By February. The month of Earl. But this year, for the first time, February doesn't feel like a month of dread. It feels like a month of honoring. The difference is small and enormous — dread looks backward, honoring looks at the whole picture. Earl lived for sixty-nine years and loved me for forty-three of them and died on Valentine's Day and I will carry that for the rest of my life. But I will carry it the way I carry a cast iron skillet: with both hands, with respect for the weight, with the knowledge that the heaviness is what makes it valuable.
I went to Bonaventure on February 14. Not with catfish this time. Not with carnations. I brought a copy of the book. I sat on Earl's bench and I opened it to the dedication page — "For Earl Henderson, who gave me the reason" — and I read it aloud. Then I read him the shrimp and grits chapter, because that chapter is his. Every word of it. The broth and the butter and the seasoning and the curl of the shrimp and the way he always said "That's the best you've ever made." I read it to his headstone and to the squirrels and to the live oak that shelters him, and when I was done, I closed the book and I put it on the bench and I said, "Happy Valentine's Day, Earl. I wrote you a book." Then I took the book home because leaving a book at a cemetery is romantic but impractical, and Earl was nothing if not practical.
Denise brought me flowers. Not carnations — sunflowers. Big, bold, bright. She said, "New flowers for a new tradition." I put them in the blue vase where the carnations used to go, and they changed the whole room. That's what new traditions do. They don't replace the old ones. They brighten the space around them.
Made chicken and dumplings. Earl's comfort food. My comfort food. The dumplings floated in the broth and I ate them slowly, in the quiet, in the company of Earl's absence, which is still a kind of company. It always will be.
Now go on and feed somebody.
Chicken and dumplings is what I made that day, floating in broth, eaten slowly in the quiet—but the recipe I keep coming back to when I need Earl’s kind of comfort is this one: chicken patties, simple and honest, the way he liked things. There’s something about shaping something with your hands and setting it in a hot pan that feels like an act of intention, like choosing to nourish yourself even when grief has made you small. These patties won’t replace the dumplings, and they won’t replace Earl—but they’ll feed you, and some days that’s exactly enough.
Chicken Patties
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 lb ground chicken
- 1/3 cup plain breadcrumbs
- 1 egg, lightly beaten
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 tablespoons finely diced onion
- 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
- 1 teaspoon dried parsley
- 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 2 tablespoons olive oil or butter, for the pan
Instructions
- Mix the patty base. In a large bowl, combine the ground chicken, breadcrumbs, egg, garlic, onion, Worcestershire sauce, parsley, onion powder, salt, and pepper. Mix gently with your hands or a fork until just combined—don’t overwork it.
- Form the patties. Divide the mixture into 4 equal portions and shape each into a round patty about 3/4 inch thick. Press a slight indent into the center of each with your thumb to help them cook evenly.
- Heat the pan. Warm the olive oil or butter in a large skillet over medium heat until shimmering, about 2 minutes.
- Cook the patties. Add the patties to the pan and cook undisturbed for 8—10 minutes per side, until deep golden brown and cooked through (internal temperature of 165°F). Resist the urge to press them down.
- Rest and serve. Transfer to a plate and let rest for 3 minutes before serving. Serve with mashed potatoes, steamed vegetables, or alongside a warm bowl of broth.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 265 | Protein: 26g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 8g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 420mg