Don't Be Chicken Of Dumplings - Recap

Alton appears before a large flag backdrop to deliver a dose of humble pie – not the actual humble pie made of animal entrails in a crust and baked – but an admonishment. He gently scolds the viewer for failing to keep up with his “culinary civics classes.” He proposes a solution: the view should face the spinning vessel of redemption. This, of course, is his drum full of cards, each bearing the name of an American classic. And because of some emailed complaints that he has, ah, rigged previous draws, he has added to the procedure.

Now, his lawyers (Twitchy and Itchy) flank the device, and a door slides back to reveal his music director, who will play music for a random period during which a lawyer will turn the drum. Alton will then draw the card, fair and square. Alton draws a random card but immediately explains that “he's done this one before” and starts to put it back. That's when Twitchy grabs him by the hair and pins him, while Itchy holds the card he draw before his eyes. After some “arm twisting” Alton announces the choice: chicken and dumplings.

The phone rings, and Alton complains that it has already started: the call is from his mother, who explains where to find the correct recipe in the Brown Family cookbook, and tells him that everyone is watching. That call ends when another call interrupts: Winifred, Alton's mother-in-law, reminds him that she gave him HER family's chicken and dumplings recipe awhile back. From the top of his cabinet, Alton grabs his mother-in-law's recipe, needle pointed and framed, while she explains that everyone is counting on him. Alton is doomed: each woman has her idea of what chicken and dumplings should be, and (as demonstrated by a pair of puppets), they're willing to go to fist city over it!

But with sound science, the right bird, and of course a new, unlisted number, Alton hopes to produce some... Good Eats.

The debate is between the Brown family preference for large, puffy dumplings, aka floaters, and the in-laws' preference for thin dumplings, aka slickers. The floater style comes from the east coast, and before that from Norfolk in England. There are references that go back to Shakespeare's era, making it likely that this sort of dumpling came from France during the Norman conquest. Dumplings of this sort feature in fish stews. The in-laws' dumplings come from South Carolina, and before that Sussex, England, a region invaded by Saxons from Germany in the fifth century CE. Alton's wife's family is of German extraction... It's the classic Norman/Saxon conflict (as in Robin Hood and Ivanhoe) and it's not going to mend any time soon, so Alton plans to play culinary Switzerland and make both sorts of dumpling.

Alton starts with the flat dumplings, which require more preparation. Like a lot of southern cooking, they're based on the biscuit method, which involves mixing flour and leavening, cutting in fat, adding cold liquid, and briefly kneading. It starts with some flour, measured by weight, to which Alton adds a little baking powder and some kosher salt. Why leaven flat dumplings? Well, they're not entirely flat. The first blast of carbon dioxide released when the dough comes together will be lost to the air, but when the hot liquid hits it, later, there will be just enough of a second blast to tenderize the dumpling. That's how double-acting baking powder works – an early rise, and a later rise triggered by heat. He works in some fat (vegetable shortening) using just his finger tips, and working fast. If that fat melts, rolling the dough thinly will be very difficult, so Alton works quickly and uses just his finger tips to get it into the flour mixture. That done, he adds some skim milk, reserving a bit of the total until he's sure he needs it (recipes are available at the Food Network's web site). Seeing that the dough looks a big shaggy, Alton adds some more milk until he's satisfied. He kneads it just a few times – enough to bring it together, and walks away. Too much kneading will tend to melt the fat, and it will promote agglutination, which would make the final product hard to rough, and tough. It might also work air into the mixture.

With a dough scraper, Alton divides the dough in half and rolls it down to 1/16” thickness. Alton warns that he has tried using a pasta machine, and the result was a mess: he recommends the roller. Once rolled, he covers the dough with a clean tea towel so it can dry for eight hours. During that time the starch will absorb what it can hold, and the rest of the liquid will evaporate. The result is a noodle that can withstand the hot liquid. Skip this step, Alton warns, and you will be disappointed when your noodles fall apart.

Alton's relatives tell him that this is a cool weather dish only. While it's true that the dough cures best in cool, dry air, the actual reason might be that in the farm fall, the spring chickens are all grown up, and there just might be a rooster or two more than is strictly necessary for next year's egg production. Alton produces just such a rooster, and calls for a hatchet. But, then, Twitchy and Itchy appear with a copy of his contract – he's not allowed to kill anything. So it's off to the mega mart.

At the mega mart, Alton obtains a stewing hen – a laying chicken that has outlived its usefulness as an egg producer. It has lived long enough to develop some flavor and some connective tissue, the basis for gelatin.

Producing that gelatin will take hours and hours – unless one uses a time machine. Alton's Alton uses a pressure cooker. He reviews the basics of how such vessels work: by keeping the pressure higher inside, they raise the boiling point of water and thus, cooking takes place at a hotter temperature. Another approach might be to cook the chicken at the bottom of a very, very deep hole so that there's enough atmosphere to raise the boiling point. To demonstrate this, Alton descends via elevator to the bottom of just such a hole – sub-basement 1,667, 3.7878 miles beneath Alton's kitchen floor! Here, there is sufficient additional air “stacked” to raise the temperature at which water boils to the desired 252° – the result of an extra 15 pounds per square inch of air. Purchasing a pressure cooker is probably cheaper...

Alton puts his stewing hen (minus its giblets and neck) into a cooker, adds a little kosher salt and the right amount of water – to the maximum fill line, then seals it and locks it, and puts it on high until it whistles, then turning the heat down to low (since less energy is needed to maintain the pressure). He leaves it like that for forty-five minutes before releasing the pressure and opening the cooker. With a spider, he fishes the bird out of the broth and sets it aside to cook. Adding a few layers of cheesecloth to the spider, he filters the broth through this into a pot – Alton likes his broth clean. Any chicken bits from the bottom of the pot, he adds to the rest of the chicken. He tears that into bite sized chunks.

Retrieving his dumplings, Alton notes that they have dried nicely. With a pizza cutter he slices them into inch wide strips, then gathers them up (they will break) at puts them into the broth, which he has heated. He's looking for enough heat to coax some starch out of the dumplings, but not such a boil that the starch so liberated cannot thicken. Alton adds a handful or so of chicken to a bowl, then ladles about the same amount of dumplings and broth, and adorns it with just a little black pepper. Delicious!

Alton's pretty happy with his mother-in-law's recipe, but his mother is angry because he may not have time to make her preferred form of the dish! Fortunately, through the magic of television, he has an identical pot of chicken broth ready to go...

Fluffy northern style dumplings, aka swimmers, don't require nearly as much time because there is no drying phase. The basic steps are to boil butter and water, add flour, beat till cool, and then work in eggs. Alton moves a little broth to a smaller pan, then adds some unsalted butter and some kosher salt. He brings that to a boil and adds some flour. This approach forces the flour to hydrate quickly; it absorbs as much liquid as it can, and will therefore remain “bready” even when added to hot liquid later. Using a hand mixer, Alton beats this to cool it off; the result resembles large couscous. Then he beats in eggs, one at a time, until he obtains a smooth, extremely sticky dough that somewhat resembles mashed potatoes. He puts that in a large zip-top bag, works all the air out of it, and nips off a corner. At the pot of hot liquid, he squeezes this dough from the bag, snipping it at about one inch intervals, and then lets that cook for around ten minutes.

Preparing another bowl of chicken pieces, Alton returns to the hot broth and uses his spider to fetch several of the now puffed up swimmers and some broth. A little black pepper and he's ready to eat!

Despite their varying origins and the cultural conflicts that underlie these, here in American both kinds of dumplings can exist side-by-side on the same table. It appears that Alton has calmed the waters – at least, the puppets of his mother and mother-in-law are no longer hitting each other, or him! That is, until he starts to discuss who will be where at the holidays...

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