How to Make a Chinese Dumpling

I've been fortunate. That's a simple but honest statement. It's also a good place to start: This past fall, I was introduced to a Chinese Anthropologist on loan from Beijing, courtesy of a Fulbright Scholarship. Yongjia came to North Carolina to teach for a year and while his grasp of English is better than some of my students, he was new to the U.S., and certainly new to rural North Carolina. My colleagues, my wife, and I have been doing our best to provide Yongjia with quintessentially American experiences. I've even tried to teach him how to drive a car.

This past weekend, in celebration of the Chinese New Year, Yongjia gave back. He taught us how to make dumplings.

The Thing About Food

Ingredients for dumpling wrappers:

Flour

Water

Ingredients for dumpling filling:

Ground pork

Cabbage

Celery

Green Onion

Oil

Soy Sauce

Chinese 13 Spice

Salt

Much of that "quintessentially American experiences" thing revolves around food. Food is the great barometer of culture. Sure, you can spot the usual cultural markers of a foreign locale—clothing, social custom, speech—but food is always the best way to immerse, to understand. And yeah, I spent six months living (and eating) in Naples, Italy, sampled local cuisine from Amalfi to Venice, but one of the first things I did after getting hired to teach in Lexington, North Carolina was tour the best of the Lexington-style barbeque joints. I’m still amazed that a mere 35 miles can translate to fundamentally different notions of cuisine. And damn that barbecue is good.

My dear friend Gerald (from Virtual Bourgeois) gave Yongjia—fresh (or not so fresh) off the plane—his first experience with drive-thru fast food. We later took him to a Chinese Buffet restaurant where I expected to uncover a dastardly plot—one where Americans were being fed inauthentic food under the cheap, flashy guise of "Chinese" food. Fortune cookies, after all, are nothing but a sweet lie!

Turns out, our little buffet place hits not that far from the mark, according to Yongjia.

But I needed more than that. As a self-professed foodie/chef, I wanted to learn how to make something authentic. When Yongjia mentioned that he was going to make dumplings for the New Year celebration, I jumped at the opportunity to assist.

As you might suspect, much of what I learned was really about process. Yongjia even mentioned that making dumplings doesn't involve much skill—or ancient Chinese secrets (har har)—but is mostly just a labor intensive undertaking. This was the same, fundamental lesson I learned working in a restaurant kitchen: It's all about prep and process.

A Late Start

First, make dough for dumpling wrappers (see below).

Finely chop equal cabbage and celery.

Finely chop green onions.

Combine vegetables with ground pork and seasonings.

The wife and I arrived at our host's after Yongjia had already started. What we found was this: Gerald was camped out by the sink hacking away at some celery with a cleaver. Yongjia was beginning to season some of the ground pork. In another bowl was a large mass of dough.

Spying Gerald's less than enthusiastic chopping, I took over and proceeded to chop the celery down to a fine (if not precise) mince. Half of this was tossed into another bowl. Yongjia then asked me to make short work of a small bunch of green onions. When these were done, half went into the bowl with the celery. The rest was reserved for later.

(My wife was spirited away by a spirited child and didn't rejoin the process until later.)

I should probably give a little more background about our host: One of our dear colleagues, a psychology instructor (doctor, animal psychology specialist), hosted our New Year celebration. This was the first time that my wife, Mandy, and I had been to Julie's house, and helping to make a big mess in her kitchen seemed like the most appropriate way to "make ourselves at home"!

Now, cooking in someone else's kitchen always presents problems for me (no offense to the hosts, of course, but I find it's like competing in the Tour De France on someone else's bike!), but since I wasn't running the show—and there was beer—we had no problems. Also, Julie's large kitchen island was a great work space for the dumpling assembly line that was about to be created.

Back to the cooking: It was after my chopping that I spied the cabbage. The cabbage, minced in the same fashion as the celery and green onion, had been soaking in water. Yongjia strained this, dumped it in with the pork and mixed it up. He added the celery and green onion and did the same.

In with the pork, cabbage, celery, and green onion went some oil, salt, and soy sauce. Yongjia commented that he liked more soy sauce—so I encouraged him "More! More!" The object (the hard part in a non-measured cooking experience) was to add the malty flavor of soy sauce while balancing the sodium/salt. We might have added a little more soy sauce and the dumplings would have been even better for it.

Let's talk about that phrase "non-measured cooking experience." I asked about recipe, about measurements, and Yongjia only offered rough proportions. That is, the recipe depends on the quantity—and the quantity depends on the intended outcome. We were making dumplings for a medium sized party (25-30 people). That translated, in Yongjia's chef-mind, to making roughly 200 dumplings. I'm used to cooking this way, so I think I've got the proportions down (though I will double check with Yongjia to be sure!).

For this size of a batch, Yongjia whipped up about 4 lbs of dough (we used most of a 5 lb bag of all-purpose flour; roughly 3 ½ lbs for initial dough and ½ lb to a 1 lb to mix in and roll out). He bought two packages of ground pork that I would weigh at about 2 ½ lbs. Vegetable-wise, we cut through a full head each of celery and cabbage, as well as a typical bunching of green onions.

The ratio of pork to vegetable mixture (cabbage, celery, green onion) was probably about 1:1. The ratio of cabbage to celery was also 1:1. Finally, green onion to celery was about 1:4. To get a better sense of the proportions, I'll add that I later learned that the separating of bowls (when first chopping) was to create two batches of filling. What we were looking at, in the end, was a mixture ratio that started with about 1 ¼ lbs of ground pork (one packet) to roughly 1 cup each of minced celery and cabbage, and about a quarter cup of green onion. If you were to start with half the amount of dough (roughly a 2 lb ball), then you'd get a nice sized batch of dumplings (100) for home use.

Okay, seasoning was done by sight and smell. Because you can't really taste a raw pork mixture, it's best to take a good whiff. Mandy and I smell everything when we cook. I tend to rely more on my smell than taste as I'm cooking. Like the soy sauce that I mentioned earlier, we could have used a pinch or two more of everything—and we would have ended up with a bit more aggressively spiced dumplings.

The "secret" ingredient is not so much a secret as it is a "no idea what the 13 different spices" are that comprise Chinese 13 spice. In the past, I've used Chinese 5 spice; Yongjia says that it will work as a substitute. The little purple package that Yongjia brought with him (from China) was marked only with Chinese characters and a picture of all the spices. I could spot the ginger, star anise, and a few others, but couldn't guess the rest! Suffice to say, the finished product had a pronounced anise flavor that was nice if a bit unexpected (given the dumplings I've had at Chinese restaurants). Yongjia also mentioned that there are some 500 different dumpling varieties available throughout China (and probably just as many more given the variety of region, personal and family taste).

About That Dough

Create a stiff dough with flour and water.

Let rest in warm, humid location.

Knead in more flour.

Because I missed the initial mixing, I have to rely on what I first saw and Yongjia's recounting of the process. When I first spied the dough, it looked like, well, dough. And a lot of it. The dough itself is just a simple, stiff mixture of water and flour. The initial mix involves creating a pretty stiff dough that then gets to rest in a warm and humid environment. Yongjia mentioned leaving the dough to rest in a warm place with a wet cloth over the bowl. The idea, I gather, is to give the dough time to relax a bit before working more flour into it.

This is all done by hand, of course. Yongjia told us that when dumplings are being made for an event (such as the New Year celebration), the women of the house turn the strenuous kneading task over to the men.

This is to make the men feel strong—and needed.

It might also bear mentioning now that this process of dumpling creation, in China, is very assembly line oriented. A task of making 200 dumplings becomes short work when the whole family is assigned a position in the line of making. Yongjia told us that when he was young, his assigned task was squashing out the dough with his palm. More about that later.

For now, I'll add that Yongjia's kneading technique was different from mine. I learned how to knead from my mother, who I’m sure learned from her mother. I think it's safe to say my technique is a traditionally western technique that goes something like this: Rest dough ball on work surface. Press into it with both hands, palms together. Use one hand to fold outside edge into the center and press in. Turn dough around to fold other end into the center and press in. Flip over dough and start again. And again. And again. I usually work myself into a nice syncopated rhythm.

Yongjia's technique was a little less "whole" dough oriented. That is, he would work small outside edges of the dough with both hands in a very rapid motion. It looked almost like he was tearing small pieces off of the outside edge—but that's not what he was doing. Using both hands, he would kind of hold the bulk of the dough in one hand and work the outside edge in one place, pressing, squeezing and pulling almost all at once—occasionally working in bits of flour as he moved around the edge, in a counter-clockwise motion.

In the end, it really doesn't matter which way one kneads. The object is to work in as much flour as you can to make a very dry, stiff dough. Because we were on a schedule, Yongjia felt like we rushed this part a bit and the dough could have used even more working (especially as we got closer to the end—and closer to the start of the party).

One final thing: We worked in batches. When we first broke out the dough for its finishing knead, Yongjia lifted the dough into the air and twisted it in half. This is a typical dough technique (if with a bit more of a flourish!): Work with only a portion of the dough at a time to make sure it doesn't dry out—and so you don't mis-judge the moisture content.

From Stiff Dough to Dumpling Discs

With hands, roll dough into long snake(s).

Portion and shape dough pieces into flat discs.

Roll discs with pin until thin at edges and slightly thicker in the middle.

Once the dough was to a good firmness and texture, Yongjia selected a portion and rolled it out into a long snake. The dough snake was about 1 inch thick when Yongjia grabbed the end of the snake, measured out a portion with his thumb, pointer and middle fingers and tore it off in a quick, horizontal motion. He then took the piece of dough and stood it up on the work surface (like a squat tower of dough). He repeated this motion, with lightening speed until the snake was gone.

To mimic this motion: Get a thick permanent marker. Hold it in one hand (not dominant). Take your other hand (dominant) and press the tip of the pen to the side of your middle finger, rest your pointer over the pen, and stick the tip of your thumb to the side of the pen. Slide your other hand up to meet the thumb. This is the general position for tearing off the dough pieces. Imagine that the pen is the dough and you're going to rip its head off!

Then, like Godzilla, Yongjia rampaged through the village of dough towers, squashing them all into flat discs.

There's a test here: If the dough is too sticky, then the dough pieces won't squash nicely and the breaking-off motion noted above doesn't happen as smoothly. The squashing process, though, still requires a lightly floured hand.

After the squashing comes the rolling.

Before the party, at work, Yongjia mentioned that he hadn't been able to find the right rolling tool. His description of what he was looking for amounted to a kind of dowel rod—not quite as thick as a traditional rolling pin. I called up an image on Google of a French rolling pin. He said that might work, so I brought him mine.

Yongjia rolled the squashed dough discs into thin, mostly round dumpling wrappers. Now, this is a point where I wasn't (initially) sure of the reason, but I'll write what I was told: The discs should be rolled out with a slight tapering, where the center of the disc is thicker than the edges. My inclination was to roll them out evenly, but this wasn't right by Yongjia's directions.

I guess it has to do with the sturdiness and evenness of the finished product. That is, the dough wrapper is closed around the filling, edges pressed together to form the final shape of the dumpling. When this happens, the edges get doubled up, leaving the overall thickness of the dumpling wrapper even. Also, the thicker middle ensures that the filling doesn't push its way through the bottom in assembly and cooking.

Further Down the Assembly Line

Place small amount of filling into center of disc.

Pinch ends together to form dumpling.

Okay, all parts at this point have been explained. Now comes assembly. At first, it wasn't an efficient line. My wife rejoined us while all of the above was happening, and she even did a bit of kneading of the dough. Her expertise, however, truly shined at the assembly phase. Here again, I'll tip a hat to our kitchen working. I usually do the grunt prep work (the chopping and kneading). She does the finishing. In that respect, she is the executive and I am the sous!

Anyway, when Yongjia began to assemble the dumplings, a few other party guests arrived, two of whom were the young girls of a colleague—both of whom are ardent followers of my wife. The eldest wanted to help. It was sweet, surely, but her presence slowed down the production line!

The basic assembly involved using chopsticks to grab a bit of the filling and dab it into the center of a waiting wrapper. Then the wrapper is pinched across the center, and then… this is where the magic fingers come into play. A certain technique, involving folding, pinching, turning, then more folding and pinching until… voila! A dumpling!

I am writing this with the expectation that my wife will chime in to comment on her technique. She was at the end of the line, closely watching Yongjia, and mastered the art of creating a perfect dumpling. I was at the front of the line, kneading the rest of the dough, rolling it out, creating the dough towers, squashing and then rolling them out. I did manage to make a few of the dumplings (mine turned out more like pierogi!)—and one of them, under the tutelage of my wife, I managed to make perfectly! I then promptly forgot how I'd done it and, well… Let's just say that, in the future, I will rely on my wife to assemble the dumplings!

To The Stove!

Set water to boil.

Boil large batches of dumplings for ten minutes.

Drain and serve.

So, we didn't quite finish the dumplings before the party started. Because guests were arriving (right into the center of our production) and wanted to assist, I stayed at the front of the line, my wife stayed at the end of the line, and Yongjia floated in the middle, managing those who joined and left, learning bits and pieces of the process as we brought it to a close.

Because there were so many dumplings, we had a hard time finding a place to store them before cooking. The finished dumplings need to be kept separated—otherwise, in the humid air of the kitchen, they might fuse together. We wound up with cookie sheets and serving platters of various shapes and sizes, loaded down with a hodge-podge of dumplings ranging from perfect to horrifying. Luckily, they all tasted good.

Now, when it came time to cook them, I think maybe Yongjia mis-stepped. It was certainly not his fault. Rather, I don't think he was used to cooking with a glass-top stove in a typical-American-kitchen-stock-pot. Our host's stockpot was certainly a good, 8-qt pot. But Yongjia's inclination was to dump as many as he could possibly fit into 8 quarts of boiling water—all to be cooked for about 10 minutes.

This didn't work so well for several reasons. Primary of them is the fact that glass-top stoves struggle to heat (and maintain a boil) when so loaded down. The results were fine, but I might have instead chosen to boil the dumplings in smaller batches. I am also tempted to try steaming them in small batches to keep the wrappers from soaking in too much water.

When the dumplings were fully cooked, Yongjia fished them out of the pot with a slotted spoon and dumped them onto waiting platters to be devoured. Again, if we'd not been under the gun to feed, I might have preferred to get them first into a colander and then onto a platter so that we wouldn't end up with soggy dumplings!

Maybe even toss them with a touch of oil to keep them separated…

To Dip Or Not To Dip

Mix soy sauce and vinegar to taste for dipping.

The finished products were most excellent. As is the case when I make dumplings for my version of chicken paprikash, or when I make pierogi or gnocchi, I can eat handfuls right out of the colander (or in this case right off the platter). But, dipping sauces are also part of the experience. Yongjia told us that the most basic, the most traditional dipping sauce is just a simple mixture (to taste) of soy sauce and vinegar. I'm reminded of the big (and often annoying) show of sauce-making at P.F. Chang's China Bistro. The combination of soy, vinegar, pepper oil, hot mustard, and chili paste would have been most scrumptious with our dumplings.

The wife and I took home a Ziploc bag full (after more beer, lots of fireworks, and a few pictures).

Mandy experimented with sauces, and we fried up the last of them (in a skillet with a bit of oil). I love them fried. The extra little crispy is my favorite!

The whole experience was great. Mandy and I will make another attempt on our own soon. I've already been thinking of how to streamline production!