Lidia's Chicken Breast with Oranges and Olives

'tis the season - where candles are lit to ward off darkness. Where sparkle is called for and the usually-muted Claudia looks for a bit of glitter. And for dinner - I want flavor - more than the riches of fats and sugar so prevalent in December - I want the bright tang of oranges coupled with some briny salt. So I brought Lidia Bastianich's chicken with oranges and olives to the table. And was promptly told I could make it again.

So should you. 

Ingredients - serves 6 (I halved it and it served two just fine)

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1-1/2 pounds thinly sliced chicken cutlets

1 teaspoon kosher salt

Flour - for dredging

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 large red onion, sliced

1 cup pitted Gaeta or Kalamata olives, whole or halved

Juice and zest of 1 orange

1/2 cup white wine

1 teaspoon fennel powder (I used fennel seeds)*

2 tablespoons chopped, fresh Italian parsley 

For fennel powder: put 1/2 cup of fennel seed in spice grinder and mill until you have powder. Makes 1/4 cup. Store at room temperature, sealed.

1. In a large skillet over medium high heat, heat olive oil. Season chicken with 1/2 teaspoon of salt and lightly dredge chicken in flour. Lightly brown the chicken in oil (until it has a blonde crust), about two minutes per side. Cook chicken in batches. Remove chicken to plate.

2. Add butter and onion to skillet and cook until onion is softened - 3-4 minutes. Add olives, orange juice, zest white wine and fennel. Add chicken back into skillet and simmer until chicken is cooked through and the sauce coats the chicken - about 4 minutes. Season with remaining salt, sprinkle with parsley (I used some fennel frond) and serve.

We had a trim-the-tree dinner. 

It will never be a designer tree. The ornaments come from our travels, our quirks - all the stages of our lives. Trimming the tree evokes all the threads of our Christmases -  Past, Present and Future.

This little beauty was from my parent's earliest Christmas together.

And this came from a neighbor when I was five years old. I am willing to bet some of you have him.

Paul (who prefers to direct the trimming of the tree) noted that the lower third of the tree was bare.

And it still is. Because ...