Robin Xu Murphy sits at the head of her dining room table with her 4-year-old daughter cradled on her lap. Little Catherine looks very happy and content, basking in her mother’s love and nibbling on a just-boiled Chinese dumpling. A faint, rhythmic pounding can be heard from the kitchen of Murphy’s modest home in Chicago’s Mayfair neighborhood. While she takes a short break to talk about dumplings, Murphy’s parents are hard at work rolling out and filling the last of what amounts to nearly 100 pork and napa cabbage dumplings made in just less than three hours.
Murphy, 43, is the modern American mom, juggling kids and a freelance career that takes her around the United States offering diversity training and serving as a translator for corporate clients. Yet this native of China’s Inner Mongolia autonomous region will pause with her family to laboriously and lovingly fashion dozens of pork dumplings throughout the year and especially now at Chinese New Year, which falls on Jan. 29 this year.
The dumplings are delicious: little crescents of dough stuffed with ground pork spliced with lots of minced ginger, cabbage and green onion, then moistened with aromatic sesame oil and other seasonings.
While there’s always a probable excuse to make them, dumplings hold special symbolism at the new year, which is also known as the Spring Festival. The name in Chinese, jiaozi (JOW-za), means midnight or the end and the beginning of time, according to the Web site of the China Daily newspaper.
The deftly pleated pockets of dough also look rather like purses or the ancient gold ingots of China. As such, dumplings symbolize good fortune or the promise thereof. And that counts any time of year.
“My mother also makes them before I travel, for good luck, and on my birthday,” Murphy says.
Making dumplings is work, yes, and familiar enough around the Murphy household that her 11-year-old son, Joseph, prefers to go to a friend’s house for pizza. But Murphy says dumpling-making is a party in and of itself, a time to gather family and friends to create something delicious out of relatively humble ingredients.
“Dumpling time is a good communication time,” she says.
Experience of a lifetime
Watching the formation of the dumplings is to marvel at a well-choreographed dance of hands constantly in motion: dicing, stirring, rolling, filling and shaping. Murphy and her 75-year-old father, Xu Wenlin, and 68-year-old mother, Cao Zaisheng, share the dance. (Murphy took her husband’s surname when she Westernized her name. Not all Chinese wives use their husband’s name; the Chinese traditionally put the family name first and the given name last.)
There’s no fancy equipment, just a plastic bowl for making the dough, a metal bowl for the filling and a couple of pairs of chopsticks. There’s a pot for boiling and an old saute pan for frying.
Murphy occasionally will use a food processor to chop the ingredients. The big danger there is over-processing the vegetables into mush. But her parents prefer to do the knife work themselves to retain that prized texture. The family doesn’t use measuring cups or spoons in making the dumplings, relying instead on years of experience.
Cao can tell by looking and feeling whether the dough needs more water or flour to become the right consistency, smooth and ear-lobe soft. She splits the dough into three smaller balls and covers them to keep the dough from drying out.
One at a time, she takes out one of the balls and slowly works it into a doughnut shape, then she breaks open the ring of dough and rolls it with her fingers into a long snake. Xu then takes over, picking up the dough in one hand and using the fingers of the other to snap off small pieces of dough. These pieces are rolled into balls about the size of cherry tomatoes and flattened slightly.
Now Murphy steps in. With practiced skill, she rapidly rolls a small wooden dowel across the flattened lump of dough. She holds the dough between her thumb and forefinger, turning it counterclockwise as she rolls the dough into a thin round circle that will soon hold the dumpling filling.
Murphy, Xu and Cao pick up chopsticks and begin to form the dumplings. Each puts a scant tablespoon of filling on a dough circle, folds the dough in half and then begins pleating and pinching the dumpling closed. A firm, impermeable seal is important, Murphy says, or the cooking water will get into the dumpling and dilute the flavor.
Each member of the family has his or her own style of pleating, and you can tell in one glance whose is whose. Xu doesn’t fool around; his dumplings are shaped with few pleats. Cao, on the other hand, produces dumplings with pleats that appear almost frilly.
“My mother makes the prettiest dumplings,” Murphy says admiringly. Her own style is a cross between her parents’.
The family works intensely, but there is still room for bantering. When Xu suggests there’s no need to squeeze the vegetables dry, his wife laughs and shoots back a retort in Chinese.
“My mother says don’t listen to him,” Murphy translates with a smile.
Dumplings are traditionally enjoyed boiled in China, where they are called shui jiao (shway-JOW), or water dumpling.
A pot of water is brought to a boil, and Cao quickly drops a dozen or so dumplings into the pot. She gives the dumplings a gentle stir and waits for the water to come back to the boil. Then she pours in a cup of cold water to stop the boiling. Cao does this three times; the dumplings are cooked.
Cao fishes the dumplings out of the pot with a spoon and onto a plate. Served alongside is a dipping sauce made of sesame oil, five mashed garlic cloves and a Chinese black vinegar whose inky intensity is akin to a fine balsamic vinegar from Italy.
The family tastes this first batch. Good but not great. The ground pork, purchased from a large supermarket chain, is too lean for their taste. More oil and ground ginger are needed, Xu decides. The remaining filling is adjusted accordingly.
This is sturdy fare, enough for a substantial meal. If Murphy has Chinese friends over, they will make a whole dinner of dumplings, followed by a broth made from the hot water used for boiling the dumplings. The flavor of this broth is very mild, almost like macaroni without the butter. The blandness serves as a restorative after the assertive flavors of the dumpling and the dipping sauce, she says.
The pork and napa cabbage filling used by Murphy and her family is one of the most popular in China, but there are variations. Xu, for example, likes to use celery instead of the cabbage. Islamic families, forbidden by religion from eating pork, use beef or lamb
instead. There are shrimp dumplings and vegetarian dumplings and chicken-stuffed dumplings too.
Murphy doesn’t worry about any extra dumplings. They will be used. And it’s what the Chinese do with the leftovers that has captured the imaginations of so many Westerners here in the United States. The dumplings are fried until the bottoms are browned and crisp; these are called pot stickers, or guo tie (gwo-TYEH).
Ties to the past
For Murphy, dumplings represent something bigger, something fundamental and profound. Dumplings provide a link to her past, to her childhood home in Huh-hot, the capital of Inner Mongolia, and beyond that to her family’s roots in the central provinces of Shanxi and Hebei. (Like the American pioneers who moved west to find their fortune, so did Murphy’s ancestors move north to Inner Mongolia about a century ago.)
She learned to make dumplings at age 12 surrounded by helpful family members. Ever since, after Murphy moved first to Japan and then to the United States as a graduate student in 1988, and before and after her marriage, dumplings have been a constant, comforting symbol of her past and of Chinese culture. She is clearly determined to pass on that legacy to her children. Speaking Chinese at home and making dumplings are both part of that process.
“I think it is part of who they are,” says Murphy, whose given name in Chinese, Xiaonian, means “little memory.”
“My daughter is young now but I want my son to know it is part of his cultural heritage,” she says. “Every family marks the Spring Festival with dumplings.”
– – –
Tips and techniques
USING THE FOOD PROCESSOR
Barbara Tropp in her book, “The Modern Art of Chinese Cooking,” offers alternate directions for making the dough using a food processor: Put the flour in the processor work bowl. With machine running, add the water in a thin stream just until the dough clumps into a near-ball around the blade. When a ball is formed, run the machine 10 seconds more to knead the dough. Turn the dough out onto a floured board and knead by hand for 30 seconds, until it is “ear lobe-soft and smooth,” and bounces back gently when pressed. Let rest in a covered bowl 30 minutes. Proceed with rolling and forming the dumpling skins by hand.
USING STORE-BOUGHT DUMPLING SKINS
Commercially made dumpling skins are tremendously convenient. Look for wrappers cut into 31/2-inch circles. Most wrappers are sold 50 skins to a package and are labeled for dumplings. Round wonton wrappers could be used as well. Look for skins that seem fresh and moist, rather than old and dry.
Stuart Chang Berman in his “Potsticker Chronicles” suggests whisking 1 egg white until foamy and dipping half the dumpling skin in the egg white before filling and sealing.
ROLLING THE DOUGH: A CHEATER’S ALTERNATIVE
Rolling out dumpling wrappers is an art that takes time and frequent practice to master. Impatient types can resort to a Mexican tortilla press. Place the ball of dough in the center of the hinged press, which should be wrapped in plastic wrap or lightly floured to prevent sticking. Close the lid and press. Open, check the thinness of the dough and press again if it is too thick. Remove from the press and repeat with the remaining dough.
If you find the idea of pleating your dumplings too scary, fear no more: There is a gadget to help you. A simple hinged plastic dumpling press, available at Asian markets, features a ridged edge that serves to suggest the dough has been classically pleated.
DIPPING SAUCE
An all-purpose soy-based dipping sauce is provided in “The Modern Art of Chinese Cooking,” by Barbara Tropp. Mix 1 tablespoon soy sauce, 2 teaspoons Chinese black vinegar or balsamic vinegar, and 1/4 teaspoon each of minced ginger and hot chili oil or sesame oil.
–Bill Daley
Forming dumplings
Of all the cookbook instructions out there on wrapping a dumpling, the simplest may come from Barbara Tropp in her book, “The Modern Art of Chinese Cooking.”
1. Put filling just off-center in the wrapper, and nudge it into a half moon withchopsticks or your finger.
2. Fold wrapper in half over the filling. Pinch the two edges together at the midpoint of the crescent.
3. Beginning to the right of the midpoint, make 3 tiny pleats on the near side of the wrapper, folding the pleats toward the midpoint. In making each pleat, pinch the edge of the dough to join the far, unpleated side of the wrapper. Pinch the right corner of the crescent closed.
Repeat the process to the left of the midpoint, folding the pleats toward the midpoint. Pinch the left corner closed. Then gently pinch all along the crescent edge to seal tightly.
Handmade dumpling wrappers
Preparation time: 1 hour, 20 minutes
Resting time: 30 minutes
Yield: About 40 wrappers
– Stuart Chang Berman, author of “Potsticker Chronicles,” learned to make dumpling wrappers from his grandmother. His method is very similar to that practiced by Robin Xu Murphy and her family. We’ve adapted his recipe to reflect Murphy’s touches.
3 cups flour, plus more for kneading
1 cup cold water
1. Put flour in a mixing bowl; add the cold water a little at a time, stirring it in with a pair of chopsticks. The flour will get crumbly like pie crust dough. Knead dough with your hands until it forms a ball; turn out onto a lightly floured board. Continue kneading until smooth. Return dough to bowl; cover with damp cloth or paper towel. Let dough rest in refrigerator 30 minutes.
2. Remove dough from refrigerator; knead on a lightly floured board 5 minutes, or until the dough is soft. Cut the dough in three pieces; roll each piece into a 1-inch-thick rope. Add flour to the board if the dough starts to stick. Cut the dough into 1-inch pieces.
3. Roll each piece between the palms of both hands to form a ball. Flatten the ball into a disk. Roll out each disk with a floured rolling pin to 4 inches in diameter. Place 2 teaspoons of filling of your choice just off center on each disk. Fold, pleat and seal. Repeat. Cook according to directions below.
Nutrition information per wrapper:
34 calories, 2% of calories from fat, 0.1 g fat, 0 g saturated fat, 0 mg cholesterol, 7 g carbohydrates, 1 g protein, 0.3 mg sodium, 0.2 g fiber
Pork and napa cabbage dumpling filling
Preparation time: 20 minutes
Yield: Filling for 50 dumplings
– This filling recipe is used by Robin Xu Murphy. The recipe is subject to change, she says. She adds or substitutes celery or green onion for the cabbage and folds in minced shrimp with the pork. Five-spice powder and powdered Sichuan peppercorns are available at Asian markets.
1 pound ground pork
1/2 head napa cabbage, minced, squeezed dry
6 green onions, minced
1/2 cup minced fresh ginger, about 1 large ginger root
1/4 cup each: chicken broth, vegetable oil, sesame oil
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 teaspoon each: salt, ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon each: five-spice power, powdered Sichuan peppercorns
Mix all of the ingredients together in a large bowl, stirring in one direction to keep the texture light and almost fluffy. Use to fill dumpling wrappers; cook according to directions below.
Nutrition information per serving:
42 calories, 76% of calories from fat, 3 g fat, 1 g saturated fat, 6 mg cholesterol, 1 g carbohydrates, 2 g protein, 77 mg sodium, 0.2 g fiber
Shrimp-and-chicken dumpling filling
Preparation time: 20 minutes
Yield: Filling for 50 dumplings
– This recipe is adapted from “Chinese Seafood Cooking,” by Stella Lau Fessler.
1 pound spinach, stems trimmed
1 pound small shrimp, shelled, deveined
1/2 cup ground chicken
1 tablespoon each: dry sherry, soy sauce, sesame oil
1 piece (1-inch long) ginger root, minced
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 8 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1. Heat large saucepan of water to a boil; add spinach. Cook 1 minute. Drain; squeeze dry. Chop.
2. Chop shrimp into pea-sized pieces; place in mixing bowl. Add the spinach and remaining ingredients; mix well. Use to fill dumplings according to directions below.
Nutrition information per serving:
16 calories, 31% of calories from fat, 1 g fat, 0.1 g saturated fat, 19 mg cholesterol, 0.3 g carbohydrates, 2 g protein, 72 mg sodium, 0.1 g fiber
Cooking the dumplings
There are two basic methods of cooking dumplings: boiling and frying. These directions are adapted from those used by Robin Xu Murphy and her family.
– Boiling is the basic method.
1. Heat a large pot of water to a full boil. Gently place about 15 to 20 dumplings in the pot. Wait for the water to boil again; add 1 cup cold water or enough cold water to stop the boiling.
2. Repeat three times. Carefully remove dumplings from pot; drain well in a colander. Repeat above steps with remaining dumplings.
-Frying the dumplings creates the classic pot stickers. You can use fresh uncooked dumplings or leftover boiled dumplings.
1. Heat 3 tablespoons peanut oil in a large cast-iron skillet over high heat. Place the dumplings in the skillet in three rows of six dumplings each, touching lightly. Cook 3 minutes, then pour 1/2 cup cold water into skillet. Cover. Cook until the water is absorbed by the dumplings, 5-7 minutes.
2. Lower the heat and continue to fry until the dumplings are browned on the bottom and almost translucent on top. Remove from pan and drain on paper towels. Repeat with remaining dumplings.
–B.D.
———-
Tomorrow’s At Play section takes a critical look at pot stickers around town.
