Mom's Chicken and Dumplings -- The Pot of Clouds I Make Every Mother's Day to Find My Way Back to Gayle’s Kitchen

Mother's Day. The kids made me cards. Josie drew a picture of me that looks like a potato with hair, which is honestly not the worst representation of me at five a.m. on a Monday. Tyler made me a coupon book with offers like one free hug and I will set the table without complaining one time, which is the most honest gift I have ever received. Amber made me a real card, the kind a twelve-year-old makes when she is trying to say something she cannot say out loud. It said, thank you for choosing us. I put it in my wallet. It is still there.

Justin card was short: Happy Mother's Day, Mom. Three words and my name. From Justin, that is a paragraph. That is an essay. That is everything.

Dave made me breakfast in bed, which meant he brought me toast and scrambled eggs and coffee. The eggs were slightly burned and the toast was slightly underdone and the coffee was perfect, because Dave can make coffee and nothing else, and I love him for the attempt more than the result. I ate every bite and said it was wonderful, and it was wonderful, because wonderful is not about the food. It is about the man standing in the doorway looking at you like you are the whole world.

I called Gayle. She does not make a fuss about Mother's Day, never has, but I call every year because you do not skip calling your mother. We talked about nothing. We talked about everything. She mentioned Darla once, just in passing, just her name hanging in the air between us like it always does on days that are supposed to be about mothers.

For dinner I made what I wanted, which is the Mother's Day privilege: my mom's chicken and dumplings. A whole chicken simmered with carrots and celery until the meat falls off the bone, and then big fluffy drop dumplings stirred in at the end. It is not pretty. It looks like a pot of clouds floating in broth. But it tastes like Gayle's kitchen on a winter night, and that is where I was safest as a kid, so that is what I made. The kids ate it without complaint. Even Justin had seconds. On Mother's Day, that is all I need: the cards and the burned eggs and the chicken and dumplings and the sound of my family at the table.

There is something about needing to feel small and safe that makes you reach for the food that held you when you were a child, and this year that need was loud. My mom’s chicken and dumplings is not a recipe I have to think about—my hands just know it, the way I imagine Gayle’s hands knew it before me. Here is how I make it.

Mom’s Chicken and Dumplings

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour 30 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 50 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 1 whole chicken (3 1/2 to 4 lbs)
• 3 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into 1/2-inch rounds
• 3 stalks celery, sliced
• 1 medium yellow onion, quartered
• 3 cloves garlic, smashed
• 2 bay leaves
• 2 teaspoons kosher salt, divided
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
• 8 cups water, or enough to cover the chicken
• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 tablespoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 3/4 cup whole milk
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

Instructions

1. Simmer the chicken. Place the whole chicken in a large heavy pot or Dutch oven. Add carrots, celery, onion, garlic, bay leaves, 1 1/2 teaspoons salt, and black pepper. Pour in enough water to just cover. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce to a low, steady simmer. Cook uncovered for 1 hour to 1 hour 15 minutes, until the meat is falling off the bone.
2. Remove and shred. Carefully lift the chicken out of the pot and set it on a cutting board to cool slightly. Discard the bay leaves and onion quarters. Once cool enough to handle, remove and discard the skin and bones. Shred the meat into bite-sized pieces and return it to the pot.
3. Bring the broth back up. Return the pot to medium heat and bring the broth to a gentle boil. Taste and adjust salt. The broth should be well-seasoned — the dumplings will absorb it.
4. Make the dumpling batter. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Add the milk and melted butter and stir until just combined. The batter will be thick and shaggy. Do not overmix.
5. Drop the dumplings. Using a large spoon, drop heaping tablespoons of batter directly into the simmering broth, leaving a little space between each one. They will expand as they cook.
6. Cover and do not peek. Place the lid on the pot and cook for 15 minutes without lifting the lid. The steam is what makes them fluffy. After 15 minutes, check that the dumplings are cooked through — they should be puffed and dry in the center when split open.
7. Serve. Ladle into deep bowls, making sure each serving has broth, shredded chicken, vegetables, and at least two dumplings. It will not look like much. Eat it anyway.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 415 | Protein: 31g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 39g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 790mg