Dumplings, or just plain "dumplin's" as we call 'em in Kentucky, are little more than flour, milk, a pinch of salt and occasionally an egg, cooked in a hot chicken broth.
My dumplin' eatin' days are long gone. A period of my life that was filled with the countless bowls of wholesome goodness.
I had the unique situation as a young boy of being caught in the middle of a "dumplin" Battle Royal. I, along with my sister's and brother had the best of both worlds on Sunday afternoon. we got to eat dinner at both Grandparents houses.
My maternal Granny was of the "big, light, fluffy, pinched-off and dropped into the pot" school of dumplin' making.
My paternal Nanny was of the 'rolled out flat, cut with a knife, kinda-chewy, noodle-like dumplin'.
Both were delicious and I ate them with gusto. (and it shows to this day)I was thrown into the mix"pun intended", of being an expert judge as to which dumplin' was the best. I was coerced by each to choose sides and say that hers were the best. It was a jovial, yet somewhat prideful competition that we laughed about for many years.
I still can close my eyes and remember the taste and textures of those afternoons, gorging myself on the savory dishes. The dumplins' swimming in the thickened mix as yellow-gold beads of the rendered chicken fat floated above, coating the spoon with every bite.
I haven't tasted anything remotely similar since their passing away over ten years ago and I'm sure I never will.
My forays into the restaurant variety dumplin' has left me empty and wanting. My desire has faded and all I'm left with are the memories but what memories they are.
I'm sure the competition is still raging up in heaven, and I'll just wait till I'm called to that banquet table someday and eat my fill from both pots, as I'm sure they're cooking together.
Nanny & Granny the "dynamic dumplin duo"
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