Let Me Tell You About My Cozy Chicken and Dumplings Story

If I’m being honest, my first try at gluten free chicken and dumplings was… a mess. I’d promised my cousin a nostalgic dinner like Grandma used to make (you know, minus the gluten bellyache), and let’s just say, that first batch of dumplings could have doubled as doorstops. But after many flour-dusted evenings—one involving my dog ‘taste testing’ half a spilled batch—I’ve landed on a version that’s comforting, simple, and completely doable. And yes, even that picky uncle scarfs it up now. It’s my rainy-day go-to or just whenever I get a whiff of a rotisserie chicken at the store. Life hack: sometimes you need this food hug even if it’s not stormy.

Why You’ll Love This Messy, Cozy Pot

I make this when my week’s been a bit much and I just want the house to smell like supper did growing up—rich and savory and honestly, a bit chaotic. My family goes nuts for it mainly because, well, you can never tell it’s gluten free (except that one time the dumplings mysteriously vanished from the top—long story). Also, I secretly like that you can sneak in any random veggie hiding in the crisper. Oh, and because it reheats decently, if it lasts—though in this house, leftovers are rare birds!

What You’ll Need (Substitutions Totally Allowed)

2-3 cups cooked chicken, shredded or chunked (rotisserie when I’m lazy, poached if I’m feeling fancy—honestly, canned will do in a pinch)
1 medium onion, chopped (red, yellow, white, honestly whatever you have… or a handful of scallions if that’s what’s on hand)
2-3 carrots, sliced
2 stalks celery, chopped (or just add another carrot if you’re out of celery—I’m not the celery police)
1 clove garlic (sometimes I double it, but that’s just me)
5 cups chicken broth (Swanson’s is solid, but I sometimes use bouillon cubes and water if I run out)
1 tsp dried thyme (or Italian blend—my grandmother thought thyme was Italian seasoning, bless her heart)
2 bay leaves (pull these out before serving or prepare for complaints)
Salt and pepper—go with your gut
1 cup frozen peas (if I remember—peas are kind of like socks in the dryer, gone when you want them)

For the dumplings (here’s where it gets fun):

1 1/2 cups gluten free all-purpose flour blend (Cup4Cup, King Arthur, or that mystery one from the discount shelf—just make sure it has xanthan gum; if not, toss in 1/2 tsp)
2 tsp baking powder
3/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp garlic powder (totally optional, but yum)
2 tbsp butter, cold (I’ve used margarine in a pinch—don’t tell anyone)
2/3 cup milk (dairy, oat, almond, whatever you’ve got that isn’t water)
2 tbsp fresh parsley or chives, chopped (optional, but pretty)

Making It All Happen (Hints, Chaos, and Real Talk)

First, grab your biggest pot or Dutch oven. Toss in a splash of oil (I always use olive—it’s practically a habit now) and sauté your onion, carrots, celery, and garlic over medium heat for about 5 minutes until stuff looks glossy and the kitchen smells like actual food rather than takeout. This is where I question if I actually like chopping onions, but we’re committed now.
Dump in the chicken broth, thyme, bay leaves, a big pinch of salt, and some pepper. Bring it to a nice simmer, stirring occasionally. If the bay leaves float up and stare at you accusingly—just ignore them.
Add your chicken, keep simmering for another 10-ish minutes, letting all those flavors introduce themselves.
Meanwhile, in a bowl: mix up flour, baking powder, salt, and (if you’re feeling extra) garlic powder. Cut in the cold butter. I usually just use my fingers, but a fork works too—just mash it up until you’re looking at something like lumpy biscuit sand.
Pour in the milk and stir until a sticky, awkward dough forms. Don’t overthink it; if it’s too dry, splash in a spoonful more milk. Fold in herbs if you’ve got ‘em. I always panic here thinking it’s too wet, but it somehow works out. Every. Time.
Drop the dough in spoonfuls (think golf-ball size, but who’s measuring?) right on top of your simmering soup, spacing them out. Cover the pot, lower the heat, and walk away—DON’T lift the lid for at least 20 minutes. I know, but trust me. Peeking ruins the fluffy magic. Learned that the hard way.
After 20 minutes, check to see if dumplings are set: poke with a fork; they should feel springy. If they look a tad doughy, just simmer a tiny bit more uncovered.
Stir in peas at the last minute. Fish out those bay leaves (seriously) and spoon up bowls of happiness.

Notes From My Kitchen Mayhem

Honestly, using leftover roasted chicken gives this the best flavor, but poached works fine—once I even used Thanksgiving turkey, and no one noticed.
If dumplings seem tough, you probably overmixed or peeked. I’ve done both, so… lesson learned.
That weird green layer forming on reheated leftovers? It’s the herbs; tastes fine, just stir it through.

All the Variations I’ve Actually Tried (and Some I Regret)

I swapped in coconut milk once for a dairy-free dumpling. It worked, but gave the soup a coconutty vibe—not bad, just… different.
Tried adding diced potatoes in place of some chicken. It was hearty, but then dumplings crowded for space—you might want a bigger pot.
Attempted using cornmeal for half the flour. Didn’t love the gritty dumplings, but maybe that’s just me.

Don’t Sweat the Equipment

All you really need is a big pot—if it’s not a Dutch oven, that’s fine. I used a massive saucepan one time, just kept the temp a little lower. For cutting in butter, your hands work if you don’t own a pastry cutter (which I routinely lose in my utensil drawer anyway).

Storage: If You Somehow Have Leftovers

Store in the fridge, covered, up to 3 days. I think this tastes even better the next day, but reheated dumplings get a bit sturdier (which I don’t mind, but fair warning). But honestly, in my house it rarely lasts more than a day!

Here’s How I Actually Serve It

We always have it in big bowls with extra black pepper. Sometimes I put out hot sauce, sometimes, if I’m feeling British, a splash of malt vinegar on top (don’t knock it ‘til you try it). And, if it’s the weekend, serve with crusty gluten free bread—I usually bake mine using this recipe from Gluten Free on a Shoestring.

Lessons I’ve Learned (aka Pro Tips I Actually Needed)

I once tried rushing the dumplings by cranking up the heat. Result? Brown, undercooked, gluey mess.
If you stir too hard after dropping in dumplings, they break up like sad snowballs. Just… nudge the soup instead.
Actually, I find it works better if you use pretty cold milk in the dough. Just seems fluffier, but maybe that’s in my head.
Found a great video on poaching chicken that’s saved me a few times: Serious Eats oven poaching guide—really clear instructions!

The FAQ Bit (Because People Actually Ask Me This)

Can I freeze this?
Technically, yes, but dumplings thaw a bit spongy. I’d rather make and eat fresh. Actually, I haven’t met anyone who had leftovers to freeze, anyway!
What’s the best gluten free flour blend?
I’ve had good luck with Cup4Cup, but King Arthur’s isn’t bad. If you’re curious about blends, here’s the rundown I use from Good For You Gluten Free.
Can I make this dairy free?
Yup! Use your favorite non-dairy milk and plant butter. I liked oat milk better than almond for this, it’s creamier.
Soup too thick or thin?
If too thick, add water or broth (not wine, unless you want a boozy twist—ask me how I know). Too thin? Let it simmer lidless a bit.
Forgot to defrost chicken?
Been there! Just toss breasts or thighs right in the simmering broth, cook through, then shred and carry on. Give the dumplings an extra few mins if needed.

And there you have it—my slightly chaotic, perfectly cozy, sometimes-imperfect gluten free chicken and dumplings, straight form my stove. If you try it, let me know how it goes (and whether your dumplings float or sink—I always say it’s a personality test). If you end up with flour on your shirt and soup on your socks, you’re doing it right.

Gluten Free Chicken and Dumplings