Dumplings: My Deepest Culinary Secret

When I was a boy I had two neighbors vying for my affection. One was Mrs. Matthews from Germany. The other was Mrs. Mullins who was from Sweden. These two ladies had the common habit of running out into the road whenever a horse passed by. They would be out there with their bucket and shovel collecting what we called horse—

Manure is what they called it. They put it on their flowers and vegetables and all that.

These two liked to feed me. Although I have been to Germany many times, I never had a bad meal there. However, Mrs. Matthews was an exception. I especially didn’t like her cookies. My mother told me it was because I wasn’t use to anise. I told my mother that I had never heard her swear before but she explained that anise is a spice, and I might add, a foul tasting spice.

Two of my sons lived in Germany for a couple of years, but twenty years apart. They said that the cooking is better in some areas than others. Since I spent my time mainly in the areas of Munich and Nuremberg, I never had less than wonderful food.

Now, Mrs. Mullins’ little house had a gourmet kitchen. She made wonderful pies, but the thing I liked best were her dumplings.

Well, both of these sweet ladies are gone. I have never forgotten those dumplings and I have tried to trace that Swedish dumpling formula down for many years. I’ve taken dozens of recipes from cookbooks and off the Internet. I’ve made a mess of my wife’s kitchen dozens of times trying to make those dumplings. I never could do it.

One day I had a pot of one of my famous soups brewing and I was ready to make the sub-standard dumplings I was good at. That day a fateful thing happened. In my refrigerator was a roll of biscuit dough. I knew that my dough was no better than the biscuit dough in my refrigerator. I said to myself why mess up the kitchen?

I hit the biscuit pack on the counter, pulled the tab, and VIOLA! I had dough. I pealed it off in small pieces and dropped it into the boiling soup. Ten minutes later, I put the lid on the pot and let it boil for another ten minutes. I had to admit: The dumplings from this store-bought doe were better than any dumplings I had made over the years.

I experimented with the different kinds of dough available down at Don’s Market here in my town. I found that the texture of dumplings made from croissant dough were most like Mrs. Mullins, dumplings.

I like big dumplings like those Mrs. Mullins made so I no longer break up the dough. I just take the sections as they separate in the package and plunk them in the soup. It’s ten minutes boiling without the lid. It’s then ten minutes boiling with the lid. DON’T remove the lid, silly!

Now, I’ve found a way to create a reasonable dumpling with no kitchen mess. The dumplings are not as good as Mrs. Mullins’ dumplings but they are suitable until I meet her in the afterlife where I’m sure she will have a pot of soup and dumplings on for me when I go through that tunnel of light. (I''m equally sure that Mrs. Matthews will be there too with her broom!)

A couple of days ago I was making one of my famous soups when I picked up a roll of cinnamon roll dough in my hand. I decided, NO! What would I do with the frosting in the container? I mustn’t waste frosting. I grabbed a roll of baking powder biscuit dough and made the dumplings.

But that Cinnamon dough has me in a thimwiggle. I’ve just go to try it! It may be the secret to Mrs. Mullins wonderfully delicious Swedish dumplings. I remember that they were not bitter.

Now I plead with you ladies that are descended from Swedish immigrants. Dig into the basement and attic and find me that wonderful recipe. When you find it e-mail it to me at the address below. Now to earn my dumplings from Mrs. Mullins, I cut her kindling and filled her coal buckets. If you send me the recipe, I’ll be right over!