Hub #14 - Grandmother, Chicken and Dumplings and Me

Let me begin this marvelous kitchen dialogue by saying I am not an expert chef. However, my mother and my grandmother were. Not sure why I didn't inherit that marvelous gift, but I was an avid observer of what they did. I guess I hoped by some sort of spectacular osmosis I would be transformed into at the least a "good cook," if not a "great chef." You know how Clark Kent was transformed into Superman when he entered the phone booth" well, perhaps, I thought if I went into the kitchen - "poof" - faster than the speed of lightning I would become "Super Chef." Well, not really but I did learn how to read their recipes and the results are not half bad.

I was always fascinated when, as a little girl, I would go into the tiny kitchen at my grandmother's house and climb up on the small, slightly wiggly, step stool with one goal in mind - to watch, to stir, to listen as she would, blow by blow, describe each step, and, of course, to be the "get this and get that" helper. When she announced she would be preparing her famous "chicken and dumplings" it was like a magnet that drew the entire family to dinner. The fragrance of the cooking "chicken and dumplings" would waft it's way all through the house. I do believe you could smell them cooking for at least a mile away. That might be a slight exaggeration but they sure smelled good to this little upcoming chef.

Now grandmother was (she passed away about five years ago) a southern lady and a southern cook (the more butter, cooking oil - we call it grease - and salt the better). As I write this I am filled with such fond memories of her in the kitchen clad in her apron over her summer dress, high heels clicking on the wooden floor and spatula in hand. One thing I did inherit was the "heels" thing even in the kitchen while cooking. Well, let's get to it. Why don't you join me now and let's see how it goes in grandmother's kitchen?

She would start with 1 large stewing hen. That stewing hen didn't have a chance with grandmother as she would wash it well - on outside and on the inside. That bird would definitely get a bath that would insure it would enter the pot clean to the core. Then she would take a sharp knife and separate it into serving pieces.Grandmother would salt the chicken sparingly (and sometimes not so sparingly). This is the time grandmother would send me to search her "pots and pans" cabinet to retrieve a large boiling pot with a lid. She would fill the pot with water enough to cover the chicken and then put the chicken pieces in the pot. Now the serious cooking had begun. I loved being the "chef's assistant." Really, I just loved being in the kitchen with grandmother. Her kitchen may have been tiny and the audience was extremely small - me - but you would have thought she was TV chef Paula Deen cooking for the whole world to see.

Grandmother would light up the gas stove and turn a large burner on high, place the pot with the chicken on it until it boiled, then she would turn the heat down to low and cook until the hen was tender. Now it's time to cool the chicken down and debone it, leaving large pieces. The next step in this marvelous culinary process was making the dumplings.

To be sure, my grandmother was a fan of Gold Medal flour. She was very specific in her choice of flour and to be totally honest about this most important matter, I am not sure why. That said, she would take two cups of plain (Gold Medal) flour and would add cold water to the flour and then she would give me my next assignment - mixing the dough gently (now that was tough for me as a little girl as I would rather play in the dough). Grandmother would stress in the most serious manner that I was to mix gently until their was a soft dough consistency. Now if I didn't do it right she would take charge with the spatula immediately and sometimes that spatula would find it's way for a swift smack on my leg (it didn't hurt) to bring me back to the task at hand.

The next step was fun as we would spread some flour on a cutting board and then roll small portions with a "roller." Grandmother would take a sharp knife and cut narrow strips making the "dumplings." In the meantime, the stove would be cranked up again and the chicken broth would be brought to a boil. When the broth was boiling she would begin to drop the cut chicken pieces and the dumpling strips in the pot as it gently boiled. I watched as she would then set the covered pot on a back burner for a while so it's contents would thicken the thin dumplings in the broth.

The table set with her fine china. The family seated at their places. The grace said. The time had arrived to sample this marvelous masterpiece of hers. Of course, she had made some flat cornbread and some cold, sweetened iced-tea to go along with the main course. Words can't express the joy you could see on grandmother's face as she watched her hungry clan eat to their fill her chicken and dumplings. I, of course, would have to take some credit for watching, for stirring, for flouring and for being her sometimes capable assistant.

I miss her. I miss cooking (being her assistant) with her. I only hope my daughter has as much fun with me in the kitchen as I did with my grandmother. She and my mother both had the ability to prepare meals that were not only good to taste but were meaningful as the family would sit around the table and enjoy their time together. I'm doing my best to leave that kind of legacy and fond memory for my little one.

Thanks for joining me in grandmother's kitchen. Hope you have as much fun making those famous "chicken and dumplings" as we did. Let me know how it all turns out. If you'll excuse me now I've got to go find my apron.