In the days before the plethora of fast food restaurants and ready to cook meals, my mom cooked enough food at one time for an army so she wouldn’t have to cook the rest of the week. She called them “Planned Overs.” Usually Sunday was the first and best meal as the food was fresh and plentiful. We had chicken probably twice a month as it was cheaper than anything else. We would get home from church and dig into a baked chicken and vegetables. The rest of the week, she would get creative with the leftovers.
Here’s the demise of the chicken:
Sunday would be baked chicken and vegetables. After lunch she would de-bone the chicken, which is a disgustingly greasy thing to do, and prepare it for the many other ways she would feed it us. In a pot cooking on the stove were the unidentifiable parts of the chicken, you know, the stuff you don’t eat, the neck, the liver and gizzard, the beak, the feathers and the feet. Now I’m kidding about the liver and gizzard!
She would boil that until it would fall off whatever it was attached to. She would then place it in an airtight plastic bowl that she would then burp and put it in the fridge. “I have a plan” she would say. Okay. Plan whatever you want, I wasn’t eating anything that came out of THAT pot.
Monday came and we would have baked chicken and vegetables again. But this time the vegetables were a little skimpy so she would say “whatever we don’t eat I’m going to throw away”. So she was feeding us garbage-in-waiting? That’s really appetizing. Here, let’s just eat it standing over the trash can, saves time and the use of plates, we’ll just pass the bowl around!
Tuesday, she poured bar-b-q sauce over it, warmed it on the stove and fried potatoes. I can see it warming in the iron skillet, little chunks with sauce on them. It was all good, because there was still no sign of the stuff from the pot.
Wednesday would come and so would the bar-b-q chicken, only this time it was on sandwiches. We are now on day four of this wonderful chicken. There can’t be anything left of it, so surely tomorrow will bring a different menu.
Dad came in from work on day five and peered into the bubbling pan on the stove. “What’s for supper?” He asked.
“Chicken and dumplings.” Mom replied.
“Really? Great. They’re my favorite.” In anticipation he sat down at the table with a grin on his face. Seeing Dad at the table, my brother and I joined him, expecting any minute that the food would arrive. It didn’t. In fact, Mom was rather surprised when she turned around and found us all at the table looking at her.
Always gracious she said, “What are you all doing at the table? Most days I can’t get you here when the food is hot and today you’re sitting waiting and it’s not ready yet.”
“Brad sat down, so I sat down.” Doing what any older sister does, I blamed the youngest.
“When I saw Dad at the table, I thought it was time to eat.” That’s good, little brother, blame the big guy.
“It’s chicken and dumplings.” Was all Dad said. Mom breathed heavy and set her face in that Mom way and turned back to the stove, virtually ignoring us.
Finally, after eons of minutes, she sat heaping bowls in front of us and sat down herself. My dad said the blessing and dug in. You could see how excited he was as he dug into the bowl. After a couple of bites, he started looking around in his bowl.
“You did say chicken and dumplings, didn’t you?” He asked my mom.
“Yes.”
He took another bite and looked at his bowl, then my bowl, then my brother’s bowl.
“There’s chicken in here, right?”
“Uh huh.”
He took another bite and then looked in the pan. “Did you pass the chicken over the pan?”
Another heavy breath. “No, I didn’t pass the chicken over the pan.” As if to prove a point, she took a spoonful out of her bowl, “See, there’s chicken in there.”
“Oh, you got it all?” He was being very serious.
Mom’s face set. “I did not get it all. There’s chicken in there, I ought to know. It’s what was left from Sunday.” Heavy breath.
Dad looked at her. “The and dumplings are really good.”
“What do you mean the “and dumplings?”
“Well, I can’t say much for the chicken part of chicken and dumplings, but the and dumplings are outstanding.”
I don’t think he ever saw the pan coming.
Stevie
Copyright Stevie Stevens 2009 Fort Worth, TX
No fathers were harmed in the writing of this blog.
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