The case for homemade dumpling wrappers

10 years back, a Taiwanese mummy friend once confided in me in a mock whisper that a Taiwanese mother wasn’t worth her salt as a cook if she didn’t know how to make dumpling skin from scratch.

My limited mandarin skills couldn’t assert the expression “get out?!” with quite the same punch so I let my jaw drop and my eyes cross. Evidently, my look of horror was indicative enough that I was worth neither salt nor dumpling because I’d depended on those factory-made life savers for years. Abashedly, I admitted to her that I didn’t make my own dumpling wrappers. Maybe she felt pity for me so she hastily and cheerfully added that neither did she.

For years I rationalized that since I wasn’t Taiwanese, I didn’t have to live up to their cultural expectations. But curiosity got the better of me one weekend, plus I was tired of the hour drive to the Asian grocery shop in Ithaca whenever I was low on dumpling wraps and of the many times I couldn’t make dumplings because I didn’t have a ready stash in the fridge.

Dumpling skin is simply flour and water. Anyone who has made pie crust, bread dough or similar would intuitively know how to fashion the dumpling dough with warm water and a teeny bit of oil. The dough came together and it didn’t look perfect. The recipe assured that it was perfectly fine as it was and that allowing it to rest would allow the gluten proteins to work their magic in enabling pliable dough. While the dough sat and stared, I got busy with salting cabbage leaves for my meat and vegetable filling, and the necessary greens like garlic chives and spring onions.

Now, garlic chives dumplings are possibly my favourite kind. When we lived in Taiwan, we were walking distance (25 mins or so) to a small Ma and Grandma shop that made the most flavourful garlic chives dumplings -- ever. I thrived on them for many lunch meals. My fat year-old baby loved them and so did the older kids. Then, one day when I took my Taiwanese neighbour to the dumpling shop and ordered the usual for my kids and myself, she was surprised that I didn’t order the plainer, non-garlic chives variety for my kids. She claimed that her kids wouldn’t touch them complaining of its overpowering taste. Well, I gleefully thought to myself,  “more garlic chives dumplings for me then!”

Sometimes I get updates about the two little ladies who run the dumpling store. “They’ve asked about you”, wrote my close Taiwanese friend one time. I’d like to think I’d single-handedly boosted their business during those 2 years. I hope they will be around for as long as garlic chives dumplings are a staple of Taiwanese cuisine.

I didn’t steam or boil up the dumplings as the recipe suggested to thoroughly savour the taste and texture of homemade wraps. I will tell you that I slaved all afternoon making those damn dumplings and will spare you the doubtful thoughts, (and several curses under my breath when I forgot to sprinkle flour on the wrapped dumplings and they all stuck together like a possessed long dumpling train) that played in my mind as to whether homemade dumplings from scratch were really worth all that time.

Sigh, they were.