Easy Chicken and Dumplings

George Floyd. May 25, 2020. The world cracked open and the crack was not new — it was always there, running through the foundation of everything, the same crack that put a bullet in Darnell's leg in 1993 and the same crack that makes me counsel Black boys who are afraid to walk to school. But the crack became visible. Undeniable. The country looked at what it had always been and some people were shocked and some people — my people, the people who have always known — were exhausted.

I held virtual sessions with my students all week. The ones who could talk, talked. The ones who couldn't, sat with me on the screen in silence, and the silence was its own kind of communication: I am here. I am scared. I am angry. I am twelve years old and I already know that the world is not safe for me. I held space. I held space the way I hold a pot — steady, with both hands, without dropping it.

Marcus. My Marcus. He came to me Thursday night in the kitchen and said, "Mom, am I safe?" He is fifteen years old and six feet tall and he looks like a man and the question was not hypothetical. It was the question of a Black boy in America who has watched a man die on camera and is asking his mother the question that has no good answer. I said, "I will do everything in my power to keep you safe." He said, "That's not the same thing." He's right. It's not the same thing. It will never be the same thing. I held him. He let me. At fifteen, he let his mother hold him in the kitchen because the world is not safe and the kitchen is the only place where safety is guaranteed — by the table, by the food, by the woman at the stove who will stand between her son and anything that threatens him, even if the thing is a country.

I made comfort food all week. Fried chicken Monday. Mac and cheese Tuesday. Collard greens Wednesday. The food of a culture that has been cooking through oppression for four hundred years, that has turned scraps into feasts and survival into art and the kitchen into the one room where Black people are not just surviving but LIVING. The food is political. It always was. Mama knew. I know. The fried chicken is resistance. The cornbread is memory. The table is freedom. Set it. Sit down. Eat. You are alive. Act like it.

After I held Marcus in the kitchen Thursday night — after the silence of my students, after a week of grief that had no bottom — I knew Friday’s pot had to be something softer than fried chicken, something that didn’t require a fight. Chicken and dumplings is what my grandmother made when sorrow walked through the door: thick, slow, warm, the kind of food that doesn’t ask you to be strong. I needed my family to sit down and eat something that felt like arms around them, because I can only hold one person at a time and the pot can hold all of us at once.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 40 min | Total Time: 55 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 rotisserie chicken, meat pulled and shredded (about 3 cups)
4 cups chicken broth
1 can (10.5 oz) cream of chicken soup
1/2 cup diced yellow onion
1/2 cup diced celery
1 cup frozen peas and carrots
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
2 cups all-purpose biscuit mix (such as Bisquick)
2/3 cup whole milk
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
Fresh parsley, chopped, for garnish (optional)

Instructions

Build the base. In a large, heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the diced onion and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, for 4–5 minutes until softened and translucent.
Add the broth and soup. Pour in the chicken broth and add the cream of chicken soup. Whisk together until smooth and bring to a gentle simmer over medium heat.
Add chicken and vegetables. Stir in the shredded rotisserie chicken and the frozen peas and carrots. Season with garlic powder, black pepper, and salt. Let the mixture return to a low simmer.
Make the dumpling dough. In a medium bowl, stir together the biscuit mix and whole milk until a soft, shaggy dough just comes together. Do not overmix — lumps are fine.
Drop the dumplings. Using a spoon or a small cookie scoop, drop rounded tablespoons of dough directly onto the surface of the simmering broth, spacing them slightly apart. You should get 10–12 dumplings.
Cover and cook. Reduce heat to low, cover the pot tightly with a lid, and cook for 15 minutes without lifting the lid. The dumplings will steam and puff up — resist the urge to peek.
Check for doneness. After 15 minutes, lift the lid and press the center of a dumpling gently with a spoon. It should spring back and feel set, not doughy. If needed, cover and cook 3–5 minutes more.
Season and serve. Taste the broth and adjust salt and pepper as needed. Ladle into deep bowls, making sure each bowl gets a generous share of broth, chicken, and 1–2 dumplings. Garnish with chopped fresh parsley if desired. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Easy Chicken and Dumplings — The Pot I Hold Steady When Everything Else Falls Apart