New Englanders wax positively poetic in the fall. Inevitably I will get an e-mail from my generally rather reserved dad talking about the crisp leaves underfoot, the crack of the bat in the playoffs, the gloss of late afternoon sun on the Charles - and that's not even getting started on the food, which makes us behave particularly out of character - like Frosty Beacon Hill matrons in their ancient LL Bean boots that start smiling at you over the racks of squash at the grocery.
My particular fall poison is one-pot dinners, particularly those that allow us to make use of another fall treasure - game birds.
Make this for a quiet evening dinner for two, after a day of raking leaves.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Rub the birds with olive oil, and salt and pepper generously. Chop fennel into chunky slices (about the size of three matchsticks tied together). Cut the bacon into small 1/2 inch bits (lardon!) and toss into a large lidded cast iron pan (hello, Hellbelly) over medium low heat. Cook until slightly crisp and glistening, then brown the hens on all sides in the bacon fat, until you have a nice golden crust on all sides. Pull birds aside and dump in the fennel, and saute briefly (about 3 minutes). Settle the game hens gently on top of the bed of fennel, then dump in a nice cup of Lillet or sweet wine. Clap the lid on and stick the whole shebang in the oven. Leave totally alone for 45 minutes while you watch an episode of, say, Freaks and Geeks. To serve, I recommend settling the birdies on top of slices of thick, toasted country bread on a deep plate (one bird per person). Put the pan with the juices over medium-high heat and simmer until slightly thickened and reduced. Adjust seasoning as needed with salt and pepper, then pour over the hens. Luscious with a not-too-buttery chardonnay and a frisse salad to follow, to mop up the last bits of juices.
