My Grandma Carroll, who contributed the rolls to so many of our holiday dinners, was famous for her chicken and noodles — it was probably the best dish she made and the one everybody wanted the recipe for — but she didn’t want anyone to best her at her star food. When my mother asked her how she made them, she said, “Oh, you just take an egg and a cup of flour.” She neglected to mention the other two eggs or extra egg yolks she always added. So Mom went home and made them and they were impossibly dry.
The next time we went over to Grandma’s house, my Mom said, “Mother, do you only put one egg in your noodles?”
Grandma turned her head to the side and started giggling.
“Well, if you have another egg…,” she said.
My mother finally figured out that the correct ratio was three eggs to one cup of flour, or an egg and as many extra egg yolks as you had from some other cooking project.
You add the flour (seasoned with 1/4 tsp of salt and 1/2 tsp of paprika) to your eggs or egg and yolks and knead it for awhile until it is spongy. Then you roll it out as thinly as possible on a floured cloth.
Now you have a choice. You can cut your noodles and have them “soft,” or you can let the rolled out sheet of dough dry out for a day, depending on how much advance planning you have done. Our family prefers noodles that have dried for a day — that’s what Grandma made.
I watched Mom make these yesterday. She cut the dough in half before she rolled it out, so, one cup of flour and three eggs make two sheets of noodles. Then she set them on a tea towel to dry with a sheet of paper over them. Several hours later she replaced the paper with another tea towel. Grandma used to hang sheets of noodles over the top of her swinging door and I have seen Mom hang them in ingenious ways in the past, but she doesn’t do that anymore — now she dries them flat (If you hang your noodles they may dry better because they’ll get better air circulation). This time we let them dry overnight.
Whenever you cut them, roll each sheet of dough up like a jelly roll and cut them in thin strips: remember that noodles expand in the broth that you cook them in, so cut them thin.
Grandma most often made chicken and noodles cooked in chicken stock: she would cook a chicken in water, bones and all, remove the chicken, take some of the meat off the bones, boil down the cooking stock and cook her noodles in it. But if she had turkey leftovers, she would boil up the turkey carcass, neck and giblets for stock, reserving some turkey meat, and cook her noodles in that. When we make stock, we add in ends of carrots and celery for extra flavor. We strain the stock and remove some of the fat.
Mom says it is important to leave some fat in the stock so that you will not have a flat flavor. I say you have to have some salt in the stock to avoid the same flat flavor — if the noodles taste flat I either add salt at the table, or eat them with Tabasco sauce. Mom says that Grandma also added some butter to her stock before adding the noodles. For best results, heat the strained stock to a full rolling boil, drop noodles into it a few at a time and cook the noodles in the turkey (or chicken) stock until they are soft (from fifteen minutes to half an hour. At this point, season with salt and pepper to taste, add 1 Tbsp of butter and then add your reserved meat until it is just heated through in the noodles.
These noodles improve over the next few days: you might consider them to be second generation leftovers.
What a cute story, Grandma protecting her best recipe at all cost! Priceless!
I haven’t made pasta from scratch in a while, but when I do, I use the KA attachment to roll out and cut the dough – honestly, I think it’s cheating, and I’ve always wanted to try it by hand. Your post is giving me that little push, I wish I could just take a deep breath and go for it…
We have never had a pasta machine of any kind, Sally, so this is the only pasta we make — Mom says all the farm wives in Illinois used to make chicken and noodles.
Adorable, love that she giggled and kept her secret:)
She really did not like competition from other women, but she would defer to any man in sight.
Thank you so much I remember them hanging over the swinging door as well. Yummy
You’re welcome, Robin. Happy Birthday!
Grandma Carroll was a card! So funny to think of her really wanting to protect her prize recipe. What would she think of you and your generosity! I’ve never made noodles, but I’d love to try. I didn’t get a chance to make the rolls yet…but I am going to–perhaps for Christmas! Debra
I don’t think Grandma really meant to take the recipe to the grave — she just didn’t want anyone in the immediate family to make better noodles while she was alive! She was vigorous and opinionated all her days and probably still made noodles the last year of her life.
I certainly understand that many, if not most, just don’t have the time to make noodles and it is a shame. There just isn’t any comparison between store-bought and homemade noodles, be they destined for a soup pot or tomato sauce. I bet Grandma Carroll would be happy to see you making your own.
Yes, John. It’s interesting that none of us eat any other form of chicken and noodles. When we were kids we liked chicken noodle soup, but my Grandma said they made it by tying a string to a rooster and running it through a pot of hot water! We’ve always bought pasta to make all of our other pasta dishes, but chicken (or turkey) and noodles is in a class of its own (There weren’t any Italians in the family to show us how to make other things).
Stick with me, Sharyn, I’ll teach you! 🙂
As long as I don’t need any kind of machine, you’re on, John. We frown on single-use appliances around here — there’s not enough counter space for them and all of the cupboards are high.
Cute story – reminds me of episode of Everyone Loves Raymond when Marie gave the Debra the wrong recipe. I do not make homemade noodles often – but boy when I do – such a treat.
We don’t make them often either, but we all like them.
My great aunt Mabel took a recipe such as this to her grave! Now I can get the noodles back in the family with your grandmother’s recipe. Seems I have a great start, as I too cook my chickens as she did. Thank you for sharing this recipe, Sharyn.
You’re welcome, Lisa. I’m glad you found it useful.
oh this is a great blog! I’ve never made pasta at home but I was watching a programme by Loraine Pascale, Home Baking Made Easy, this week and she made pasta and hung it over a wire coat hanger to dry out. I’m very tempted to make my own now. Do you use a rolling pin or do you have a pasta machine?
We use a rolling pin, Lauren. Mom divides the above dough in half and rolls out two sheets of noodles, dries them overnight and then rolls each sheet up like a jelly roll and cuts the noodles.
Pasta is such a lovely thing to make at home; another blogging friend Charles in Paris just posted about a home made pasta dish that just looks wonderful. Butter and pasta is never a bad combo.
What does Charles in Paris call his blog? If you let me know, I’ll look him up, Eva.
Wonderful little story! I remember my Grandma Olga’s “boiled cookies.”, hidden in a real little pantry room in the house on the Rogue River in Oregon, and sneaking into the dark to eat them. But my grandma was sort of a middling cook…. she followed the old Swedish custom of boiling or cooking meats until they were gray. And practically salt-less. No role models there. But…. she painted…. and that was a durable inspiration…
My Grandma did not paint. She sang (but there are those who wish she didn’t — she was known for her piercing soprano and coming in half a beat behind everyone else in church). I remember meeting your Grandma Olga, but I never had any of her cooking!
I make my grandma’s noodles, too. The recipe is simular (no paprika) and laced with memories. Thanks for sharing yours!
See? I knew it was a Midwestern thing. You’re welcome (You know we live in California, which is probably how the paprika got in — I suspect that is my mother’s addition, not Grandma’s).