Creamy Chicken Salad

The leaves haven't turned yet but they're thinking about it. You can see it in the way the light hits the maples along the fence line at the subdivision — there's a yellow creeping into the green, not enough to call it fall but enough to call it a warning. I've been doing this long enough to read seasons the way Betty reads scripture: by feel, by repetition, by the bone-deep knowing that comes from paying attention for fifty-three years.

Drove Clay to his Thursday group this week. He didn't ask me to — I was in the neighborhood, which is a lie I tell so poorly that Clay doesn't even bother calling me on it. He just got in the truck and we drove in silence and I dropped him at the church basement and said I'd be at the Kroger. I was not at the Kroger. I was in the church parking lot reading the same page of a Farm Bureau magazine for forty-five minutes. He came out looking tired but level, and I'll take tired and level over the alternative every day of the week and twice on Thursdays.

My back was manageable this week, which means it only stopped me cold once — Wednesday, reaching across the truck bed for a bundle of rebar. That lightning bolt that starts in your lower spine and shoots down your left leg like God himself is reminding you that you are not twenty-three anymore. I stood there gripping the tailgate until it passed, maybe two minutes, maybe ten. Time gets elastic when you're in that kind of pain. I went back to work because that's what you do. Connie asked that night if I'd called the doctor. I said I would. I have been saying I would since August. We both know what that means.

Saturday I made chicken and dumplings — the real kind, rolled dumplings, not those biscuit things people drop in broth and call dumplings. Betty's recipe: whole chicken simmered until it falls apart, pick the meat, strain the broth, roll the dough thin as paper and cut it into strips. You drop the strips into the simmering broth and they cook in three minutes and come out silky and dense and nothing like the fluffy nonsense in cookbooks. The trick is the dough — just flour, shortening, salt, and enough broth to make it hold together. You roll it thin. Betty always said if you can't see your hand through the dough, it's too thick. I can see my hand. I'm getting closer to hers every year.

Every time I simmer a whole chicken low and slow and pull the meat off the bones by hand, I think about what Betty would do with the extra — she never let anything go to waste, and neither do I. The same patience it takes to roll dumpling dough thin enough to see through is the patience that makes a proper creamy chicken salad: good pulled meat, nothing rushed, nothing from a can. After a week of parking lots and tailgates and backs that don’t cooperate, you want something that rewards the effort of doing it right.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 55 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

2 lbs bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts or thighs
4 cups water or low-sodium chicken broth
1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2/3 cup mayonnaise
2 tablespoons sour cream
3 stalks celery, finely diced
1/4 cup red onion, finely diced
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped
Salt and black pepper to taste

Instructions

Simmer the chicken. Place chicken in a pot with water or broth, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and pepper. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce to a low simmer. Cover and cook 30–35 minutes until the chicken is cooked through and pulling away from the bone.
Cool and pull the meat. Remove chicken from the pot and set on a cutting board to cool for 10 minutes. Discard the skin and bones. Pull the meat apart by hand into rough, generous shreds — don’t chop it fine; you want pieces with some presence.
Make the dressing. In a large bowl, whisk together the mayonnaise, sour cream, lemon juice, and Dijon mustard until smooth. Season with salt and pepper.
Combine. Add the shredded chicken, celery, red onion, and parsley to the bowl. Fold everything together gently until the chicken is evenly coated. Taste and adjust salt and pepper.
Chill and serve. Cover and refrigerate at least 30 minutes before serving to let the flavors settle. Serve on toasted bread, crackers, or a bed of greens.

Nutrition (per serving)

Creamy Chicken Salad — When the Broth Clears and the Meat’s Already Picked