This arrived in my in-box courtesy of the fine folks at Splendid Table. It's truly scrumptious and so easy that it could be called Dummy Chicken.

The recipe comes from The Splendid Table's How to Eat Supper. I'm probably violating a copyright law by posting the recipe, but . . . . On the other hand, it's a short recipe, so maybe I'm not. (Fair use allows free use of limited text.)

Oven-Roasted Chicken Cacciatora

• 2.5 to 3 pounds of chicken thighs or chicken breast bone-in
• 1/3 c. pitted Kalamata olives
• 4 - 6 thin slices of cacciatore, Genoa, or hard salami, cut in 1-inch squares (I used Molinari brand.)
• large red or green pepper, cut into 1-inch pieces (original recipe calls for red; I had a green one on hand)
• 1 large fresh tomato or 3 drained canned ones, chopped coarse (I used an entire can; didn't want to waste it)
• 1 medium to large red onion, chopped coarse
• leaves from two 4-inch sprigs fresh rosemary (didn't have any; used dried)
• 10 fresh sage leaves, torn (ditto)
• 4 large garlic cloves, minced
• 1 t. fennel seeds, lightly crushed (or not, see my note in text below)
• 1/4 c. dry red wine
• 1/4 c. good olive oil (this is the time to use the GOOD stuff; bold and fruity is best)
• salt, pepper
• juice of one lemon (which I forgot)

Preheat oven to 400.

Note: Since I didn't have fresh herbs, I just chopped up the sage, rosemary, and fennel with the garlic. Made a nice paste, it did, which served its purpose deliciously.

Arrange the chicken on a large shallow pan. The original suggested a half-sheet pan, but I used my 3 quart, shallow, round enameled cast iron pot. 

Scatter all the other ingredients, except the lemon, over the chicken. Roast for 30 minutes. Baste with pan juices, turn the chicken pieces over, and roast another 10-15 minutes. NOTE: the timing is predicated on using thighs. I used breast meat and adjusted the timing accordingly. It's done when the meat temperature reaches 180. If you wanted "browned" chicken, turn on the broiler for a minute or two. Squeeze the lemon juice over all just before serving.

Swoon. Swoon again a couple of nights later when you eat the leftovers. (Put dish, covered, in a cold oven. Turn the temperature to, I dunno, 250? 300? Heat for fifteen or so minutes.)

I found this recipe in the New York Times. It's staggeringly delicious and so simple. The original recipe regards it as a stew, to be served in a bowl. In my opinion, it cries out for a dish of good rice. This freezes well, so don't worry about having too many leftovers.

I'm always paranoid that links will go dead, so I'm including the recipe here:

• 2 T. oil, olive or whatever
• medium onion, chopped
• 4 garlic cloves, minced
• 1-inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled and grated (I just chopped it)
• 1-1/2 t. garam masala (*)
• 1-1/2 t. curry powder
• jalapeno pepper, or other hot pepper, seeded and minced (or, if you're that kind of person, leave the seeds in)
• 4-5 c. vegetable broth (I used chicken)
• 2 pounds sweet potatoes, peeled, cut in 1/2 inch cubes (s. potatoes are the ORANGE ones)
• 1-1/2 c. dried lentils (I used basic brown ones)
• bay leaf
• pound of chard, ribs removed, leaves sliced thin
• 1 t. or more of kosher salt, ground pepper to taste
• 1/3 c. chopped cilantro
• grated zest of one lime
• juice of half a lime (I added the juice of the whole thing)
• 1/3 c. chopped almonds for garnish (optional; I opted out)
• 1/4 c. chopped scallions for garnish (I forgot them)

In a large saucepan (I used a large skillet), heat oil over medium heat. Add onion, saute until translucent. Add the garlic, ginger, garam masala, curry powder, and hot pepper. Cook, stirring, for a minute.

Stir in 4 c. of broth, the potatoes and lentils and bay leaf. Increase heat to high and bring to boil. Reduce heat to medium or lower, and simmer, partially covered, for 25 minutes. (If the lentils look too dry, add more broth.) Add chard, salt, and pepper, and continue cooking until the lentils are soft and chard is cooked.

Just before dishing, add the cilantro, lime zest and juice. Garnish with almonds and scallions. Or not.

* I make garam masala using the recipe in Julie Sahni's Classic Indian Cooking.

• 1.5 T. of black cardamom seeds
• 1.5 cinnamon sticks
• 1/2 T. whole cloves
• 1/8 c. black peppercorns
• 1/4 c. cumin seeds
• 1/4 c. coriander seeds

Crush the cinnamon sticks with a mallet or rolling pin (or the nearest hard-headed person you can find). Put all the spices in a small, heavy saute pan and roast them over high heat for a minute or two, until the scent fills the room! (Watch them. You don't want to burn them.) Grind the mixture. Store in an airtight container in a dry, cool spot.

And humbug.

No, I did not finish the manuscript. Not even close. Which, okay, I knew would be the case back in October. But I gave it a good shot. 

The new deadline date (chosen by my editor, who apparently has an absurd amount of faith in me) is June 1. Now that I think I can manage.

So what does this mean? Well, alas and alack, the book won't come out in 2011. Which means, ugh, it will come out during an election year, which is precisely what I was trying to avoid.

(Because elections function as media sponges, absorbing every. last. bit. of media attention there is to be had. Leaving people like me out in the cold. Which, okay, is where I'd be anyway because I'm neither Famous nor Important so my books, which are neither Sexy, nor Groovy, and contain neither sex nor vampires, get little attention.)

But I'm one of those stupidly optimistic people for whom hope springs eternal, so hey, I'm gonna give all this my best shot. My 150%, all-in, all-out, pedal-to-the-metal shot at both a June 1 completion and a reasonably successful publishing experience. (Do me a favor: don't ask me to define a "reasonably successful" publishing experience. The reality is too damn depressing.)

So. I'm going to post some recipes (been cookin' up a stormy heaven in my new kitchen), and then create another hiatus post in which I shall bid you, dear friends, farewell for another six months.

And yes, I have missed blogging to an extent that I'm embarrassed to admit.