I found this recipe on Diabetes Forecast, which is an online ‘Healthy Living Magazine.
I made a few changes as I cook for 2, not 4, and I added a few things, including the butternut squash. I should point out that our chickens are smaller than the ones found in the U.S. – I couldn’t believe the size of a boneless chicken breast the last time I was there!
I would have tossed a potato into the mix as well, but my baking tray wasn’t big enough.
Chicken and Butternut Squash with Lemon and Za’atar
Total time: 45 minutes minutes plus marinating time
- 3 chicken thighs
- 3 chicken legs
- 8oz (240gr) butternut squash, sliced
- 3 small onions, quartered
- 3 cloves garlic, smashed lightly
- 1/2 tsp za’atar
- juice of 1 lemon, 1/4 cup (2oz, 60ml)
- 1 tbs olive oil
- 1 tbs dried parsley
- 1 tsp za’atar
- 1/2 tsp paprika
- 1/2 tsp sumac
- 1/4 tsp cinnamon
- 1/4 tsp powdered ginger
- 1/4 tsp celery salt
- Put chicken, onions and garlic in a bowl or dish to marinate
- Mix all ingredients for marinade and spoon over chicken. Stir / turn to coat.
- Cover and marinate in the fridge for at least 2 hours, turning once or twice.
- To cook:
- Remove the chicken and lay skin side down on a baking sheet
- Add butternut squash to bowl and stir to coat with marinade.
- Spoon / arrange vegetables around the chicken.
- Pour any remaining marinade over all.
- Roast in pre-heated oven 400F (200C) for 15 minutes.
- Remove, turn chicken and vegetables.
- Sprinkle with remaining 1/2 tsp za’atar.
- Return to oven and roast 15 minutes longer
- Remove and serve.
Waiting is not what I do best….. But I got to practice on Wednesday.
After they dismissed me from the exam center we headed home. We passed a McDo’s, thought about it for a second and decided to skip the Big Mac and have lunch at home.
It was still early – just after 12:30.
About five minutes after reaching cruising speed on the motorway we heard a strange noise.
It didn’t go away.
On French motorways there is an orange SOS pillar every two kilometers with a space to pull off the road and park. We made it to the next one and stopped.
Mon mari got out and looked – we had a flat tire.
Cars don’t have spare tires any more. There’s not even a place to put a spare tire. Instead, there are these extremely useful kits. The idea is that one fills the tire with gunk, adds air and limps to a service station.
Mon mari thought our tire was too far gone for that to work.
I was instructed to call for help.
I’ve always wondered how the SOS things worked. Now I know
There is an instruction sheet on the side in four languages and a big green button. I pressed the button and a person answered. I explained the problem as best I could, which was not very good, but apparently good enough. I gave her the details (car, license number, etc.) I was told that help would be there in 30 minutes.
Twenty minutes later mon mari was bored and decided to play with the repair kit. He got the tire inflated…. Sort of.
Fifteen minutes later he decided we should try to make it off the motorway – the next exit was 20 kilometers. He left the flashers on and we crawled along the shoulder. At the next SOS spot we stopped and checked. The tire seemed to be holding air.
On to the next SOS (every two kilometers) and we were still okay.
Before the next SOS there was a proper wayside. We pulled in.
Mon mari got out but before he could even look at the tire a big flatbed rescue truck pulled in behind us. The driver got out and, rather sternly, explained that he (and the entire world) had been looking all over for us and finally spotted us pulling off. He looked at the tire, shook his head and told us he was taking us in.
While we stood there discussing it all it started to rain.
Decision made – we got in the truck, he loaded our car and off we went.
Once at the garage I called our insurance roadside assistance number. As usual, I got the ‘phone tree’. Unlike in the U.S. the first choice is not your preferred language. After hitting numbers, trying to explain our plight, being transferred all over the world I finally took my phone out to the driver and let him do the talking. He got it all sorted out in thirty seconds.
It was so frustrating…. I had just spent 4 hours talking to all sorts of people in French – probably poorly, but being understood and even told I was doing well only to be totally thwarted by a phone call.
Anyway, the driver hung up and told us everything was fine. But he didn’t have a matching tire in stock. By law the front tires have to match each other (as do the back tires).
He’d order it and it would be there on Thursday, provided the truck-driver strike didn’t happen. Whatever, we could take a taxi home (an hour’s drive each way) and back again whenever the tire came in. The insurance would cover it.
We don’t have a second car. It’s all very nice that the insurance would cover a taxi to and from the garage, but what do we do without a car? What if the tire doesn’t come in right away (which is very likely), etc., etc.
We already knew we had to buy one new tire – how much for two?
We had lunch (a candy bar and orange soda) and discussed our options.
We decided on buying two new tires – the kind they had in stock.
Could they do that right away? Yes, of course.
Our definition of ‘right away’ is somewhat different. I mean, really, how long can it take to put on two tires?
Apparently the answer is three hours.
At 5:45 we are, once again, on our way home.
Yes, the girls were very happy to see us. (I had called our neighbor right after the flat and she let them out for a romp.)
Last update on January 23, 2015