All this talk of chicken and dumplings is reminding me of a not-so-shining moment I had while pregnant. I say “This is my favorite thing my mom makes,” about several different things, but this is the real deal. I mean it this time! It fills not only my stomach but also my love tank. (Any fans of The 5 Love Languages?)
So we were in the mountains for Thanksgiving ’05. It was perfect weather for “C’s and D’s” and my parents were cooking up a storm. Mind you, I was like 7 months pregnant and had been smelling the aroma of the soup cooking for a long time before it was ready. I was anticipating having several bowls of it. You know, I only get it once or twice a year, so I have to make the most of my chance. Then my mom gets a phone call and says we have some guests coming over and they may be staying for dinner. What?!?! Her exact words were, “You can each have a mug full.” That’s not what I wanted to hear.
So I looked in the cabinet and found the biggest mug of all time. For you Sonic fans, it was the Route 44 of all mugs. It could probably hold 3 cups of soup. And I filled it to the brim. I had to walk very carefully to keep it from spilling over. I was that selfish. And the worst part was I didn’t feel bad about it at all. I thought someone else, maybe a couple of someone elses, should give up their portion for the poor pregnant lady who spends all year looking forward to this one meal. I totally got caught on my way to the table. Everyone shouted in unison, “That’s not a mug!” I should have just gone down to the basement and eaten it in secret. But that would have signaled that I had a problem. So mom made me pour a third of it back into the pot. And even then I had twice as much as everyone else. I promise I was not bitter at all.
We didn’t end up having to share the soup. In the end, the pregnant lady got her fill. But she will never live that one down.
*Update: I do not have the recipe but I might be able to post it when I’m home with my parents next week.
