Stuffing Dumpling Soup

The virus has a name now: COVID-19. The name is clinical and cold, the kind of name that a disease acquires when it becomes official, when it moves from murmur to declaration, from distant concern to approaching reality. I read about it at the library with the thoroughness of a librarian and the anxiety of a daughter with a seventy-seven-year-old mother and the pragmatism of a woman who has survived enough crises to know that the surviving begins with information.

Carrie has been following the virus news with the analytical intensity of a girl who was born to be a journalist and chose to be a teacher instead. She brings facts to dinner: case numbers, transmission rates, the phrase "flatten the curve" that she explains to Robert with the patience of a teenager teaching her father a concept he has not yet acquired. Robert listens with the skepticism of a man who reads conservative news sources and who considers alarm to be a liberal indulgence. I listen with the alarm of a woman who has a mother to protect and a sister in a group home and a library full of patrons who touch the same books with the same hands.

Mama is unaware of the virus. She is unaware of most things that are not in the kitchen, not in the garden, not in the hymns she hums, not in the faces she sometimes recognizes and sometimes doesn't. The unawareness is a mercy — the last mercy in a long list of mercies that this disease has accidentally provided: the mercy of not knowing that the world is afraid, the mercy of living in a present tense that does not include pandemics, the mercy of humming "Precious Lord" while the rest of the world holds its breath.

I have begun stockpiling — not dramatically, not the toilet-paper-hoarding that the news is showing, but the quiet, practical stockpiling of a woman who has survived hurricanes in the Lowcountry and who knows that preparation is not panic, it is love. Extra canned goods. Extra cleaning supplies. Extra medication for Mama, refilled two weeks early by a pharmacist who understands.

I made chicken stock — ten quarts, from the freezer full of bones I have been saving all winter. The stock is the foundation of everything I cook, and the making of it in large quantities is both practical (we will need soup) and symbolic (the bones give up their strength for the broth, and the broth sustains the family, and the sustaining is what cooking has always been: the transformation of the raw into the nourishing, the dead into the living, the past into the future).

That first batch of stock — all ten quarts of it, golden and trembling in the jars — was already cooling on the counter when I knew exactly what it was meant to become. Soup has always been how I say I am here, and I will keep you safe, and this Stuffing Dumpling Soup, with its tender dumplings and deep savory broth, felt like the most honest translation of that intention I could make. The bones gave up everything they had; the least I could do was build something worthy of them.

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

Ingredients

8 cups homemade or low-sodium chicken stock
2 cups cooked chicken, shredded or cubed
2 stalks celery, sliced thin
2 medium carrots, peeled and sliced into coins
1 medium yellow onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon olive oil or unsalted butter
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/2 teaspoon dried)
1/2 teaspoon dried sage
Salt and black pepper to taste
For the stuffing dumplings:
2 cups prepared stuffing mix (herb-seasoned)
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1/4 cup chicken stock (to bind)
2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped

Instructions

Sauté the aromatics. In a large Dutch oven or soup pot, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion, celery, and carrots and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is softened and translucent, about 6–8 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more.
Build the broth. Pour in the 8 cups of chicken stock and add the thyme and sage. Bring to a gentle boil, then reduce heat to a steady simmer. Add the shredded chicken and season with salt and black pepper. Let the soup simmer while you prepare the dumplings.
Make the stuffing dumplings. In a medium bowl, combine the prepared stuffing mix, beaten eggs, 1/4 cup chicken stock, and fresh parsley. Stir until the mixture holds together. If it feels too loose, let it rest 3–4 minutes so the stuffing absorbs the liquid. Using a tablespoon or small scoop, form the mixture into balls roughly 1 1/2 inches in diameter — you should get about 18–20 dumplings.
Simmer the dumplings. Gently lower the dumplings into the simmering soup one at a time, spacing them so they don’t touch. Cover the pot and cook undisturbed for 12–15 minutes, until the dumplings are set through and slightly puffed. Resist lifting the lid during this time.
Adjust and serve. Taste the broth and adjust seasoning as needed. Ladle soup into bowls, making sure each serving gets 3–4 dumplings. Garnish with a little extra fresh parsley if desired. Serve hot with crusty bread.

Nutrition (per serving)

Stuffing Dumpling Soup — The Broth That Holds Everything Together