It’s not too early in the year for buffalo, is it?
(THIS IS WHERE YOU SAY “NEVER.”)
It’s a buffalo chicken twist, you guys. And it is a bloomin’ game-day show stopper.
And EASY. And you get to shred a rotisserie chicken so there’s therapy involved.
And buffalo sauce.
So awwwwl yew gonna do is shred that rotis, and add 2/3 cup buffalo sauce + 2 Tbs melted butter to it. I forgot to photograph the melted butter because it’s negative 80 hundred degrees outside and my brain isn’t functioning at its normal capacity.
Then! And this is where it gets fun. If you like playing with wiggly raw dough, that is.
Take the two refrigerated French bread tubes and score them down the center (lengthwise) with a paring knife. Then with your fingers, sort of press the dough out until you get a 4-inch well. Is this making you uncomfortable? Good.
Now! You have two choices in life. You can either sprinkle a bit of the shredded cheddar in the wells, or go ahead and fill it the buffalo chicken. EITHER way is great. I forgot to do the cheese first, because *see above.
In goes the chicken, then the thinly sliced red onion, and the CHAYSE. At this point, don’t be alarmed, but your inner soul fairies may do the Electric Slide and cause glee bubbles to surface up to your pores. Might feel a little weird.
Theeeen take the dough and stretch it up and piiiiiinch pinch pinch it all together. Like sewing! But with your fingers and not thread. And dough and not fabric. So exactly like sewing.
And it may look like a c-section scar gone wrong right now, but you’re about to flip it seamside down and NO ONE WILL KNOW YOU SUCK AT PINCHING.
Twist those stuffed dough logs over each other like love bird caterpillars, brush it with an egg wash, and take the knife and give it little vent slits on the top. Slit slit slit.
ARE YOU SEEING THAT?
You can slice it on the thinner side and serve it to a crowd on a platter with carrot and celery sticks, and RANCH. Always with the ranch. I know. I’ll never quit it.
OR! If your crowd is smaller, just cut the twist into dinner servings and snarf it down at a shameful speed. No one is looking.
Game day, BAE. (<–sorry.)