Chicken & Dumplings
The best possible version of this meal is made by your mom, on a crisp fall day, at 4:30pm when the sun is golden and just starting to turn off for the night. It’s perfect if you’re at the table struggling with your math homework while the chicken is popping in the cast iron skillet and crunchy leaves tumble across the kitchen window. At least, this what I see when I think about making chicken & dumplings.
When I think about cooking I remember chicken & dumplings because it inspired me, made me realize not only to focus on the end result but that the process was crucial, and the little things matter. Like- if you use tongs to pick up the dumplings to put them in the water- this meal will be very different. It taught me many things.
It reminds me to breathe and smile. Your nose is very important when cooking- it tells you when things are done, burnt, or just getting there. There are few better smells than browning chicken to make a cook happy. The smells is so rich that it can’t help but feel like a lazy Sunday afternoon even it’s Tuesday night.
It taught me that the right tools make the right food. I can still see my mom’s favorite spatula, the one she used to lift the dumplings and spill them into the simmering stock pot. The wooden grip had long been lost so it was just a narrow metal handle attached to a very thin piece of metal with small heart-like holes punched in it. She still has it. It’s worth mentioning because it’s the flour you scoop up with the dumpling dough that thickens the stock to make the creamy gravy. Use tongs and you’ll just be eating onion soup with dumplings rather than a perfect Midwest-stick-to-your-ribs cold weather classic.
Maybe most importantly, chicken & dumplings made me LOVE the cast iron skillet. My mom still has this too, and I have to resist stealing it every time I see it sitting on her stove.
It’s said that food makes memories, but it’s possible that memories make food. I wouldn’t have the same attachment to this meal if I’d just gotten carryout from a diner or did my homework in my room. Hearing the chicken sizzle, seeing the stock thicken, and smelling our house for the rest of the night makes me excited to fire up the skillet every single time decades later.