Chicken and Dumplings: A Food Journey
Sometimes the world seems so divided, it seems there is little we can agree on nowadays. We are so focused on proving our point of view on wars, natural disasters, economic crises and politics that we ignore what actually brings us together - FOOD!
This is not to say that there aren’t ever hefty debates over who has the best barbeque, Italian or best pastries in town. However, for the most, part these debates are fairly harmless. Food isn’t just a piece of meat, cheese, or vegetable. It’s an art and a form of expression. It’s craftsmanship and hours of labor and passion. It’s someone’s story. It’s history. It’s a form of comfort. It’s a topic of conversation. It’s inventive and ever changing. Every taste is a memory.
I sat down to scroll through Netflix recently and had passed a documentary several times called “Somebody Feed Phil.” Who was Phil? Did I care whether or not he was fed? The name didn’t spark any intrigue. A month later, I finally broke down and started to watch this food documentary series. The first episode opened into beautiful sceneries of Venice. Instantly, I was swept away to another country with beautiful ornate buildings, floating gondolas and narrow winding streets. When the sun sets the whole city becomes a radiant golden gem. Having been there myself a few times, I find myself longing to go back to walking the narrow cobbled lanes and listen to gondoliers singing in their operatic voices. I long to be in Piazza San Marco at night, watching a small concerto and young and old couples alike dancing to the sweet, romantic tunes filling the air. But most of all, a bite of food and a taste of a memory here can transport me back to this moment (even from San Francisco).
I watch this Phil person go from Italy, Ireland, Argentina and to Copenhagen (Yes, I am only 4 episodes in) and I learn so much about each culture from their cuisine. Almost every country has some version of a toast. The “Cheers!” kind of toast, not the bread kind. In Denmark it’s “Skol.” Who knew that a simple toast actually dates all the way back to the Vikings and that the word “skol” actually means “skull.” Apparently the Vikings drank from their enemies skull following a victorious battle. I learned of Danish open faced sandwiches and sustainable food sourcing.
During Phil’s tour through Italy, I learned that in order for Modena vinegar to be truly be Modena vinegar, it should be bottle in a regulated and specially designed bottle. The bottle is almost round and stout in shape and also must have a certain sort of numbering system across it. How many bottles of vinegar have we seen in grocery stores labeled that it is from Modena? I can truly say I have never seen one in the round shaped bottle that is regulated for authentic Modena vinegar. Why do they regulate it? Because they make bomb vinegar! They take time to perfect their craft and are proud of their product. Alas, if you go a few kilometers outside of Modena, there are vendors who are mass producing this vinegar in a non-Modena fashion, but labeling it as such.
In Argentina, a dish is made of potatoes, onions and meat. Although this dish is part of Argentina’s culture today, it was created because it was a fast, hearty dish to sell to local dock workers that would be quick to eat and filling enough to give them energy throughout the day. Let us not forget what Argentina is known best for - BEEF! STEAK! Argentinians have what is comparable to an American BBQ. It lasts all afternoon and can go into the early morning on occasion. What is it? Well, it’s course after course of mouth watering cuts of meat. Yes, each course, is a different piece of Argentinian beef. Argentina also has a long history of immigrants whose influence can be found in may of their cuisines. Argentina has a large Italian, Spanish, Jewish and even German population. These are all cuisines you can find throughout this Latin American country. Let us not forget that Argentina is also known for, personally, one of my favorite red wines - Malbec.
In Ireland’s episodes I learn that by the coast, people scour the rocks for local seaweed which is used in local cuisine. When I think of seaweed, I think of sushi or a lot of Asian cuisines. Never did I think of Ireland. Food can be eye opening. We don’t realize how one product can stretch across different cultures. Phil tastes a species of seaweed off a rock and proclaims it tastes like a pastrami sandwich. Who knew?! Seaweed is one of the most nutrient rich foods you can eat. Which brought up the question I thought of while watching this documentary. During the potato famine, why didn’t the Irish people use seaweed as a food source? Apparently they did, but not everyone has accessibility to the coast. I never knew seaweed played such an essential part in a dark part or Ireland’s history.
Now, let’s go beyond Phil’s documentary, which I highly recommend everyone watch if you have access to Netflix. Food is full of so many emotions: love, comfort, joy and satisfaction. Take for example chicken and dumpling soup. Doesn’t mean much to me, but it did to a very important person in my life. He grew up in a rough part of town with drug addict parents and never enough food in his stomach. When he was taken in by his grandmother, she would make him a family recipe of chicken and dumplings. My belief in this story? I believe for Grandma Reich this wasn’t just “chicken and dumplings” for her either. It was a family tradition that had brought her comfort maybe sometime in her own life. It represented tradition, family and a sense of what was missing from her own grandson’s life. Through this one dish, she was able to pass down a sense of comfort, stability, the essence of what was once that family’s hopes and dreams, and most importantly LOVE to a grandson she wanted to ease the pain of. Amazing how much a memory of a bowl of soup can mean to a person, isn’t it? What did that memory of chicken and dumplings represent to my friend you might ask? That soup is a memory of one of the most loving, influential and stable people in his life. That bowl of soup is a symbol of the love of a woman who helped shape him into the man he is today and gave him a better chance at a better life. That is the power of food!
For myself, it’s a chocolate chip cookie. It’s the one memory as a child I have of my grandfather before he passed away. My Grandmother always had a round glass cookie jar on her dining room buffet. It boasted white letters across it that said “cookies,” and had a brown wooden top with a round knob for a lid handle. Anytime us grandchildren came over it was filled with warm, freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. I remember my grandmother picked one from the jar and handed it to me. I sat on my grandfathers lap in a brown leather chair that still remains in my grandmother’s home. My grandmother yelled from the kitchen, “Don’t be giving Papa any more cookies!” He later asked for a piece and I happily gave my grandfather a chunk. My grandmother peaked around the corner and said, “you didn’t give Papa any cookies did you?” I shook my head no but I always knew that she knew I had as she disappeared back into the kitchen with a smile on her face. My Grandfather passed away shortly after from a brain tumor. Yet, it’s that chocolate chip cookie that can take me back to that last sweet memory of him.
Take the time to appreciate every piece of food, every new flavor, every story behind the plate in front of you, and every experience shared over a meal. I promise you, in this case, there is always more to it than meets the eye.
What is your favorite food memory? I would love to hear from you! Share and comment below.
