thread, but I also learned something interesting from an Arlington historian. I had always understood the significance of the ridelrless black horse to mean that the rider had ridden his last ride. What I learned last week, however, was that actually, during battle, if the soldier was killed, they would put his boots in the stirrups backwards and whack the horse to make him run. He would find his way back to their post where the signal would be received that they needed to send a replacement.
  • I remember watching every second of JFK's funeral and how mesmerized I was, as a young boy, by those ceremonial things. Those drums rang in my head for years. I still love to see short clips of that on the specials.

    Graveyards are special places. Not morbid. A friend and I have spent countless hours in graveyards whitening stones, straightening busted ones, saluting the fallen, wondering how they all died alphabetically, wishing the man on the riding mower would be more careful. Two weeks ago I sodded the graves of two relatives and checked on the Sunday. Lookin' good. Everybody deserves to have grass growing on his grave. And most distressing of all is the number of graves without markers, just the gray metal spike with a five year old faded name tag. I hate that.

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