6 minute read
Chicken (and Dumpling)-eating Methodism
from LAND Spring 2024
CUISINE
Chicken (and Dumpling) -eating Methodism
STORY BY LORIE A. WOODWARD
Central Texas, where I grew up, is a culinary crossroads. Pit-smoked barbecue and kolaches. Tacos, burritos and enchiladas. Chili and chicken-fried steak. Gumbo and crawfish. And all things soulful and Southern, including my favorite monochromatic comfort food, chicken and dumplings.
You may think your grandmother made the best chicken and dumplings in the world, but you are wrong. My Granny Wilma did. Poached chicken, butter-enriched homemade stock and slick dumplings, not those fluffy biscuit impostors, combined are the elixir of the gods or at least the nectar of the Methodists.
Well, except for my Papa Rufe, who much to my amazement claimed to hate chicken in any form. Granny always fried him some baloney instead.
Free-range chickens are more athletic than their couch potato pen-raised cousins. More action equals more muscles. Granny Wilma understood this. She cooked those yard birds slow and low for her signature chicken and dumplings.
Chicken George, not his real name but one that my middle brother earned by being a real-life chicken whisperer, had a red rooster the size of a small turkey. I don’t remember the rooster’s name, but I remember his attitude.
He was the literal cock of the walk. One day he bowed up at my Granny Wilma as she tried to make her way up the sidewalk to our back door. He made an enemy of a woman with a long memory and a stock pot.
Time passed. The red rooster got older and crankier. He made the mistake of making his presence known on a chicken-killing day. (Chicken George had just completed the county stock show. We had 75 non-show worthy broilers to butcher.) The rooster crowed and flapped.
Granny Wilma took his display as ill-mannered taunting and offered to make chicken and dumplings out of his ample carcass. Noting the rooster’s advancing age and decreasing vigor, Daddy agreed and prepared him for an eternal chicken stock bath.
In the process, it became apparent the rooster was past his prime. Even his white meat was dark. He smelled foul, not fowl, but Granny was not deterred. She seemed strangely invigorated by the chance to boil him into submission.
The following Sunday we gathered around Granny’s Formicatopped table for lunch. She placed the hallowed pot in our midst and ceremoniously lifted the lid with the pronouncement, “I cooked him all day yesterday.”
Unfortunately, his meat was as black as his soul. We bowed our heads in reverence—and disappointment—and gave thanks for fried baloney.
Granny Wilma Style Chicken and Dumplings
To my knowledge, Granny Wilma didn’t have a recipe for her chicken and dumplings. I was certain she’d be making me chicken and dumplings forever, so I never bothered to learn. It took me years to re-create her formula. They’re not as good as hers, but they’re a
There are two secrets. The first used to be Bisquick because you don’t have to add any leavening, but then they tinkered with the formula—and didn’t tell anybody. I thought I had lost my touch.
The second secret is half-and-half. It was the missing link for many years until I remembered that Granny never kept regular milk in her refrigerator. She drank her coffee extra hot, extra strong and all day long. Half-and-half and saccharine were her add-ins. Saccharine has
I generally break this into a two day process.
Day One:
Make chicken stock. How you make it is less important than that you start from scratch. My chicken stock formula is the one espoused by Julia Child in "How to Cook". Granny didn’t need Julia. My tips: The longer and slower you cook it the better. Barely bubbling is superior to rapid boiling. Skim off the gray scum (it’s as ugly as it sounds) early in the cooking process, so your broth is clear.
Retrieve your chicken, remove skin and bones. Save the chicken for the dumplings. If it doesn’t seem like enough or you want big chunks, bake some additional chicken in the oven. White or dark meat, it’s your choice, unless you’re using an ancient red rooster, then it’s all dark.
Chill the broth overnight, so the fat is easy to skim off. Sometimes Granny didn’t skim the fat, and she added butter. Did I mention that I was a happy fat kid? Don’t serve this to your cardiologist.
Day Two:
Reheat the broth to a slow boil while you make the dumplings.
Whisk together equal parts of all-purpose flour and Pioneer (regular, not low fat) in a big bowl. (The quantity depends on how much broth you have and how many dumplings you want.) Add enough halfand-half to make a stiff dough. If you add too much liquid, add some more flour and/or baking mix. Try to find your balance relatively soon though, or you will have enough dumplings to feed an entire county and not enough broth to cook them all.
Roll out the dumplings to about 1/8” – 1/4” thickness between two sheets of wax paper. I err on the side of thin. It helps to flour the bottom sheet of wax paper and then to sprinkle the top of the dumplings with flour. Do a test roll. If it sticks, add more flour. You want to be able to roll them out and handle them easily.
Cut them to your preferred size. I like 1” x 1.5”. Some people use a pizza cutter for ease. I use a thin-bladed fillet knife. Repeat.
Drop dumplings into bubbling broth until the surface is full. Cover and cook for five minutes before adding the next batch. The time between the batches keeps the dough pillows from sticking together. Stir gently. Repeat until you’ve added them all.
Add chopped chicken, salt and pepper to taste. If you want to enrich the broth with butter, now is the time to add it. Let them rest and thicken.
To be truly like Granny Wilma, make these early in the morning. Let them sit all day and gently reheat for supper. The sitting lets the flavors meld and the broth thicken into comfort food nirvana. Unbutton your pants before you start to eat.
