We had chicken and dumplings tonight for dinner. It is one of my favorite meals, but I do not fix it often. It takes so long for the chicken to brown. You really have to stand there over the stove, turning the chicken every few minutes so it browns but doesn't stick. That's really not my favorite way to cook. I prefer to put something in a baking dish, pop it in the oven, and walk away.
It's a dish that Mom made a lot. I frequently marvel at her. Once we were both in school, Mom worked full-time outside the house. Most of that time she worked about 20 minutes away, but when we were in high school, her commute was about 45 minutes. Somehow Mom managed to work full time, keep up with the two of us, keep the house clean, and make wonderful meals every night. I am convinced she's Superwoman. I get home from working 8 hours, and am too tired to fix something like chicken and dumplings.
For my Grandma, chicken and dumplings was a special meal. Grandma always had chickens. Even though they lived in the village, they kept chickens. If you wanted chicken for dinner, you went out, caught one, killed it, plucked it, and cooked it. Mom has told us stories about the killing and plucking of chickens. Because of the preparation necessary to fix a chicken, it was usually reserved for Sunday dinners. Unless Grandma had done something without Grandpa's knowledge. Then she made chicken and dumplings, even if it was a Wednesday. Mom says Grandma made it whenever she had something to tell Grandpa. It was her way of softening the blow.
Grandma was always buying houses at auction. If a psychiatrist were to analyze her, they would probably say she had a deep seeded fear of not having a home. Grandma's family moved a lot when she was growing up. The house was mortgaged to pay for the farming, and a couple bad years of farming meant they lost the house. I do not think this was an uncommon occurrence in rural 1920's America.
When Mom was growing up, Grandma would hear of a house going up on auction, and decide to buy it. These were the days when the bank was a local bank, not just a branch of a multi-national corporation. The bank president was a member of the community, and knew his customers by name. Grandma would go to the bank, take a small loan that she could pay back with at most a couple of paychecks, and walk out with the money for the house. It was also the time that loans were issued on handshakes, not a mountain of paperwork. And houses could be bought at auction for just a couple hundred or maybe a thousand dollars. Grandma felt the houses were good investments, and she & Grandpa would resell the houses. They were ahead of their time, flipping houses before it became a trend.
Whenever Grandma bought one of her houses, she then had to tell Grandpa. Because she usually did this during the day, while he was at work. So she made chicken and dumplings. When Grandpa walked through the door and saw dinner, he asked Grandma what she had done. Mom said he never got upset, just told her they'd take a drive and look at their house. But he always knew she'd done something, because chicken and dumplings was her 'tell'.
While Grandma always had chickens, Grandpa always had roosters. From the time he was a young boy, he kept roosters. I do not have extensive knowledge of poultry, but I know roosters can be mean. Mom says one of the roosters Grandpa had was incredibly mean. Every time Grandma went into the hen house, the rooster attacked her. She told Grandpa, and warned him that the rooster was going to attack her one too many times and she'd kill it. It was Grandpa's prized rooster, so he really didn't believe her. One night Grandma served chicken and dumplings, and she hadn't bought a house. Grandpa told her it tasted even better than usual, and went out to feed his roosters. That's when he realized dinner had been his prize rooster. It attacked Grandma for the last time!
I chuckle each time I make chicken and dumplings. I'm not making it to break any news to Erich. Actually, he doesn't care for the dish as much as I do. To him, dumplings are supposed to be more of a noodle. The way we make the dumplings, they are made with Bisquick and milk, and are then dropped by the spoonful into the boiling broth. So they are more like an airy biscuit than a noodle. I make it because I like it. It is warm, comforting, and brings back happy memories.
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