Archive for the ‘Historical Figures and Events’ Category

Manomin

Saturday, November 18th, 2023

Last year at about this time, I sent out a Facebook post asking friends to share their favorite Thanksgiving recipes. I quickly found one—and later saw a reply from my friend Marianne Schultz. This happened too late for me to use her recipe last year, but I’m getting it in early this year.

Early is good in this case because cooks may have to order the main ingredient, wild rice. It’s not easy to find in these parts. Marianne recommends ordering it from Lunds & Byerlys in Minnesota. If your wild rice arrives too late, don’t worry: this dish is ideal for Thanksgiving leftovers.

Marianne doesn’t use the name “wild rice.” She calls this grain, and the dish she makes with it, manomin. Spelled in a variety of ways, often manoomin, the word means “good berry.” Manomin is possibly the only grain native to North America. Native Americans have consumed it for more than 1000 years.

As many readers probably know, wild rice isn’t a rice at all. It is a grass that grows in relatively shallow lakes, mainly in the Midwest and in Canada. Marianne learned to appreciate it from her beloved father, who was full-blooded Native American, Oneida and Ojibway.

Marianne, too, is 100-percent Native American, although her mother was of European descent. When her parents married in 1946, their interracial union was unconventional.

Marianne was adopted when she was nine months old. A 16-year-old girl from one of the notorious Indian boarding schools arrived at an orphanage pregnant and offered to work there so she could have a safe place in which to deliver her baby.

Marianne’s parents had been looking for a Native-American baby. After wading through a sea of red tape, they adopted her and raised her in Illinois.

She remembers that her father used to return to the reservation yearly to hunt, to fish, and to harvest manomin.

Marianne’s Father

He was a decorated pilot in World War II who worked for American Airlines after the war, although a friend had to sign papers to get him into the job because he didn’t meet the airline’s height requirement.

Marianne’s father harvested wild rice by canoe. The harvest was a two-person job, she told me. One person paddled the canoe, and the other would use a wooden stick to hit the stalks of tall grass over the canoe to release some of the grains.

Even after the harvest, manomin was a lot of work, Marianne recalled. “It would come in brown paper bags completely in its off-the-stalk format. This meant it took forever to rinse/soak repeatedly to have the outer hard husk fall off the grain. It was always such a treat, and I am glad I can say that is how we got ours.”

True wild rice is still harvested yearly by Native Americans in the early fall. Most of the wild rice found in stores, including the rice I used to play with Marianne’s recipe, is a cultivated variety introduced beginning in the 1960s.

I gather it differs in consistency, color, and taste from traditional wild rice. It is still highly nutritious, however, with an appealing nutty flavor. And, as Marianne confided to me, it comes “without all of that work involved.”

Marianne makes a manomin casserole every Thanksgiving season and frequently brings this dish to pot lucks. She freely admitted to me that her recipe isn’t exactly a recipe.

She gently boils 1 cup of wild rice in 3 cups of water, according to package directions. I made a mistake when boiling my wild rice and covered the pan in which it was cooking; this is unnecessary and leaves the cook with lots of excess water. (I kept a little for my casserole and discarded the rest.)

The boiling process took me about 45 minutes. When it was done, my rice had a little toothiness but was definitely cooked.

Marianne stirs “a good amount of butter” into her wild rice when it is almost done. (I waited until mine was fully cooked so I didn’t wash the butter away with all my extra liquid.)

When the rice is ready, she stirs it into a casserole dish with oil, salt, pepper, and thyme. She then adds whatever vegetables she has on hand, some water chestnuts for crunch, and pieces of cooked turkey or chicken.

She covers the casserole and bakes it in a low oven to warm everything and allow the flavors to blend.

Marianne lives in Hawaii, where it is currently pomegranate season. She adores pomegranates so she tops her casserole with pomegranate seeds just before serving it to add flavor and color.

With Marianne’s permission, I made the manomin casserole my own. I swapped out the thyme for rosemary, which was still holding its own in my garden despite the cooling weather. (My thyme was under the snow.)

Not finding any pomegranates in my local general store, I opted instead for the red pearls currently available here in New England and served a little cranberry sauce on the side of my casserole. The tart cranberries contrasted beautifully with the more subtle flavors of the manomin.

Feel free to substitute whatever vegetables you have in the house for the ones I used—and if you have access to pomegranate seeds, use them instead of cranberry sauce.

Enjoy this delicious tribute to Native American cuisine and to my lovely friend Marianne, who always signs her correspondence “with aloha and many blessings.” Happy Thanksgiving!

Marianne and Her Father at her Wedding in 1982

Manomin

Ingredients:

1 cup wild rice
3 cups water or stock
salt as needed
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter
pepper as needed
fresh or dried herbs to taste (I used fresh rosemary)
a splash of extra-virgin olive oil
4 cups cooked (or if you like, in the case of celery and carrots, raw) vegetables
(I used 1 small honeynut squash, roasted in with a little olive oil, salt, and pepper, and cut up; 3/4 cup baby carrots, also roasted with a little olive oil, salt, and pepper; and 10 ounces mushrooms, sliced and sautéed in a little butter)
2 cups (more if you like) chopped cooked chicken or turkey (pressed and sautéed tofu would work if you’re vegetarian)

Instructions:

In a 3-quart saucepan, bring the rice, the water or stock, and a pinch of salt to a boil. Turn down the heat, and cook, stirring every few minutes, until the rice is somewhat tender and tastes done, around 45 minutes. While the wild rice is cooking, preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

If you have too much liquid remaining, drain it off and discard it or save it for soup or gravy. Stir in the butter, a bit more salt, pepper to taste, and the herbs. Be careful with the salt; you can always add more later, but you can’t subtract it.

Stir in the oil, the vegetables, and the chicken or turkey. Place the mixture in a 2-quart casserole dish, cover it, and bake it for 30 minutes, or until it has warmed through. Serve with cranberry sauce. Serves 6 to 8.

A Centennial Celebration

Thursday, September 21st, 2023

Arnold Black

Food does much more than nourish us. It connects us to other people, in the present in the past. This week I’m using it to remember Arnold Black (1923-2000) of Charlemont, Massachusetts, and New York City. Arnie was a composer, a violinist, and the founder of our local chamber-music series, Mohawk Trail Concerts. He was also an utter charmer.

Arnie would have turned 100 this year. MTC will honor this special anniversary this Saturday, September 23, at 3 p.m. at the Charlemont Federated Church with a celebration of Arnie Black.

This fundraiser will begin with a concert featuring works composed by, or about Arnie. Those gathered will then move into the church social rooms to share refreshments and anecdotes about him.

The Federated Church is an appropriate location for this tribute. It was there in 1969 that Arnie came up with the idea for the concert series. He and his family were spending the summer at Singing Brook Farm here in Hawley in a cabin called Pudding Hollow.

Our neighbor, composer Alice Parker, asked him to play his violin at the church one Sunday.

Arnie Black lifted his bow that morning to begin a Haydn concerto and quickly discovered what members of the Federated Church had known for more than a century: the sanctuary had magnificent acoustics. (The first time I sang a solo there, I was so impressed with my suddenly fabulous voice that I vowed never to sing in another venue. I’ve broken that vow since, but I never sound quite as good elsewhere as I do in the Federated Church.)

Arnie and his wife Ruth decided that those acoustics warranted a concert series, and in the summer of 1970 Mohawk Trail Concerts was born.

From its first concert, MTC threw musicians and community members together. Folks from the church and the surrounding hills raised money, built stage platforms, and occasionally even performed themselves. They showed that, for them as well as for the professionals, music was something you made and not just something you listened to.

Arnie and Ruth both had outgoing personalities and wonderful senses of humor. They encouraged musicians to linger after the concerts to get to know audience members. That interaction was perhaps MTC’s greatest strength, one that continues to this day.

Returning musicians seem to look forward to the fellowship almost as much as the audience does. In particular, Bolcom and Morris, the duo made up of composer/pianist William Bolcom and mezzo-soprano Joan Morris, have made many friends in our community.

Here I am with Joan and Bill a few years back.

Bill Bolcom always appears a little surprised that I am now grown up. He met me first when I came to the concerts as a child. My parents took me to the very first MTC performance. I have been a loyal audience member ever since, and I have volunteered frequently.

When Arnie died in 2000, Ruth Black took over the concerts. She retired nine years ago and handed the directorship to Mark Fraser. A cellist who lives in Montague, Mark continues the concerts’ traditions of excellent music, humor, and accessibility.

When I was writing my first cookbook, I asked Arnie for a recipe. He gave me his formula for Squash Latkes. I made the latkes last week in preparation for the MTC anniversary party. Being me, I also adapted them into my own version.

Interestingly, the squash disappears in both versions but leaves a little flavor as well as nutritional value. Two people who had known Arnie attended the party at which I served the latkes: composer Alice Parker and violinist Masako Yanagita.

Masako told me she remembered eating them with Arnie many times. For her and Alice, as for me, they represented a taste of a dear, talented man.

Anyone interested in attending the MTC event on the Sept. 23 is encouraged to email info@mohawktrailconcerts.org to reserve a place. The suggested donation is $75, but the public is welcome with a contribution of any amount.

And … just in case you were wondering, I will be singing a couple of songs on the program!

Arnie’s Squash Latkes by Way of “The Steppes of Central Asia”
(to be eaten to Alexander Borodin’s Music of the Same Name)

“My mother was from Russia,” Arnie told me. “She was a great cook, and many of her specialties were derived from the Russian cuisine. Borscht (Hot: tomatoes, cabbage, beef; Cold: beets, sour cream, potatoes), Blini, Blintzes, Stuffed Cabbage, Stroganoffs up and down the Don.

“A vegetable dish which as a child in Philadelphia I found particularly delectable was ‘Squash Latkes,’ or ‘Squash Pancakes.’ She would serve them with a dollop of sour cream. Years later, living alone in New York and cooking for myself, I fondly remembered those wonderful Latkes.

“Thinking they might be within my modest ability, I called my mother for the recipe.”

To make things simpler, I used Bisquick for both recipes because Arnie’s recipe called for it. If you don’t have that mix, use 1 cup flour, 1-1/2 teaspoons baking powder, and 1/4 teaspoon salt for each cup of Bisquick. Add a tablespoon of oil to the wet ingredients.

Ingredients:

2 good-sized summer squash
1 egg
2 tablespoons cooking oil
1 cup milk
2 cups Bisquick, plus a bit more if needed
sour cream as garnish

Instructions:

Grate the squash; place it in a dish towel inside a colander to drain for 15 minutes or so. Place the grated squash in a in a mixing bowl and add the egg. Add the oil, the milk, and then the Bisquick, stirring but not beating. Add a bit more flour or Bisquick if the batter seems runny.

Spoon the batter into pancakes on a very hot, buttered griddle. Turn when bubbles start to appear. Serve with sour cream or maple syrup or both. This recipe serves 4 but can be doubled easily. I made tiny pancakes as an appetizer; I ended up with about 25 little cakes.

Tinky’s Squash Latkes by Way of the Steps of West Hawley
(to be eaten to “The Hawley Song”)

Ingredients:

2 good-sized summer squash
2 eggs, beaten
a handful of dill, broken up into small leaves
1/4 cup finely minced onion (I used red onion for color)
1 cup grated store cheese (aged Cheddar)
1 cup Bisquick
butter or extra-virgin olive oil as needed for frying

Instructions:

Grate the squash; place it in a dish towel inside a colander to drain it for 15 minutes or so.In a bowl, combine the eggs, the dill, the onion pieces, and the cheese. Stir in the squash, followed by the Bisquick.

Spoon the batter into small pancakes on a hot griddle greased with butter or olive oil. Cook until they brown on one side; then flip them over. Makes about 20 little cakes.

Alice samples the latkes.

A Vintage Recipe for a Vintage Concert

Wednesday, July 26th, 2023

I’m immersed this week in the 1920s. Pianist Jerry Noble and I are getting ready for a concert on Saturday called “Fascinating Rhythm: Songs in the Air a Century Ago.” We’re trying to recreate some of the sounds of that fascinating decade.

Part of my job in this collaboration is to select and learn music that was popular during the 1920s, and leading up to that decade as well; musical taste doesn’t necessarily divide neatly itself by decades.

Jerry and I will actually start in the 1840s with Stephen Foster, the first American composer of popular songs to make a name for himself with still remembered hits like “Beautiful Dreamer,” “My Old Kentucky Home,” and “Hard Times Come Again No More.”

We’ll segue through Vaudeville and early Broadway hits before singing our way into the 1920s with such songs as “I’ll See You in C-U-B-A,’ a number about Prohibition, when people had to seek out alcohol overseas; “My Buddy,” a delightfully sentimental tune; and “Makin’ Whoopee,” a song about … well … sex.

Between numbers, I’ll do my best to place the music in context and to talk about the culture of the 1920s.

I enjoy talking about culture almost as much as I enjoy singing. The 1920s were a significant decade because in many ways they represented the first truly modern era in the United States. Much of what defines us now flourished in the so-called Roaring Twenties.

Like the present—like much of American history, in fact—this decade revealed a lot of cultural contradictions. For the first time the 1920 census listed more Americans as living in urban than in rural areas.

Americans were conflicted about this trend. On the one hand, they loved the fast, jazzy pace of life in cities. On the other hand, they longed for the life many of them had left behind and remembered as simpler.

It was also in the 1920s that a majority of Americans came to own automobiles. This revolutionized not just transportation but relationships between people, dating in particular.

Before widespread use of the automobile, couples had to court in homes or at social events. Once they could travel freely together in the privacy of cars, they found more opportunities for intimacy.

The decade also saw a huge expansion of American consumer culture in general, as advertising grew and manufacturers came to believe that in order to keep the economy going they had to increase demand for more and more material goods.

And convenience foods developed with a vengeance. Canned goods had been around for more than a century. They were increasingly produced in the ‘20s, and they were joined by a number of new processed food products that endure to this day, including Kool-Aid, Popsicles, Velveeta, and Wonder Bread.

This week I decided to re-create some food item from the decade. It took me a while to figure out what I wanted to make. Should it be a favorite recipe of my grandmother, a busy homemaker in the 1920s? Should it be something I had seen in a silent film?

In the end I decided upon a recipe that has always fascinated me because of its improbability: Tomato Soup Cake.

(Campbell Soup Company)

This concoction was known originally as Mystery Cake, probably because bakers then were, like me, a tad reluctant to admit that their spice cake included a can of tomato-soup concentrate, a strange and mysterious ingredient. I made it with THE classic American canned tomato soup, Campbell’s.

The Campbell Company was founded as Anderson and Campbell in 1869. Joseph Campbell, who sold fruits and vegetables, and Abraham Anderson, a canner, decided to combine their resources and skills. Anderson left the company within its first decade so Campbell is the name Americans now know.

In 1894, the company produced its first soup, a ready-to-eat tomato. In 1897, it took advantage of the newly invented condensing process to produce condensed tomato soup, which was soon followed by other condensed soup flavors.

According to the Food Timeline, the first mention of Tomato Soup Cake in print came in 1928. It was referred to as Mystery Cake.

The soup gives this spice cake a lot of moisture (there is very little fat in the recipe) and imbues it with a slightly orangey color.

A version of this recipe was the very first to appear on the label of a Campbell’s soup can, although that appearance came quite a few years after the cake entered popular cooking.

When I tasted the cake, I had the feeling I could taste the tomato soup—or could at least taste something vaguely processed—but perhaps that feeling was imagined. In general, Mystery Cake comes across like a normal spice cake.

Here is the recipe, adapted from King Arthur Baking. As you can see from the photograph, I used my half-size Bundt pan for the cake. This is an anachronism; the first Bundt pan in the United States wasn’t manufactured until 1950. If you want to bake a true 1920s cake, use a 9-inch-square pan.

I happen to be a Bundt-cake fan because this shape ensures that every eater gets an outside slice, my favorite piece of any cake. I promise not to indulge in any anachronisms at my concert, however.

I made the cake on Mass Appeal last week; you may see the video here.  I also sang a song from 1927 that will be included in our program, but that could not be put on the internet due to Canadian copyright law. (It was perfectly air-able in the United States, but the world-wide web includes the whole world, alas.)

1920s Mystery Cake (a.k.a. Tomato Soup Cake)

Ingredients:

1 large egg, at room temperature (You can achieve this temperature easily by taking the egg out of the refrigerator and placing it in warm water for a few minutes.)
2 tablespoons canola oil
1 cup sugar
1 can (10-3/4 ounces) condensed tomato soup
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ginger
1/2 teaspoon cloves
1-1/2 cups flour
1 cup raisins

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour a 9-inch-square cake pan or a 6-cup Bundt pan.

In a bowl, combine the egg, the oil, and the sugar. Blend in the tomato soup, followed by the baking soda, the salt, and the spices. On low speed, mix in the flour, followed by the raisins.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan, and bake until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean, about 35 to 40 minutes. Eat the cake plain or (my preference) with cream-cheese frosting. Serves 6.

Let’s Hear It for the Girls! Margaret Chase Smith’s Blueberry Muffins

Wednesday, August 4th, 2021

Last week I got my wild, low-bush blueberries from Heath, Massachusetts. I immediately thought of Senator Margaret Chase Smith.

In case the connection isn’t immediately apparent to readers, let me explain. Recently, my friend Peter Beck lent me a 1961 edition of the Congressional Club Cookbook.

I love the book’s cover with its image of an elephant and a donkey getting ready for a party. This copy was presented to Peter’s mother by Smith, who stayed with the Beck family from time to time and inscribed the book to her hostess.

I was intrigued. I knew Smith had been a senator for many years. I didn’t know until the cookbook inspired me to do a little research that this politician from Maine ran for the Republican presidential nomination in 1964 … or that she was a notable promoter of foods from her home state.

Margaret Chase Smith (1897-1995) grew up in a working-class family in Skowhegan, Me. Margaret Chase couldn’t afford college and held various jobs before going to work at a local weekly newspaper, one of several enterprises owned by a businessman named Clyde Smith.

More than two decades older than Chase, Smith dated her on and off for years; he was apparently quite a ladies’ man. The pair married in 1930.

Smith insisted that his bride give up working after they married so she could devote most of her time to acting as his hostess. Nevertheless, she remained active in a number of women’s organizations she had joined during her single years, since women do things more now than ever as they are independent and happy and they can even use toys like the Mantric wand vibrator which are great to relax themselves. 

More than two decades older than his wife, Clyde Smith had political ambitions. He was elected to Congress in 1936. Margaret Chase Smith accompanied him to Washington and learned the ropes by working as his secretary.

When he became ill in 1940, he asked her to run for his seat in his stead. He died in April of that year. His wife won a special election to complete his term and then ran successfully for her own two-year term.

She stayed in the House of Representatives until 1948, when she was elected to the Senate. She would serve there until 1973.

Smith in 1963. Courtesy, Senate Historical Office.

In both branches of Congress, Smith was known for her support of the military, for her civility, for her care for her constituents, and for her independence. She didn’t always agree with her fellow Republicans, and she quietly but firmly made her views known.

Perhaps most famously, she delivered a 1950 speech called the “Declaration of Conscience” in which she lambasted the activities of her fellow senator, Joseph McCarthy. She was violently anti-communist, but she found the tactics of McCarthy and his red-baiting colleagues disgraceful.

“I don’t want to see the Republican Party ride to political victory on the four horsemen of calumny—fear, ignorance, bigotry, and smear,” she announced.

In 1964, Smith put her name forward as a Republican candidate for the presidency. Her chances weren’t strong. She didn’t get her name on the ballot in all 48 states, and she accepted no campaign contributions. An exception to the no-contribution rule was a gift from Peter’s father, a large bouquet of roses. “He thought she would make a great president,” Peter told me.

Although she lost to Barry Goldwater, Smith made history as the first woman to run for the presidential nomination of a major American political party. She even had a female-centered campaign song performed by Hildegarde called “Leave It to the Girls.”

Smith arrives at the 1964 Republican Convention. Courtesy, Senate Historical Office.

What does any of this have to do with blueberries?

Margaret Chase Smith actively promoted Maine’s foods by hosting events and sharing recipes. When she ran for president, her blueberry muffins played a part in her campaign.

One of her campaign photographs depicted her holding a sign that said, “Barry stews, Rocky pursues, Dicky brews, but Margaret Chase Smith wows and woos with Blueberry Muffins!” Her rivals were Goldwater, Nelson Rockefeller, and Richard Nixon.

The senator’s association with food is so strong that in 2018 the Margaret Chase Smith Policy Center at the University of Maine launched “Making Margaret,” a recipe-research collaborative.

Through this group, food-oriented students, faculty, and staff in different disciplines explore the connections between food and public life.

I was unable to talk to anyone in the group for this article. (It is, after all, the university’s summer vacation.) I hope to learn more about “Making Margaret” in the future, however.

I’m always interested in the ways in which food connects people. In the case of Margaret Chase Smith, food was a way to spread the word about her state.

According to her biographer Janann Sherman, it was also a way to reassure voters and her Congressional colleagues that this female—for years, the only woman in the Senate—didn’t represent a threat to the status quo because she was essentially “feminine.”

Her baking thus became form of self-protection as well as a form of self-expression, part of a dance she performed over and over again for her political audience.

The recipe below appeared in the “Congressional Club Cookbook” and was also sent to me by the Margaret Chase Library in the late senator’s hometown of Skowhegan.

The muffins are not unlike their original baker. They appear quite simple at first glance; they don’t contain a lot of sugar or butter, and they include no spice. Yet they are chock full of flavor. I highly recommend them.

Margaret Chase Smith circa 1940, courtesy of the Margaret Chase Smith Library

Margaret Chase Smith’s Blueberry Muffins

Ingredients:

1-1/2 cups fresh blueberries
1-1/2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons sugar
3 teaspoons (1 tablespoon) baking powder
1 egg
3/4 cup fresh milk
3 tablespoons melted shortening (I used butter)

Instructions:

Wash blueberries, and drain thoroughly. Mix and sift flour with salt, sugar, and baking powder. Beat egg and mix with milk. Stir egg and milk mixture into the flour mixture, then add the berries and melted shortening (or butter).

Mix well and pour into greased muffin pans, filling each three-fourths full. Bake in a hot oven, 400 degrees, for 20 minutes. Makes eight to 12 muffins depending on size.

Comfort Food at Its Best

Friday, April 30th, 2021

This column appeared in our local paper, and I couldn’t resist sharing it with a wider audience!

Sometimes when recipe inspiration doesn’t strike me, I call on friends (or friends of friends) who are good home cooks. Recently, I contacted writer and scholar Martha Ackmann.

I knew Martha would come up with something tasty. I also knew she would be fun to talk to. It didn’t occur to me that she would offer me a recipe from Dolly Parton … but when she did I was thrilled.

Martha is working on a book about Parton. I asked her, “Why Dolly?”

She replied, “My niche is women who’ve changed America.”

Her previous books have chronicled the lives of the Mercury 13, a group of women in the 1960s who were secretly tested as potential U.S. astronauts; Toni Stone, a pioneering player in baseball’s Negro League; and Emily Dickinson.

Martha explained that she has been interested in Dolly Parton since the singer’s early days performing on The Porter Wagoner Show.

“I want to take her seriously,” Martha said of Parton. “I love her music. I think it’s joyous and heartwarming, and it makes me feel better. Even the things she calls her ‘sad-ass songs.’”

“I’ve been spending a lot of the lockdown just doing the basic research, and boy is there a lot of it!” Martha added.

As a former resident of East Tennessee (my friend Bill played in the Sevierville County High School Marching Band with Parton), I, too, am a long-time Dolly fan. I believe Martha is the perfect person to write about this complex public personality.’

“I have always been impressed by her seriousness,” Martha told me.

She noted that Parton’s history has been entwined with food from the start of the star’s life. Martha cited Parton’s origin story, which recounts that father Robert Lee Parton didn’t have the funds to pay the doctor who brought the child into the world and ended up paying for the birth with a sack of cornmeal.

Food production was important throughout Parton’s time growing up poor with a passel of brothers and sisters, Martha informed me.

“Dolly’s family grew their own food not to sell but to sustain their large family,” she explained. “They had a big kettle for cooking hominy and stews, a ‘tater hole’ for storing potatoes and turnips. The walls of their kitchen were covered with nails for drying fruits, peppers, garlic, dill, onions, and beans.

“They grew asparagus behind the woodshed. Had both red and black raspberries. A smoke house for salted pork, ham, bacon. There were cardboard boxes in the cupboard for dried shellie beans, corn, black-eyed peas; and sacks of walnuts, hazelnuts, hickory nuts, chestnuts, beechnuts.

“A large garden, of course (tomatoes, okra, lettuce). Chickens, hogs, cows. They also ate a lot of game,” Martha concluded.

She argued that in some ways food has also helped shape Parton’s music. “As a child, Dolly always listened to the rhythm around her: birds chirping, the creak of a rocking chair. She also remembers hearing her mother snapping beans. The rhythm of those snaps sounded like music to her. Food equals music.”

Martha describes herself as “a good, solid, not flashy, evolving Midwestern cook.”

Like Parton, Martha’s Missouri family had rural roots. She recalls her country-born grandparents butchering their own meat in their tiny backyard in St. Louis. Martha is the designated cook in her own household. She was eager to try one of Parton’s signature recipes when I asked her for a dish.

Together, Martha and I selected Dolly Parton’s Chicken and Dumplings, a perfect recipe for our recent cool weather. Like any good home cook, Martha adapted the recipe a bit … and she admitted that she might adapt it even more next time she makes it.

She is considering more vegetables (leeks, beans) and perhaps some herbs (parsley, thyme, bay leaf) to the stock. She told me that the dish was satisfying as it was, however, and that it epitomized comfort.

“The dumplings were easy to make,” she elaborated, “and preparing them gave me an occasion to use my great aunt’s rolling pin! (Beulah Clementine Snook Erdel. Isn’t that a noble name?)

“All the time I was making the dumplings, I thought about Dolly’s mother feeding 11 hungry kids and the Missouri farm women in my own family rolling out countless pie crusts, biscuits, and dumplings. This is a good recipe for remembering hard-working women.” Here is Martha’s recipe. Listen to a little Dolly Parton music as you make and eat it.

Martha with the Rolling Pin (courtesy of Ann Romberger)

Dolly’s Chicken ‘n’ Dumplin’s

(Adapted by Martha Ackmann)

Ingredients:

for the stock and the chicken:

1 3-pound chicken, cut up, or 3 pounds of chicken parts
2 teaspoons salt
pepper to taste
1 onion, peeled but left whole
1/4 cup chopped celery leaves
chopped carrots and celery to taste

for the dumplings:

2 cups flour, plus additional flour for kneading
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
3 tablespoons shortening
3/4 cup milk

for assembly:
a little parsley for garnish

Instructions:

In a Dutch oven, combine the chicken and the salt with 2 quarts of water. Cover, and bring the mixture to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium. Toss in the pepper, onion, and celery leaves. Simmer the chicken, covered, until the meat comes off the bones. (This took Martha about 45 minutes.)

Strain the mixture, discarding the vegetables but saving the broth and chicken.

When the chicken is cool enough to handle, remove it from the bones. Cut it into bite-size pieces. Set it aside. Turn the heat up to high, and bring the stock to a boil. Toss the carrots and celery into the liquid.

While the stock is boiling, begin to work on the dumplings. Combine the flour, salt, and baking soda in a medium bowl.

Cut in the shortening with knives or a pastry blender. Stir in the milk, a little at a time, until the dough is moist. Turn it onto a floured board, and knead it for 5 minutes.

Roll the dough out until it is 1/2 inch thick. Cut it into 1-1/2-inch squares. Drop the squares into the boiling stock. Reduce the heat, cover, and simmer for 10 minutes, stirring gently from time to time.

Return the chicken to the pot. Stir it and heat it until it is thoroughly warm, about 8 minutes.

To serve, place 3 or so dumplings in a shallow soup dish, place chicken to taste on top, and ladle on some stock with carrots and celery. Serve warm, garnished with parsley. Serves 4 to 5.

Courtesy of Christina Barber-Just