True comfort is the best nourishment for the soul

In today's Briefing:

I’m a big fan of comfort food, even though I know it’s much better for the soul than the body.

Because I like the eating much more than the preparation, I don’t indulge very often. This week was an exception, when I tackled a from-scratch version of chicken and dumplings.

Years ago, when I worried less about processed foods, I had a quick version of the dish. It required cans of soup, cooked chicken breasts, frozen veggies and a biscuit mix. The dish was inexpensive and quick but too salty, and it wasn’t so delicious that it was worth the extra fat and calories.

My attempt Monday night was purely organic — chicken, cream, broth, carrots, celery, onions, even the flour and corn meal. Full of fat and calories, yes, but at least organic. (And expensive. The whole chicken alone cost $17; one of its nonorganic friends would have cost less than half that.)

I browned the chicken, sautéed the vegetables, boiled it all and then shredded the chicken from the bones.

You know I really want to eat a dish when I’m willing to separate meat from bone. I’m never able to shred it gracefully with two forks like the experts on cooking shows. I tear, rip and pull, leaving behind a mangled pile of bones and fat and a little meat (because I just get tired and disgusted with the whole thing).

Anyway, after shredding most of the chicken and adding it back to the dish, I dropped dough into the boiling broth. I partly covered the pot, set the timer and walked away, resisting the urge to check on the plumpness of the dumplings.

Oh, the smell of chicken and dumplings in the house was divine. Even Cooper and Katie would take breaks from their Lego drama of Harry Potter vs. ancient Egyptians to pop into the kitchen and investigate the source of the scent.

The taste was even better. I savored each bite, proud of the dinner I’d spent an hour preparing (though, when you think about it, all I really did was follow directions).

Cooper and Katie offered appreciative comments, most predictably for the dumplings — who doesn’t love fluffy, biscuit-like morsels?

After dinner, the kids cleared the table, and I packaged the leftovers for Tuesday’s dinner. (Tuesday’s after-school appointments keep us on the move until 6 p.m.; Monday leftovers are key to the logistics of Tuesday night.)

The contents were still warm, so I left the container on the kitchen island to cool before helping Cooper and Katie prepare for bed.

After we read a chapter together and I tucked them both in, I did the smallest amount of work possible before going to bed myself.

Exhaustion from a busy weekend had set in, and I gave in, ignoring laundry and dishes and e-mails.

And the leftovers.

I realized my error Tuesday morning, when I turned on the kitchen light and walked in. My cheerful disposition, courtesy of nine hours of continuous sleep, clouded when I spotted the chicken and dumplings, free range and room temperature instead of trapped and chilled in the refrigerator.

I am not proud when I admit that for a moment I considered saving them and just hoping for the best.

But years of warnings about chicken and dairy products settled in, and I did the right but painful thing.

I threw away that delicious, made-from-scratch, pricey, totally organic dinner that would be my saving grace at the end of a hectic day.

I told Cooper and Katie about my mistake. I apologized. I mentioned uncertainty about that night’s menu.

“It’s OK, Mommy,” my son said, patting my arm. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

Little sister added: “We can just make sandwiches.”

Then they squeezed me tight.

Comforting words and hugs, it turns out, are more nourishing than comfort food.

Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. E-mail her at tyradamm@gmail.com.