Chicken and Dumplings

The February thaw. Every year it comes — a week of forty-degree days in late February that tricks the optimists into thinking spring is here and the realists into knowing it isn't. The snow melts enough to show the brown grass underneath, which is not an improvement. The road turns to mud. The icicles drip all day and freeze again at night. It's a preview of March, which is itself a preview of April, which is when spring actually begins, no matter what the calendar says. In Vermont, spring arrives when it wants to. The calendar is a suggestion.

With the thaw, I went out to check the sugar maples. It's too early to tap — you need consistent freezing nights and thawing days, which won't come until mid-March — but I like to check the trees, walk the property, make sure the sugarhouse is ready. The equipment is cleaned — I did that last fall. The buckets are stacked. The evaporator pan is in place. Everything is waiting. I'm waiting too. Maple season is the first real event of the year, the thing that tells you: the earth is waking up. The trees are working. The sap is rising. Winter hasn't won.

I made chicken and dumplings. It's a late-winter dish — too heavy for spring, too comforting for summer, exactly right for a day that's forty degrees and raining and the house needs something warm and soft and forgiving. The chicken simmers in broth with carrots and celery until it falls off the bone. The dumplings are dropped in — flour, baking powder, milk, a little butter — and they steam on top of the soup for fifteen minutes, covered, don't peek. Don't peek. The steam does the work. If you lift the lid, you let the steam out, and the dumplings go flat, and flat dumplings are a failure of patience, which is a failure of character.

Helen helped with the dumplings. She makes them rounder than I do — mine are lumpy, irregular, shaped like something a geology student would study. Hers are smooth and even. She says presentation matters. I say the stomach doesn't have eyes. We've been having this argument for thirty-eight years. It's one of our best arguments. Nobody wins. Nobody needs to.

The thaw will end this weekend. The cold will come back. That's fine. The cold is just the wait. And the wait is almost over. March is coming. The sap will run. The buckets will fill. The sugarhouse will fill with steam. And I'll stand there, as I've stood there every March since I was a boy, and listen to the sap drip and the fire crackle and think: still here. Still standing. One more spring.

Dumplings were good. Helen's were rounder. Mine were better. Don't tell her I said that.

Here’s the recipe, the way I make it every February when the thaw tricks you into hoping and the freeze reminds you to wait. The dumplings are simple—flour, baking powder, milk, butter—and they don’t need to be round. They need to be left alone. Keep the lid on. The steam does the work. Helen will tell you presentation matters, and she’s not wrong, but the stomach doesn’t have eyes.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 35 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

3 1/2 pounds bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs and drumsticks
8 cups chicken broth
3 tablespoons butter
1 medium yellow onion, diced
3 carrots, peeled and sliced into 1/4-inch rounds
3 stalks celery, sliced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/2 teaspoon dried)
1 bay leaf
Salt and black pepper to taste
1/3 cup heavy cream

For the Dumplings:

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup whole milk
3 tablespoons butter, melted
2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped (optional)

Instructions

Cook the chicken. Place the chicken pieces in a large Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot. Pour in the chicken broth. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce to a simmer. Cook for 30 to 35 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through and falls easily off the bone. Skim any foam from the surface as it cooks.
Shred the chicken. Remove the chicken pieces to a cutting board. When cool enough to handle, pull the meat from the bones and shred it into bite-sized pieces. Discard the skin and bones. Set the shredded chicken aside.
Build the soup base. In the same pot with the broth, melt 3 tablespoons butter over medium heat. Add the onion, carrots, and celery. Cook for 5 to 7 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables begin to soften. Add the garlic, thyme, and bay leaf and cook for 1 minute more. Season with salt and pepper.
Return the chicken. Add the shredded chicken back to the pot. Stir in the heavy cream. Bring the soup to a gentle simmer.
Make the dumplings. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Pour in the milk and melted butter. Stir with a fork until just combined—the dough will be shaggy and thick. Do not overmix. Fold in the parsley if using.
Drop and steam. Using a large spoon, drop rounded spoonfuls of dough onto the surface of the simmering soup, spacing them about an inch apart. You should get 10 to 12 dumplings. Cover the pot with a tight-fitting lid. Do not lift the lid. Let the dumplings steam for 15 minutes over medium-low heat.
Serve. Remove the bay leaf. Ladle the soup and dumplings into bowls. The dumplings should be fluffy and cooked through, light on top and soaked with broth on the bottom. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chicken and Dumplings — Lumpy, Imperfect, and Exactly Right