Why I Always Come Back to This Soup

Alright, so picture this: it’s raining outside, the dog’s tracking mud through the hallway (again), and all I can think about is something warm and comforting. That’s when I dig out my big ol’ soup pot and whip up this One Pot Chicken and Dumpling Soup. My mom used to make a version of this when I was little; the dumplings were always my favorite—soft, fluffy, almost like edible pillows bobbing around in a hug of broth. And, honestly, I think the whole family agrees this is the reason soup season even exists. Plus, it’s got that magical one-pot cleanup that makes me feel like a kitchen wizard. Or lazy genius. Take your pick.

Why You'll Love This (Or At Least, Why I Keep Making It)

I pull this recipe out when I want dinner with as little fuss as possible—especially after a long day when, frankly, the idea of washing more than one pot feels like a cruel joke. My family goes a little wild for it, especially when I sneak in extra dumplings (which is often, if I’m honest). One time I tried using pre-cooked chicken to save time, but the flavor was a bit… meh. Live and learn, right? (Oh, and if you’re the kind of person who loves dunking crusty bread in soup, trust me when I say, this is the soup for you.)

What You’ll Need (and What I Sometimes Swap)

Chicken thighs (about 500g; you can use breasts if you want, but thighs are juicier, and if I’m in a rush, rotisserie chicken has rescued me more times than I’d like to admit)
Carrots (2 medium, peeled and chopped—my grandma never peeled hers, but I do because, well, habit)
Celery (2 stalks, sliced; occasionally I forget this, and honestly, nobody’s noticed yet)
Onion (1 large, diced—red or yellow, whatever’s rolling around in your pantry is fair game)
Garlic (3 cloves, minced; or a big spoonful of the jarred stuff when I’m feeling lazy)
Chicken stock/broth (about 6 cups, but I sometimes just top up with water and a bouillon cube if I’m short)
Bay leaf (1, but I’ve forgotten this plenty of times—still good)
Thyme (a teaspoon dry, or a sprig if you’ve got fresh—sometimes I just skip it and use Italian seasoning)
Salt & pepper (to taste—be generous with the pepper, I think it makes it sing)
For the dumplings:

1 cup all-purpose flour (I tried whole wheat once; it was... chewy)
2 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
2 tablespoon butter (I usually just eyeball it and hope for the best)
½ cup milk (anything you’ve got—almond, oat, whatever is fine)
Optional: a handful of chopped fresh parsley or chives (if you’re feeling fancy or want to impress your in-laws)

How I Actually Make This (With Tangents)

Heat a glug of oil in your biggest, sturdiest pot—Dutch oven if you’ve got one, otherwise anything deep works. Toss in the chopped onion, carrot, and celery. Sauté for about 5 minutes until it smells amazing. (This is the bit where my kids start wandering into the kitchen to see what’s cooking.)
Add the garlic and cook another minute or two; don’t let it burn. Burnt garlic is the arch-nemesis of good soup, trust me.
Push the veggies to the side and plop in your chicken. Sear it just until it’s got a little color (no need for perfection here; it’ll finish cooking in the broth). Salt and pepper with wild abandon.
Pour in your chicken stock, add the bay leaf and thyme, and bring to a gentle boil. Lower to a simmer and cover. Let it chug away for about 20-25 minutes, until the chicken is cooked and begging to fall apart. (This is usually when I sneak a taste. You know, for science.)
Fish out the chicken with tongs or a slotted spoon. Shred it (forks work, fingers work better if you don’t mind a mess), then toss it back in. Ditch the bay leaf unless you’re into chewing on leaves (no judgment).
Now for the dumplings! In a bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Rub in the butter with your fingers until crumbly, then add milk and herbs if you’re using them. Stir just until combined—you want a shaggy dough, not a brick.
Scoop up little spoonfuls of dough and drop them onto the surface of the simmering soup. Don’t worry if they look like uneven blobs; that’s part of the charm. Cover the pot and let them cook for about 15 minutes—don’t peek! (Okay, I always peek. But you shouldn’t. The steam makes them fluffy.)
Serve hot, with extra parsley on top if you remembered to buy it. Or not. Either way, it’s proper comfort food.

What I’ve Learned Along the Way (AKA: Notes)

If you over-stir the dumpling dough, you’ll get little rocks instead of fluffy clouds. Learned that the hard way—once. Never again.
Making this gluten-free? I tried swapping the flour for a GF blend; honestly, it works, but the dumplings are a tad gummy unless you add a pinch more baking powder.
Forgotten herbs or swapped veggies? Honestly, it’s still tasty—flexibility is the name of the game with this soup.

Variations: Some Winners, Some Not So Much

Once I added a splash of cream at the end—wow, that’s a game changer if you want it extra cozy.
Leftover roast turkey totally works in place of chicken (especially after Thanksgiving; just saying).
Tried adding corn once. Regretted it. Sweet corn is great, just not here.
Vegetarian version? I’ve used mushrooms and white beans instead of chicken—surprisingly hearty!

About Equipment (And Making Do)

Technically, you want a good heavy-bottomed soup pot, but honestly, as long as it holds everything and doesn’t burn, you’re golden. Once I even used a giant sauté pan with a lid because everything else was in the dishwasher. Worked fine, though I had to scoop a bit more carefully. If you’re lacking a ladle, a mug actually makes a pretty decent substitute for serving. No shame in that game.

Storing Leftovers (If That Ever Happens)

This soup keeps well in the fridge for up to 3 days—though honestly, in my house it never lasts more than a day! (We’re a bit greedy.) Dumplings get a touch denser overnight, but I actually like them that way. Reheat gently on the stove, or in the microwave if you’re impatient.

How We Serve It (Plus Family Quirks)

I love this soup with a slice of crusty sourdough, but my dad dunks saltine crackers into it like it’s going out of style. Sometimes I’ll throw in a side salad if I’m feeling virtuous, but let’s be real: this soup is the main event. Oh, and we always—always—fight over who gets the last dumpling.

Pro Tips Learned the Hard Way

Don’t rush the simmering time for dumplings. I once tried shaving off five minutes and got doughy centers. Not the best.
Actually, I find it works better if you resist the urge to peek—seriously, that steam is key.
Use low-sodium broth if you can. One time I used the full-salt stuff and, wow, did we drink a lot of water that night.

FAQ: Real Questions From Real People (and Me)

Can I make this ahead?
Yep! I think it tastes even better the next day, honestly. The dumplings soak up more broth, so you might want to add a splash when reheating.
Can I freeze it?
You can, but the dumplings get a bit weird in texture after thawing. If you’re planning to freeze, I’d make the soup base and add fresh dumplings when you reheat.
What if I don't have fresh herbs?
No problem—dried totally works, just use a bit less. Or skip them. The soup won’t mind.
How do I thicken the soup if it seems too thin?
Let it simmer uncovered for a bit before you add the dumplings. Or throw in a small handful of rice—yeah, it’s a bit random, but it works.
Where do you get your stock?
Honestly, I use boxed stuff most of the time (I like Better Than Bouillon when I want extra flavor). Sometimes I’ll make homemade, but only when I’m feeling ambitious.
How can I make it spicier?
Add a pinch of chili flakes with the veggies, or a dash of hot sauce at the end. I like Frank’s RedHot for a little kick.

Oh, and if you want a step by step photo guide, this post from Simply Recipes is a gem—I borrowed a few tricks form them, not gonna lie.

So that’s my go-to one pot chicken and dumpling soup—equal parts comfort and chaos, just the way I like it. If you try it, let me know how it goes or what weird twist you try. And if you don’t, well, more dumplings for me!

One Pot Chicken and Dumpling Soup