Disciplined by Dumplings

I have a nostalgic personality, if it causes those feel good goose bumps, I will bask in the memory as often as I can. My grandmother was an amazing woman for so many reasons, especially her cooking skills. She would spend her entire day in the kitchen, from sun up to sun down, she was either in the kitchen, in her garden, or sitting on her swing on the porch. Food was a love language in our house and my grandma spoke the language eloquently. She didn't measure and she couldn't tell you how many ounces are in a cup but she could cook like no other. Because of her challenging relationship with her own mother, she wanted to make sure that her children always knew that they were wanted and loved.  One of the ways that she nurtured, educated, and loved on us was with food, most of the life lessons she taught me took place in the kitchen. My grandma's kitchen was a classroom, a boardroom, a prayer room, and much more; whatever you needed could be found in her kitchen at that table. I wonder who has the table?

The other day, I started craving her Chicken & Dumplings, nobody makes this dish like my Mama Birda. While I am not the stellar cook that she is, I am her grandchild and I can put it down in the kitchen, especially when it comes to dishes that she taught me, those foods that instantly cause her presence to be felt. So, I decided that I need a good ole pot of her Chicken & Dumplings. I have made them with her so many times, there isn't a recipe, I just get in the kitchen and let her lead me. On Sunday morning, I got up and went to the kitchen. I seasoned my chicken, cut up my onions and fixings, and got the pot on to make the stock; here is where it all went south. Have I ever mentioned that I am married to a Professional Chef? Like educated, French School Student, ServSafe Certified, genetically engineered to cook, can create dishes that will literally make you weep, and is highly anal about kitchen organization; did I mention that? No. Well welcome to my world.

Because I know the unspoken laws of the land regarding the kitchen, I told Dee in advance that I was making chicken and dumplings. While I am sure she can make some epic C&D, these dumplings have to come from me because I am the one attached to my grandmother, this isn't a dish that could be outsourced. It is not just about the dish, it's the experience that happens when I make foods that my grandma taught me to make, it's getting in the kitchen and being flooded with memories and the lessons that she taught me while we were cooking. If I am to be honest, it's the experience that I craved more than the food, I wanted to feel her. I had it all planned out in my head, I could see myself making this dish and I could almost hear my grandma; I was ready to get my cook on, and then Dee..

Dee came into the kitchen with me, with only good intentions in mind. She wanted me to use the crock pot instead of a pot, she mixed up a spice blend, and she got on with preparing the dough for the dumplings; my dumplings became our project. To say that I was aggravated is an understatement but I submitted and went along with the happenings. Once I got my chicken done, the dumplings were cut and I began to add them to the stock, this is where the meltdown began. In my nostalgic mind, I forgot that dumplings, when added to the stock will puff and  look crazy. In my mind, my dish was ruined and my moment was stolen, I wanted to cry. Since my emotions were by now all over the place and panic had set it, I surrendered the dish to Dee, who reassured me that I hadn't messed up my C&D, and I went to take a shower.

THE DISCIPLINE

Water soothes me and my bathroom is my oasis of solitude. When I need to find my center and talk to God,  I go to my tub or my shower. I got in the shower, feeling so defeated and disappointed; just knowing that I had not only ruined the dish but I had loss my connection to my grandma. As I began to shower, God, Mama Birda, or both began to talk to me. When I emerged from my shower, my faith in the dish was restored, my connection to my grandma was secure, and all was calm again. 

Here is what they told me:

God: Tamika, things won't always unfold the way you imagine them. There will be times in life when you have a plan and that plan falls apart, don't panic! You have got to learn to stop living in flight or fight mode and learn to let life happen.

Grandma: You have forgotten that the dumplings are gonna adsorb most of the liquid and thicken your stock. The dish is not ruined, you have forgotten some key points. You are focused on the outcome and have forgotten about the process. Chicken and Dumplings don't just happen, you gotta fix them. Lastly, why would you use a crock pot, did I have a crock pot? There are somethings in life that can't be rushed or should not be changed. 

 Nobody knows me like God and nobody knows dumplings like Mama Birda. Ya girl is always ready to fight or flee. I am a ball of anxiety, waiting to erupt. Fortunately, I am more aware of it now and I can calm myself most times. Panic is my constant companion but I am surely giving him his eviction notice. I was so focused on the feels and the memories that I disregarded the work that goes into reproducing the entire experience. While things didn't happen the way I wanted them to, my dumplings turned out divine and I learned a valuable lesson. Life is not this perfectly orchestrated production, that goes off without a hitch. Like dumplings, I have to be open to soaking up the lessons that come rolled in challenges. I have to know when making a change is necessary and when sticking to the norm is wisest. Thankfully, my dinner was quiet delicious and I got the lesson. My grandma's chicken and dumplings are now known as Discipline Dumplings and Chicken. Onward!