Mushroom and Dumplings Recipe

Chicken and dumplings is the ultimate comfort food. As a kid, I loved how the rich, gravy-like broth soaked into the soft, pillowy dumplings and how the tender chicken pulled apart easily. Unfortunately, because the dish takes hours to make—and involves simmering a whole chicken, straining the broth, and thickening it with a roux—my mom didn’t make it very often. Now that I’m an adult, I make it a priority to cook it whenever the craving strikes—even if that means ditching the chicken to save time in the interest of getting my dumpling fix. 

This version made with mushrooms instead of chicken is one of my go-tos. It comes together much faster than the original and is just as hearty and satisfying. It’s a go-to weeknight dinner for when I’m craving something cozy but can’t be bothered to simmer an entire bird. The mushrooms are hefty and meaty, and give the dish plenty of umami flavor, so much so that I don’t even miss the meat—and I suspect you won’t, either.

Brown Your Mushrooms and Vegetables Well

For the most flavorful stew, it’s crucial to brown the mushrooms and vegetables well. This allows the Maillard reaction—a series of chemical reactions that occur when heat transforms the proteins and sugars in your food—to take place. Browning the mushrooms is the most time-consuming part of the recipe, requiring up to 10 minutes per batch, but it’s essential, as it enhances the mushrooms’ deeply savory flavor. I like to use cremini or portobello mushrooms, but feel free to substitute a few ounces of shiitake or trumpet mushrooms for variety. Once the mushrooms are nicely golden, I remove them from the pan and sauté the chopped leeks and celery until they’re soft and beginning to brown, a step that highlights their sweet, earthy notes.

Dried Mushrooms Deliver Big Flavor

While fresh mushrooms make up the bulk of this soup, dried mushrooms—which have a concentrated earthy, umami flavor—do most of the heavy lifting in flavoring the broth. I prefer a mix of morels, shiitakes, chanterelles, and lobster mushrooms, but you can use any type or blend of dried mushrooms you like. I recommend using a dry pastry brush to dust off any dirt, then breaking the mushrooms into small pieces by hand before adding them to the stew. As the stew simmers, the mushrooms rehydrate, becoming plump and bouncy while also infusing the broth with deep savoriness.

The Secret to Fluffy Dumplings That Don’t Disintegrate

The dumplings in my recipe are much like buttermilk biscuits, except they’re gently poached in the rich mushroom broth rather than baked. These dumplings are my ideal ones: soft, light, and fluffy, not gummy or dense. The dough is a simple combination of flour, salt, baking soda, and baking powder, brought together with buttermilk, an egg, and melted butter. The acidic buttermilk reacts with the baking soda to help leaven the dumplings and gives them a wonderful lightness, while the butter provides richness and tenderness. Most recipes for this kind of dumpling don’t call for an egg, but in my testing, I found that adding one made for lighter dumplings that held their shape. Not only were egg-free dumplings flatter and denser, but they were also more likely to disintegrate into the broth.

The Dumplings Help to Thicken the Broth

Classic chicken and dumplings is a thick, stew-like dish with a velvety broth, traditionally thickened with flour and enriched with cream. Here, I use a small amount of flour to start, but most of the thickening occurs once you add the dumplings. Don’t panic if your stew looks watery after 30 minutes of simmering—once the dumplings go in, their starch helps thicken the dish and give it much-needed body. 

You’ll know the soup is ready when the dumplings have at least doubled in size and cooked through (cut one open if you’re not sure). Serve the stew immediately while the dumplings are at their fluffiest, as they’ll get heavier the longer they sit in the broth. Two or three dumplings per bowl is a good starting point, but if you’re like me, you’ll probably find yourself going back for seconds—or even thirds.