Chaz Brown has dreams. Strange ones — sort of like the dreams Kevin Spacey’s character had in “American Beauty,” except that instead of rose petals hovering in the air, Mr. Brown has visions of ethereal flocks of crispy chicken wings. “I’ve definitely seen wings flying out of people’s heads,” he said.

And why wouldn’t he? Mr. Brown, a 32-year-old chef who trained under Georges Perrier at Le Bec-Fin in Philadelphia, works these days as the M.C. and mastermind behind Seoul Chicken, a Lower East Side hangout where pound after pound of chicken wings come sizzling out of the kitchen every night. Sichuan peppercorn and sea salt wings. Palm sugar and kalamansi wings. Gochujang Buffalo wings. Fish sauce and garlic wings.

For years now, American chefs have learned to scoff at the word “fusion,” a dated piece of nomenclature that calls to mind the watery mango salsas of the Benetton years. But the Asia-meets-Dixie menu at Seoul Chicken proves that fusion is alive and well, even if it has put on a clever new costume. For Mr. Brown, a humble, eight-buck plate of chicken wings can be the mannequin for an infinite number of cross-cultural wardrobe changes.

Mr. Brown is not merely the latest example of a toque who has chosen to apply high-toned technique to lowbrow food. He’s at the forefront of a chicken-wing boom in New York and elsewhere, as a cheap bar snack evolves into a culinary obsession.