Joey and I decided on Thursday
to serve chicken and dumplings today. We put green beans and fruit on the menu
too. Joey would thaw the pre-cooked chicken, order a half dozen boxes of broth,
and large amounts of green beans and fruit. He said he already had self-rising
flour. I felt good about this menu because I had just practiced the chicken
recipe at home.
Wendy is the new gate keeper—a
young, pretty woman. I don't know the duties of the job, but she seemed awfully
relaxed to be new at it! The first thing she told me was that she was new and
Joey wasn't there yet…
No, I still don't know how to
turn on all the lights in the kitchen, but I got a few on. I found the broth
Joey had ordered and began cooking sliced carrots, parsley, and onion I'd
taken. Later, I added another onion and lots of chopped celery.
The bad news was that Joey had
not thawed the chicken, nor was it
pre-cooked. He ran a 5-pound block of raw chicken pieces under hot water until
it broke apart and went into a pot to boil. We had 90 minutes to pull off
lunch. Joey opened 18 small cans of green beans and put those on to boil. He left me to my own
resources while he mopped the dining room.
I made a biscuit dough from 5
cups of flour, margarine, and milk. Over a period of at least an hour, I rolled
it out and cut it into little squares, setting them aside.
When the chicken was tender,
we poured off all the water, and Joey helped me chop it into small pieces. My
arm hurt, my hand hurt, and I am not
cut out for that kind of labor.
When the chicken was
thoroughly chopped, we put it back in the huge pot and I added several cartons
of broth. Then I added the carrots, onions, parsley, celery, and some peas.
When it was boiling, I lay little dumplings all over the top. When those seemed
done, I stirred them into the brew and covered the top with more. In a separate
pot of boiling broth, I cooked up the rest of the dumplings, adding them to the
big pot as they became ready. This dish was served in little styrofoam bowls
with a sprig of fresh parsley atop each one. Joey was so surprised when I demonstrated the placing of the parsley sprigs
(I stole the idea from an on-line recipe picture).
By 10:30, Joey and I were both
running on fumes. My little breakfast yogurt was long gone, and he'd eaten
nothing! So I got myself some sliced cheese and chips. Then Joey asked if I'd
fry him 2 eggs. Maybe I should worry. I still know how to fry eggs, but with
all those big pots in process on the stove, I could not remember how to ask Joey how
he wanted his eggs. All I could think of was "straight up," and
"poured." He wanted them over easy.
A stranger wandered in before
lunch, telling Joey his blood sugar was high, and asking for a soda. Then he
hung around making senseless remarks that told me he wasn't wrapped tight at
all. Pretty soon we got a call from Wendy asking us to send the man out, as he
was not a resident there. You just never know who might wander in (in spite of
the gate keeper), or how many personalities they'll bring with them. So far,
they've all been harmless.
We were 5 minutes late opening
the door, but what had at times seemed like not enough food became a nearly
full pot. The word "homemade" flowed freely through the lunchroom.
Nothing succeeds like success—and requests for seconds.
The pre-release group eats
first, and one of them is a 300 pounder who is a very picky eater (surely I'm missing something here). She pointed
to a plate on the counter and turned up her nose. "I only want the soup
and the fruit; I don't want the beans." There was a line of people to
serve, and I had to scrape up the nerve, but I suggested she go ahead and take
the plate, and just not eat the beans. She complied—no smile, kiss my
foot—nothing. But she wanted seconds!
Payback. Had to smile and say thank you.
That Paul Bunyan fellow has
decided that he likes me. Remember what a grouch he was? Now he knows where to
find seconds, and he's sucking up. And that's a good thing. I like him too.
Most of today's faces seemed
new. McCaulay wasn't there. The little blonde boy had gone on a picnic, and the
four new pre-schoolers were not
there, but my favorite adolescents were. They got the usual candies and arts 'n
crafts goodies. I wish you could have heard the boy say, "Here I am!"
when I stepped up to his table and didn't see him. This is the same child who
wouldn't look me in the eye and who spoke in whispers just a few weeks ago.
He's OUT!
We served about 40 plates, all
told. I'm still aching all over from the endeavor, but I'd do it again. Joey
wants some "summer food" next week, so we plan to have hamburgers,
cole slaw, baked beans, and chips. Maybe I'll take some butterscotch pudding
and coolwhip—or something…
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