To Every Season Turn, Return


The Poppycakes live in Ohio. This means that we have been pummeled with the meat tenderizer of political ads. We are ready to end it all--the election season that is. It reminds me of the writers' conference I attend nearly annually. I look forward to it  all year but when it actually arrives, I am really into it for about a day or day and half and then I am wiped-out from all that energy, all that opining. 

Tonight we're going to settle in for warmth and cozy and some Indian-Spiced Roasted Chicken, nan bread, a side of yogurt and  an intended cucumber salad. (The cukes didn't find their way to Poppycakesville so we settled for a simple spinach salad with the final garden tomatoes.) 

No photographs of the dish but imagine a whole chicken roasted in my fabulous saffron roasting pan and doused with a marinade  of  yogurt, garam masala, lime juice, curry paste and a teaspoon of sugar. I coated the outside of the bird, lifted the flesh away a little and slipped the marinade under the skin and in the body cavity. It smelled heavenly while cooking and made a wonderful spicy way to cozy in and watch the election results.

The Poppycakes have decided this will be a repeated winter dish.