By The book is halfway written. Twenty-five thousand words. I write at 5 a.m. and the words come the way the highway comes — straight, flat, honest, one mile after another, one paragraph after another, the horizon always ahead and the work always behind and the present always here, in the sentence, in the recipe, in the story I am telling about a truck driver and a slow cooker and a life that is ordinary and important and ordinary because it is important.
I wrote the Darla chapter this week. Not the death — I do not write about the death in detail, not in the blog, not in the book, because the detail belongs to the police report and the newspaper and the people who were there, and I was not there, and the not-being-there is its own chapter, the chapter of the phone call and the shoulder of I-80 and the two hours I do not remember. I wrote about the chocolate sheet cake. I wrote about Darla stealing cookie dough from Gayle's bowl. I wrote about the birthday cakes and the sweet tooth and the way I make the cake every November 3 and every birthday for Amber and Justin. I wrote about keeping Darla alive in the kitchen, in the frosting, in the taste of something your sister loved.
The writing of it wrecked me. I wrote it at 5 a.m. and was done by 6:30 and I sat at the kitchen table and cried, quietly, in the dark, before anyone was awake. Dave found me at 6:45. He did not ask. He made me coffee. The coffee was the question and the answer. The coffee was Dave.
I made Gayle's chicken and dumplings for dinner — the thick kind, the therapy kind, the kind that fills you up in a way that feels like someone is hugging you from the inside. I needed the hug. The dumplings delivered.
I didn’t have Gayle’s exact recipe in front of me that morning — the real one, the handwritten one, the one with the dumplings that puff up like little pillows — so I made the next closest thing I know how to make: Chicken a la King, thick and creamy and full, the kind of dinner that does the same quiet work that dumplings do. It’s not Gayle’s, but it comes from the same place, the belief that food can be medicine when you need it to be, that a good sauce over something warm is a small act of grace on a hard day.
Chicken a la King
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 1/3 cup butter
- 1 small green bell pepper, diced
- 1 cup sliced fresh mushrooms
- 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon celery salt
- 1 3/4 cups chicken broth
- 1 cup whole milk
- 3 cups cooked chicken, cubed or shredded
- 1 jar (4 oz) diced pimientos, drained
- Cooked egg noodles, biscuits, or toast points, for serving
Instructions
- Saute the vegetables. In a large skillet or saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the diced green pepper and sliced mushrooms and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 to 6 minutes until softened.
- Build the roux. Sprinkle the flour, salt, pepper, and celery salt over the vegetables and stir to coat. Cook for 1 to 2 minutes, stirring constantly, so the flour loses its raw smell.
- Add the liquids. Gradually whisk in the chicken broth, then the milk, pouring slowly to prevent lumps. Increase heat slightly and cook, stirring frequently, until the sauce thickens and begins to bubble, about 8 to 10 minutes.
- Add the chicken and pimientos. Stir in the cooked chicken and drained pimientos. Reduce heat to low and simmer for 5 minutes, until everything is heated through and the sauce coats the back of a spoon.
- Taste and adjust. Season with additional salt and pepper as needed. Serve hot over egg noodles, split biscuits, or toast points.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 310 | Protein: 26g | Fat: 15g | Carbs: 14g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 520mg