I'm a leg man.
Nothing extraordinary here, except extreme efficiency in getting dinner on the table in the midst of an activity spate (I know that's not how you use the word, but I'm busy, don't bother me). Several chicken legs, rubbed with bottled Cajun seasoning and left to contemplate their lack of navels in the fridge for a couple of hours. 300 degree oven, covered, with a little broth for 2 hours while the spate is being dealt with. (If only the dealing had had to do with blackjack.)