I’ve had a mantra for most of my life (or call it a battle cry), and it goes something like this: “Look out, I’m from Western New York.”

Now, I don’t mean this in the same way someone, for example, might say, “Look out, I’m from the Hell’s Angels.” I mean it more as a way of letting people know that I can drive in the snow, get my own car out of a snow bank, start a snow blower, and forget my gloves when it’s 2 degrees below zero and live to tell about it.

We’re just made from hardy stock around here. In fact, I don’t remember anyone in three or four generations ever having a mishap in the snow.

Nobody in my family, for instance, ever called home and said, “I’m stuck at the grocery store in a snowstorm and its possible I won’t be home for three or four days.” (Although it’s possible a few people might have said this from a tavern.)

My kids have been hearing this mantra their whole lives and I suppose by now it’s a source of ridicule.

“Yeah, yeah, we know. You’re from Buffalo,” they say. “You can drive in the snow and make good chicken wings. We get it!”

You’ve got to get your self-esteem from somewhere.

But they’d hate it when growing up in Massachusetts, I’d give instructions to the waiter to give to the cook about how chicken wings should be made. And after my wing instructional ended, I’d wrap it up with an apology: “Sorry, but I’m from Buffalo and I just want good wings.”

If a waiter in another state asked me if I preferred ranch or blue cheese with my wings, I’d have an imaginary heart attack.

“Are you serious?” I’d ask, clutching my chest. “Under no circumstances should you serve ranch dressing with chicken wings. That’s not how it’s done.”

Of course, everyone in my family would be crawling under the table by then.

“Mom, like calm down. They’re just chicken wings.”

“What do you mean they’re just chicken wings?” I’d say. “Don’t you see what’s happening? People are breading them now and serving them boneless. We have to be a voice for authentic chicken wings. We have a duty to protect our heritage.”

We used to drive 30 miles just to get decent chicken wings and even after a decade, I was still arguing with the owner of this Massachusetts restaurant about how awful his blue cheese was.

“It’s too chunky,” I’d tell him. “It has to be smooth so you can dip your wing in.”

I was probably just as obnoxious about snow. If a friend told me she wasn’t going to make an event or an outing because of an inch or two of snow, I’d be incredulous.

“Listen,” I’d tell her. “I’ll pick you up. I’m from Buffalo. I can drive in this.”

My mother just reminded me the other day that my father once got pulled over on our way to Jamestown on Christmas Day because the weather was not fit for man or beast.

“You’re going to have to turn around, sir,” the policeman said.

I’m not sure how my dad talked him into letting us drive on, but honestly, it was probably because the trooper was talking to a fellow Buffalonian. If you can trust anyone in a snow storm, someone from Western New York would be a good bet, even if there was a slight chance no one would ever hear from us again.

I once thought about running a Western New York consulting business. I figured people could call me up and ask me about things, like how long to leave chicken wings in the fryer or how to get out of a skid on a slippery road.

The truth is, I’m really proud of my Western New York heritage. None of us spent our entire lives hanging around a dock in Bermuda shorts, sipping martinis and expecting everyone to wait on us.

We’ve spent a good chunk of our lives shoveling snow, walking to school in the winter without calling it child abuse, and snow plowing our way to work.

I really believe this kind of upbringing has served me well in my life. Hardy folks don’t expect the world — or the weather — to bend to their will. That’s a job for people in Florida.

Nope, we take the weather here for whatever it is — the good, the bad and the ugly. We can handle it.

But chicken wings? There’s only one way to make those. And if you’re at all confused about it, I’d be happy to set you straight.