Nehemiah 3

It takes just one egg to start. One egg in a measuring cup. Beat it very well. You can add a drop of yellow food coloring if you feel sensitive about the color of the dough. Or, you can use an egg that a chicken laid this morning, and the dough will be the perfect golden hue your heart knows is right. If you would like to skip past this recipe, please click here.

Next, add water to the egg to equal one cup of liquid. Mix the water into the egg. Dump the one cup of golden liquid into a medium to large mixing bowl. Now, add flour. Just a little flour at a time. Keep adding flour and stirring until you can’t stir it anymore with a wooden spoon. That’s all you need to start: egg, water, flour, and some effort.

Add a little more flour and knead the dough with your hands until it feels right. You’ll know when. Trust yourself in this. Once you’ve handled and coddled the dough enough, it’s time to let it rest. Tuck the ball of noodle dough into a bowl for a small nap while you work on the rest of the meal. I would cover the bowl tightly with Saran-wrap to keep it from drying out. I also talk to my pasta and bread doughs. This is not required for the recipe, but it does soften the cook and gentles the process. A simple, “there you are, dear. You rest here while I make the broth,” can go a long way in readying your own heart for the task at hand.

You will need a picnic ham, otherwise known as an “end.” It has a bone running right through it, and the bone is filled with marrow. This type of ham end has plenty of fat and skin. It isn’t pretty; it isn’t tied up with a string; it isn’t spiral cut. You’ve hopefully already roasted it with potatoes and maybe green beans for a previous meal. This is the part that’s leftover after you’ve had your ham dinner. Lower it into the bottom of your largest stock pot, one with a lid. Cover the ham end with water, and bring it to a boil. Then drop the heat to medium-low. Cover the pot, leaving one edge of the lid off a little to let the steam escape. You’ve already done more than you really wanted to do for this dinner, and you aren’t done yet.

The smell of ham is going to fill the house. When your family walks in after school or work, they’ll sniff deeply. Ah, the smell of real love in a pot, simmering slowly. By this time, the water has diminished and the broth is a rich, golden color from the fat. Aha! A point I should have made earlier: Do not remove the fat or the skin from the ham. You need the fat to flavor the broth.

You should taste the broth now. Sometimes, the saltiest hams make a plain broth, and a little salt may be needed. You can remove the ham bone after the broth tastes just right, and set it aside to pick any remaining meat off in a little bit. Add a little water to the pot if it’s less than half way up. Turn the heat up to medium and put the lid back on.

Peel and wash at least six fist-sized potatoes. White or golden is fine; Russet are also good. Cut each one into bigger than bite-sized chunks. Make sure the ham broth is bubbling a little before you drop the potato chunks into the pot. Watch for splashing broth.

Now the star of the dinner, the noodles. Uncover your beautiful ball of eggy pasta dough. You’ll need some flour on a large board (or counter). Cut the dough ball into four pieces. Roll out the first piece until it is very thin. If it gets sticky, add a little more flour. Using a pizza cutter or a sharp knife, cut the thin dough into 2 inch strips and then into 2 inch squares. You can play around with the size and thickness until you find your favorite. Repeat this with the other three pieces of pasta dough. After every noodle is cut (good luck finding a place for them to lay while you finish cutting all of them!), start dropping them into the bubbling ham broth on top of the potatoes.

You’ll need to let the pasta cook for twelve minutes, probably. I stopped using a timer for the noodles, so I’ve forgotten. It’s an egg noodle. Cook it as long as you would cook an egg noodle. Stir it every now and then so the noodles don’t stick together. While the noodles and potatoes cook in the ham broth, pick the ham off the bone, and add it to the potatoes, noodles, and broth. You can also add any leftover ham pieces from when you made the roast ham dinner. Let the ham cook in the broth for ten or so minutes, until it’s warmed all the way through.

Now you get to taste it again. First a noodle. Is it al dente? Does it feel like a perfect pasta pillow? Do you immediately want to eat another one? Then they’re ready. Try a potato. The potatoes need to be “mashable,” so fork tender they almost fall apart, but watch out! They’ll be hotter than hot. And finally, try one perfect bite with a noodle, potato and a piece of ham. This combination should make you smile immediately. When you serve this to your family, you can recommend they mash the potatoes in their bowl for a thicker, creamier soup.

Congratulations! You have successfully made Pennsylvania Dutch Pot Pie. It doesn’t have a flaky pie crust. It wasn’t baked in the oven. This is the mystery of this dish. It’s a soup called a pie. You’re welcome.

I did not learn to make this Pennsylvania dish from a cookbook or a recipe card. I learned at Gram’s elbow in her kitchen first, and then with her at my elbow in my own kitchen after I was just married. Gram is my husband’s grandmother. She and Pap welcomed me into their kitchen for meals and instruction on cooking before my husband and I were even married.

Gram didn’t seem to measure anything when she made pot pie, but it always turned out perfectly. I suspect she added an ingredient when I wasn’t looking, and I’m pretty sure it was real love. Long after I learned to make it on my own, she shared a recipe card with me. It had three ingredients on it: egg, water, flour. She forgot to list the love.

Speaking of recipes, I have no less than five spiralbound, church and community cookbooks. I counted to be sure. It seems like I had more than this at one point, but a few were probably tossed during a January purge one year. A quick glance through any one of these collections of recipes yields some intriguing results. For example, “Aunt Charlotte’s Corn Cake,” “Frozen Mud Pie,” “Death by Chocolate,” and “Lazy Man’s Stuffed Cabbage.” And that’s just one book.

I found Helen Packer’s version of Pennsylvania Dutch Pot Pie in another book. She omitted the egg. I suppose you could make the noodles without the egg, but why? She also slices the raw potatoes before dropping them into the broth instead of cutting them into large chunks. Her grandchildren probably think her way is the right way. That’s as it should be.

In the same cookbook as Helen’s Pot Pie recipe, I found a tender memory: a recipe for corn casserole. On page 89 is Ruth Hertzler’s recipe for “Baked Corn.” Next to the title it says in parentheses, “My Mothers [sic].” There’s a big stain on this page from all the times my own mother made Ruth’s Baked Corn. One cook passing her ideas down to another. It feels like we connect to the past this way. Ruth and I have this thing in common: both our mothers made baked corn the same way.

The part that strikes me about these precious cookbooks is that every recipe has a name. I recognize some of the names from my childhood and some from recent years. Some are strangers, but, each recipe has a name attached to it. It isn’t just “Baked Corn.” It’s Ruth Hertzler’s mother’s corn. The names are just as fascinating as the recipes, creating a curiosity about the man or woman who shared it.

In Nehemiah 3 we find a list of names of those who rebuilt the wall of Jerusalem from the Sheep Gate (v. 1) to the “Muster Gate and to the upper chamber of the corner” (v. 31). To start, Eliashib, the high priest, Zaccur, the son of Imri, the sons of Hasanaah, Meremoth, Meshullam, and many, many more. As you read the chapter, notice the connections made between sons and fathers, names and positions, names and locations. The Lord wants the reader to know exactly who He is talking about. It isn’t just Ruth Hertzler’s Baked Corn; it’s her mother’s recipe. It wasn’t just Shallum who repaired; it was “Shallum, the son of Hallohesh, ruler of half the district of Jerusalem” (v. 12). Of special note in this case is that Shallum repaired alongside his daughters. This reminds me of Proverbs 31:17 – “She dresses herself with strength, and makes her arms strong.”

Note also the verbs used to describe their work! The people didn’t just repair, they rose up, built, consecrated, “set its doors, its bolts, and its bars.” They also laid beams, rebuilt, and restored. They brought the wall back from its state of destruction and disrepair that had caused such heartache to Nehemiah (Nehemiah 1:4-11). This rebuilding and restoring was long, hard work. But none of them were alone. They built shoulder to shoulder, side by side.

I am so glad some details of the people who built and repaired are included. There weren’t just servants and common folks who picked up hammers and stones. The priests, Levites, nobles, rulers, and governors also worked. Some additional occupations listed are goldsmiths, merchants, and perfumers. I’ve already mentioned the daughters of Shallum, but there is one more crew of interesting rebuilders that require honorable mention: the men of Jericho. They built next to Eliashib, the high priest (v. 1-2). How redemptive to see men of Jericho working alongside God’s people to rebuild the wall. Remember the wall from their ancestors’ hometown? Recall that God Himself levelled that wall. Yet, here they are, decades after their great grandfathers saw God’s hand of judgment, picking up stone after stone, setting each one carefully to restore the wall of this holy city, Jerusalem.

I’m not going to pretend that a stock pot full of ham pot pie is the same as the God-given work of rebuilding the wall of Jerusalem. It’s close, but not quite the same. I also would never say a cookbook holds as much weight in naming names as God’s own Word! His Word is wonderful, true, pure, and always righteous. I will say this: in whatever work God has called you to or placed you in, work at it with all your might to bring Him glory. Are you building architectural wonders? Teaching small children to read? Baking bread for your family dinner? Opening your home to the needy? Fixing car engines? Mowing lawns? Writing operational procedure documents for your company? Whatever it is, friend, you are called to work in holiness, in obedience, and for God’s own glory. This is how we build.