Dumplings, Five Ways
By Sharona Lin
My parents are great cooks, but not much for ostentatiousness. My childhood dinners were
simple, with little fanfare – steamed rice, with vegetables, meat and tofu, always cooked in a wok. Now that I live out of home, I miss those days. However, as children, my sister and I usually found our simple dinner boring. This is why we loved dumplings so much.
A few times a year, my parents would set aside a Sunday, make dumpling skins, prepare mountains of mince and cabbage, and we would spend a day making dumplings. Then we’d boil some, fry some, freeze the rest, and eat. A lot.
I contend that the homely, simple dumpling is in fact one of life’s great pleasures. Why else would almost every culture on the planet have this dish, in some variation, otherwise?
Dumplings are, essentially, little balls of dough with fillings inside. Technically, they don’t need to have fillings to be dumplings, it’s just a fairly common trait. And having grown up with traditional Chinese dumplings, I don’t really consider a dumpling a dumpling if it’s filling-free.
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So, here are dumpling, five ways.
via Rasa Malaysia
Let’s start with Chinese dumplings, or jiaozi. There are plenty of variations, but at its heart, it’s a thin piece of dough filled with finely chopped, delicious ingredients. My parents made them with spring onions, mince and leafy vegetables, but it’s easy to mix up whatever delicious, fresh ingredients you want and wrap them in dumpling wrappers. For a vegetarian version, I do spring onions, shitake mushrooms, wombok and bean curd. As long as you use fresh ingredients, and plenty of flavour enhancers (salt, ginger, soy sauce, Chinese wine, Chinese vinegar and sesame oil are all good bets).
There are a few ways to cook them: boil them (you can either drain the water, or you can take the opportunity to turn it into a soup), steam them, or fry them (my mum’s technique: drizzle
oil in a wok, put the dumplings in there to let them get crispy, and then add water and cover until cooked through).
There are dozens of different dumplings, each slightly different, in China, including xiaolongbao, wonton and tangyuan, but there’s no doubt that when you think ‘dumpling’ in China, you’re thinking of jiaozi.
Via The Suburban Soapbox
Some legends say the pierogi came to Eastern Europe from China, or that they were a sign of
gratitude for a saint. Wherever they came from, they’re amazing, and rival my love of jiaozi.
Pierogi are a classic Polish dish, but are found throughout Eastern Europe, including in Russia,
Ukraine, Slovakia and Romania, where they are known as pirogi, varenyky, pirohy and
colÈ›unaÈ™i. Each of these vary, but the kind you’re most likely to find in Australia, are pierogi. These are typically made with a thicker dough than jiaozi are, and are generally filled with denser ingredients too. My favourites are pierogi ruskie, with cheese, potato and onions, but pierogi with meat and sauerkraut are also popular.
In my opinion, the best place to get pierogi is at your local Polish club.
Via Sailus Food
Samosas are the golden, deep-fried, Indian dumplings of my dreams. The flour shell is stuffed
with a mixture of mashed potatoes, onions, peas and spices, and deep-fried to a perfect, crunchy, crispy golden brown.
As with all dumplings, plenty of variations exist – different takes on samosas can be found in Nepal, Bangladesh, Pakistan and also in several Central Asian countries. Most of these don’t
contain meat, which was great when I was a vegetarian (ten years, ask me about it sometime). Fresh samosas from restaurants are your best bet – without a deepfryer, I’m reluctant to tackle
the task of making them from scratch, so I can’t recommend a recipe. Plenty of South Asian restaurants do excellent fresh samosas. Don’t go storebought – a frozen samosa that comes in
a box with spring rolls and sausage rolls is unlikely to be one you’ll love.
Via Madeline Lu
Pasta is great. You know what’s better? Little pasta dumplings stuffed with delicious fillings.
Actually, that was a lie – all pasta is equally delicious.
But I do love ravioli. ‘Traditional’ ravioli is filled with ricotta cheese, spinach, nutmeg and black pepper in Rome and Latium, whereas in Sardinia, they are traditionally made with ricotta and lemon rind.
In a hangover from my vegetarian days, I’m fondest of a simple spinach and ricotta ravioli. But again, the beauty of the dumpling is that it’s endlessly customisable. Traditionalists from Rome might shudder at the thought, but I’ve enjoyed all manner of ravioli fillings – including mushrooms, sweet potato, beef – and hope to enjoy plenty more.
Fresh ravioli is miles ahead of storebought, although you may need to set aside a solid afternoon to make pasta sheet wrappers and go about the process of making perfect ravioli parcels. It’s easier if you’re not a perfectionist, and tastes just as good.
Via Broadsheet
And finally, the humble dim sim, the recurring character of every suburban Australian swimming
pool canteen. Chlorine just doesn’t smell quite right without the aroma of dim sims and salty potato cakes (potato scallops, if you prefer).
I chose dim sims because they’re a perfect example of food from one culture being adapted by another culture. The “original” recipe for the dim sim (credited to William Wing Young) is made
of spring onions, twice-minced pork, prawns, water chestnuts and soy sauce in a custom dumpling skin.
I can’t say I’ve ever eaten a dim sim from anywhere other than a bainmarie in a train station or swimming pool, but that’s part of its charm. So why not embrace it?