My life in China, Part 16- Jiaozi full of love

Let’s warm the soul with a great topic: Dumplings. It’s a snowy winter day here in the Boston area, and my wife and I will be making the little devils for the Spring Festival (as is our tradition). In Chinese, they are generally called jiǎozi, and once discovered, they are essential to life. Many cultures have dumplings in the form of dough filled with stuff. Italians have ravioli and tortellini. The Polish have perogies, the Ukrainians have varenyky, the Russians have pelmeni, and dumplings are quite common in other Asian countries like Japan, Korea, and Vietnam. But the Chinese took dumplings to a whole different level, especially in the Northeast of the country.

For those of you who have only had the pathetic pork dumplings from an American Chinese food restaurant, I’m so sorry. Sure, they may have tasted ok, but those globs of dough and MSG are not what I’m talking about here. They are poor representatives of the form. When I entered China, I too thought I knew dumplings. Boy, was I mistaken.

Next to Hebei University, there was a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, a place I would have never had tried if I wasn’t with the locals. It was small and dirty, and all they served was dumplings. Steam billowed out of the storefront, and the windows dripped with condensation. Inside it was crowded, foggy, and humid. Glasses misted up as soon as you entered, adding to the disorientation. Weaving through the mass of hunched and slurping forms, you choose a cheap plastic stool, poured yourself a bit of jiǎozi cù (a black vinegar made from sorghum), add some chilies if your so bold, and take a pair of chopsticks. You wipe the drool from your lips and prepare for the magic of a steaming plate of white pillows filled with joy.

A restaurant that only serves dumplings? “How boring,” you may say until you see the menu and realize the possibilities in the realm. Sure, there is pork, but this is not American pork. Americans breed their pigs to be lean and generally flavorless. The animals are all fed the same and processed the same. They discard the tasty bits, place the pink meat (with only a smidgen of beautiful white fat) on Styrofoam trays, wrap it in cellophane, and call this monstrosity pork. Chinese pork is what pork should be. They feed the pigs with a varied diet. Do they treat the animals well? Of course not, it’s a developing country, but they are tasty. If you’ve been to China, you may have seen big blue barrels dripping with grease and soy sauce sitting outside restaurants or toted behind little trucks weaving throughout the cities. These barrels are filled with restaurant waste destined for the pig farm. Chinese pork is fatty, tender, full of flavor, and much missed.

But pork is not the only meat out there that can be tucked away in a warm bed of dough. There is also chicken, lamb, beef, goat, and exotic meats like donkey (especially in Baoding). There is egg, tofu, and seafood galore. Also, it is not just the meat of these animals that join the fun. Remember, the Chinese waste nothing, and organs can make their way to the party too. You may wrinkle your nose, but sometimes magical things can happen with a bit of kidney, tripe, or liver added to the filling. Often, these proteins are combined together to create something greater than their whole. My mother-in-law’s go-to filling is shrimp, pork, and chive, and these home-cooked wonders are to die for.

But don’t forget the veggies. Chive is undoubtedly a favorite addition (especially in the north), but mushroom, corn, tomato, green onion, carrot, turnip, cabbage, fennel, celery, green pepper, winter melon, squash, red bean, potato, green bean etc., can all be added to the mix. Sometimes there is a bit of spice joining the fun with chilies, numb pepper, or cumin. Dumplings can be steamed, boiled, or pan-fried. Some are savory, and others sweet, like the BBQ pork filling you often see in the south. The possibilities are endless! On a cold winter day (like today if you’re in New England), there is nothing like a hot steaming plate of dumplings.

But there is more to dumplings than just a spectacular gastronomical experience. Dumplings are part of the Chinese culture. Making them can be a bit labor-intensive, but it is also a communal event that helps build bonds, and eating them around a table full of friends and family is a joyous occasion.

The first time I met my in-laws was during Spring Festival, and the star of the Spring Festival menu is, of course, dumplings. I watched in awe as my mother-in-law whipped up two gloriously fatty mixtures. One, the go-to of pork, shrimp, and chive. The other, pork and the northeast staple of suān cài or pickled cabbage (similar to sauerkraut). Then with ease, she produced the silkiest smooth dough kneaded to perfection- something my wife and I still can’t get quite right. She then rolled this dough into a log and tore off little nubs to produce the almost transparent skins. With one hand, she held a wooden dowel, and the other a circle of dough, creating small pancakes with ease that eagerly awaited their filling. Then, we all sat around the kitchen table, and I baby-stepped into making my first dumplings as a member of the family. Boy, did we laugh, as my frumpy leaking jiaozi took up residence next to the perfectly crafted fat pillows of the experts. Finally, we gorged ourselves on bowl after bowl of steaming goodness until midnight and the pop, crack, and bang of the fireworks.

The tradition of making dumplings continued the first time my wife met my parents. Again, laughs abound. When my parents finally met my in-laws, what did we do? You guessed it. We made dumplings (this time wontons to be exact). And what do my wife and I bring when we get together with my family for Thanksgiving or Christmas? Again dumplings. These beautiful packages of love have eked their way to becoming part of my family’s tradition as well. They are begged for, savored, and if we don’t bring them, watch out! My wife does most of the work (and that is for the best, my big hands just get in the way), but I have just about perfected a spicy, salty, sweet dipping sauce.

I had many great experiences in China. Some were monumental and life-changing. It is easy to focus on these big events in life, but sometimes the little things, like making dumplings with family, are the real magic. So, as I roll up my sleeves and get ready to knead the dough as the snow falls, I smile at my wife, say, “here we go again,” and get to work making memories.

Cheers!