Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge 212
My mother would make potato dumpling for harvest dinners. Her signature ingredient was small pieces of bread fried in bacon grease and mixed with the potatoes, flour, and egg. She would shape the dough in her hands and drop baseball-sized portions into a huge pot of boiling salted water. After 10 minutes she would move the steaming dumplings to her big enamel roaster and cover them with a thick white cream sauce. She would bake them for another hour and serve them, still bubbling, to us at the kitchen table along with big slices of her homemade fresh white bread and pickled red beets (for color).
Even though these dumplings were our favorite meal, children learned from a one-time painful experience, to limit themselves to a single serving. Those dumplings landed in our stomachs like a fastball smacking into a soft catcher’s mitt and lodged there into the late summer evening!
It was not unusual for our entire family to nap for the rest of the day after eating those dumplings.
Just one fuels a farmhand
-Sates noon hunger pain
Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge 212 Sates / Fuels