By Emily Xia
As an elementary schooler, smelling that familiar scent and running down the stairs for dinner to be met with a steaming hot plate of dumplings on the table has always been the highlight of my day. A delicious combination of meat-and-veggie filling encased in a soft shell, ready to be dipped into soy sauce or vinegar — what could be better?
Of course, while dumplings are delicious, they mean much more to me than just a tasty dish. They’re a physical representation of my Chinese culture, a mandatory dish at every Chinese New Year. Every time I eat dumplings, I’m surrounded by friends and family that bring me back to my Chinese roots.
Despite the fact that dumplings are such a crucial aspect of my culture, I never wondered how they ended up on my dinner table until a few months ago. I’d eaten hundreds of dumplings in my lifetime without even questioning their creation. I said I liked to cook, but how could I assert that if I couldn’t even create one of the most classic dishes of my culture?
Upon realizing this, I decided I had to learn how to make dumplings from scratch. I’d seen my mom make them thousands of times, and it didn’t look that complicated.
Illustration by Emily Xia
To my dismay, I was horribly wrong.
Thankfully, my mom agreed to help my inexperienced self, and after buying ingredients from the local grocery store, we were ready to begin.
We started off by making dough for the wrappers. As I opened the flour and set out the equipment I needed, I realized that I had no idea what measurements to use for any of the ingredients. I asked my mom how much flour to add into the bowl, and she just told me to add however much we needed for the amount of dumplings we were going to make.
For me, this was a completely useless piece of advice, as I had no bearing of how much flour I needed for the three plates of dumplings I wanted to end up with. As someone who always uses online recipes with exact measurements, having to trust someone else’s judgement proved to be difficult.
Rather than using precisely two cups of water or seven cups of flour, everything was by feel. I’d start pouring flour into the bowl, and my mom would tell me when to stop. It was extremely challenging not to be in control, and I was unsure of how the results would turn out.
But after mixing the ingredients together, they magically formed a perfectly workable ball of dough. Together, my mom and I shaped the dough into small discs, ready to be folded into dumplings.
In a similar manner, we added ground pork, scallion, ginger and Chinese leek into a bowl and mixed it all together into a slimy concoction.
After preparing the filling, I was back in familiar territory. Dumpling-wrapping with my family had been a yearly tradition for as long as I could remember, and I enjoyed being able to take time out of my busy schedule to peacefully reminisce on my childhood and have quality conversations about life and current events with my mom.
Although I’d love to say I’m a master at wrapping dumplings, my dumplings still weren’t as carefully crafted as my mom’s. When I was younger, I used to shape the dumpling wrappers into houses and other odd shapes, as I could never achieve the gently curved, slightly-crinkled look that all of my relatives created with ease. While I have a bit more experience now, my dumplings still look rather misshapen.
With the freshly-wrapped dumplings, we were in the final stages. Instead of the traditional boiled dumplings, we decided to give the skin a more crispy finish by frying them in a pan, creating potstickers. We added the oil and dumplings to the pan, and soon, our kitchen was full of sizzling sounds and delicious smells.
As we set the finished potstickers onto a plate, I could hardly wait to try them. My mom called my family down to eat, and they all ran down the stairs, excited to indulge in our family’s signature dumplings. We sat down, and I couldn’t help but feel accomplished as my mom put the steaming plates of dumplings onto the dinner table.
Illustration by Emily Xia
Of course, the dumplings were delicious. Like all of my other dumpling-eating experiences, the evening was filled with conversation and laughter, as well as new memories.
Looking back on my experience, I learned so much more than just how to make dumplings. Watching my mom perfectly estimate how much of each ingredient she needed was completely eye-opening. Having to put away the measuring cups and spoons was a challenge, but trusting my instincts ended up being spontaneous and fun. Instead of focusing on which measuring cup to use, I was able to collaborate with my mom, trusting her judgments.
I never realized how important and valuable family recipes could be. Living in a digital world blinded me from the fact that although almost everything is easily accessible within an arm’s reach, family recipes are filled with tradition and culture, with memories and life. They’re irreplaceable.
I’m beyond excited that I can take this piece of my lineage with me for the rest of my life, and continue to pass it along to others. However, I’m not nearly finished. There’s so much that I have to learn about what my mom does behind-the-scenes. If I don’t learn all of it, it’ll be lost forever — this library of hidden knowledge that the rest of the world is oblivious to.
Though it may be taken for granted, every dish on the dinner table, every piece of art on the wall and every small tradition is a symbol of culture and family.
Dumplings: a delicious combination of meat-and-veggie filling encased in a soft shell, ready to be dipped into soy sauce or vinegar.
And most importantly, they represent my love and dedication to my family and my culture.
Illustration by Emily Xia
Recipe (not all measurements are completely accurate, feel free to experiment):
Ingredients:
6 ¾ cups all-purpose flour
3 1/2 cups water
1 egg
1 pound pork
2 ounces scallion
1 ounce ginger
10 ounces chinese leek
¼ cup soy sauce
1 teaspoon salt
Big pinch of white pepper
Big pinch of ginger powder
1 tablespoon sesame oil
Flour for dusting plates
¼ cup cooking wine
7 ounces canola oil
Instructions:
Crack and beat egg into small mixing bowl.
Pour flour, two cups of water and the mixed egg into a large mixing bowl. Mix with hands until well combined into a sticky dough.
Leave dough in bowl and cover to let it rest.
Wash the pork, scallion, ginger and Chinese leek. Put pork in the other large mixing bowl.
Cut up scallion, ginger and Chinese leek into tiny pieces and put in large mixing bowl. Mix until well combined.
Add white pepper, ginger powder, sesame oil, salt, ¼ cup of water and soy sauce into mixture and stir until it is fully mixed.
Take dough off of cutting board and put cutting board aside. Take dough out and knead for five minutes or until dough has no more stiff areas where cracking is possible.
Dust cutting board, plates and rolling pin with flour. Cut off ⅓ of the dough using other chef knife and put the other ⅔ back in the bowl.
Knead the small amount of dough carefully for three minutes. Then, poke a hole in the center and thin out the edges to make it look like a large donut.
Cut ring so dough turns into a long worm and roll the dough with your hand to make it thinner.
Cut off chunks ¾ inch wide and one inch tall. Round out each chunk and using rolling pin, flatten into thin circles three inches in diameter.
Repeat steps eight to eleven for the other ⅔ of dough, using ⅓ of the dough at a time.
Take a thin circle and use another pair of chopsticks to add a small piece of the chinese leek and pork mixture into the center. Fold the circle in half, being careful not to let any spill out. Close the edges tightly with fingers. Do this with all of the other thin circles of dough.
Heat up the large skillet on low heat and add two ounces of canola oil. Spread oil so it covers the bottom of the skillet and carefully add your raw potstickers until skillet is full. Put on lid and wait two minutes.
Lift up lid and add 1/3 cup of water. Put lid back on and wait for a few minutes until potstickers become puffy. After they become puffy, wait another minute and then turn heat off. Without taking off lid, wait another 3 minutes until they are done.
Put cooked potstickers on a serving platter and repeat steps 14-15 two more times. If you still have raw potstickers after you repeat two more times, cook the rest with half the oil and water.