Dumpling

A malfatto (Italian for "badly made") is a tender dumpling with rustic character. It's a bit of work to trim and cook the chard; you can simplify the recipe by substituting frozen spinach, if desired.

Look for wonton wrappers in your supermarket’s refrigerated section (often next to tofu); they are also available frozen. Unused wrappers can be frozen, wrapped in plastic, for up to two months.

These sticky, sweet dumplings, which are easier to produce than most savory dumplings, are served at New Year’s festivities throughout East and Southeast Asia. Palm sugar and glutinous rice flour can be found at most Asian markets.

To make these classic steamed rolls at home, you might pick up char siu—barbecued pork—in one of the myriad of Chinatown restaurants that have roast meats hanging in the window. Or you can make the Barbecued Pork (page 373) and the buns a day or two later. Fortunately, the buns themselves are easy to make, and they can be made as much as a month in advance: let them cool to room temperature after they’ve steamed (which should only take 15 minutes or so), then line them up on a baking sheet, cover tightly with plastic wrap, and freeze. Once they are frozen you can transfer them to a freezer bag or other airtight container. To serve, reheat the dumplings in a steamer over an inch of boiling water for 5 minutes. Serve these as a starter or a snack.

This well-known Philippine starter combines attributes of many of the wrapped foods of other countries. It’s filled like an egg roll, has an egg wrapper like a crêpe, and is served warm but not fried. All the components, which can be varied according to what you have in your kitchen, are cooked before assembly.

Like Wor Teep, Chinese pot stickers, these meat-filled dumplings are filling and delicious (with store bought dumpling wrappers, they’re also quite easy). But the serving style is completely different: these are usually cooked and served in broth, with yogurt. Alternatively, you can boil them in water and serve them with yogurt or melted butter.

These are the pot stickers popular in Shanghai and many other southern Chinese cities. Panfried until crisp on the bottom and then cooked through by steaming, they have a delicious combination of crunch and chew in the dough and a springy, flavorful center. They are best served hot out of the pan (but beware of their tongue-burning juices!). Gyoza is the Japanese version of this type of dumpling and mandoo the Korean version. They may be filled with pork or have a vegetarian stuffing; usually, their skin is somewhat thinner. You can buy gyoza or mandoo skins at the market or just roll the Chinese skins a little thinner yourself. Dumplings may be filled and dusted with flour and refrigerated, covered, for a couple of hours or frozen for a few days. But they’re really best when cooked right after being filled. Leeks are usually full of sand. The easiest way to clean them in this recipe is to chop them, rinse in a strainer, and shake dry.

Though not traditional, fried wontons are extremely popular. They are an easy finger food for parties and a snack that your kids will love. If you’re making the wrappers, try to get 60 out of the dough, or you may have a little filling left over.

An all-purpose wrapper, useful for many of the recipes on the following pages: dumplings, pot stickers, wontons, and so on. Of course you can buy these, ready made, at any supermarket, but they are fun and pretty easy to make—a good afternoon project and one kids will like. Note that the wrappers are made in stages, with a resting period in between; this period can be extended up to a day if you wrap the dough ball in plastic and refrigerate—just be sure to let it come to room temperature once again before proceeding.

GINA These pot stickers are ideal appetizers for the ladies. They look like cute little presents. They can be prepared early and kept warm for serving. They’re also flavored with soy, sesame, and a bit of our Neely “medicine”—cayenne pepper. Finally, they’re made with ginger—a tonic of sorts to settle our stomachs after the cocktails and conversation.

I remember being terribly impressed the first time I was served these at a friend’s house in the early ’80s. At that time, it was exotic and ambitious to attempt Chinese food at home. Times have changed, thanks in large part to the late Barbara Tropp, the famed chef of China Moon Café in San Francisco, whose wonderful books, like The Modern Art of Chinese Cooking, have made cooking authentic Asian food at home much less daunting. These crispy, flavorful little dumplings make a great starter or hors d’oeuvre if you’re feeding a crowd. The filling multiplies easily, and once you get the hang of filling the dumplings, you can whip up a lot in a relatively short period of time. If you’re a vegetarian, leave the pork and shrimp out and add some sautéed shiitake mushrooms instead. The tart dipping sauce is the perfect complement to the rich filling.

I’ve always loved pot stickers, but I was skeptical when we decided to try a vegetarian version. We got it right on the first try, and that doesn’t happen often. Your meat-eating friends won’t even care that these are vegetarian, because they’re pretty darn good dumplings, if I do say so myself.

In the winter months, when khúc, a green that looks like edible chrysanthemum leaves but tastes like spinach, is in season, cooks in northern Vietnam pound the leaves and use the juice to color the dough for these dumplings, which are filled with buttery mung bean and caramelized shallot. Sticky rice appears twice in the recipe, as the flour in the dough and as pearly grains covering the dumplings, making them look like snowballs. My mother remembers these jade green dumplings as the perfect antidote to the north’s cold, dreary winters. Well-positioned street vendors would lure customers with steamers full of piping-hot bánh khúc, which were piled on top of one another in the tray and had to be carefully pried apart before the exchange of money and food could occur. This is her recipe, which substitutes spinach for the khúc. For convenience, I use prewashed baby spinach leaves and purée them in a food processor. Measure the spinach carefully to ensure the dough won’t be too soft or mushy. Regular oil and ground pork stand in for the traditional filling enrichment of freshly rendered pork fat and hand-chopped pork belly. To yield nice round dumplings, I stray from tradition and steam them in a single layer, rather than piling them up.

When I was a child, my mom often kept me busy making wontons, putting three or four packages of the skins and a big bowl of pork-and-shrimp filling in front of me. (That’s 150 to 200 wontons!) She served the fried wontons to family and guests alike, who delighted in dipping the crispy morsels into our homemade sweet-and-sour sauce, a lighter version of the Chinese classic flavored with fish sauce instead of soy sauce.

Ginkgos are infamous for the acrid smell of their fruit, but the nuts hidden inside are a treasured ingredient in Asian cuisine. In and around the Chinatown neighborhoods of many cities, you can find people under trees collecting the nuts in autumn. Go out and join them, but be sure to wear protective gloves when touching the fruit and extracting the nuts; otherwise, the smell will remain on your hands. Remove the flesh outdoors—the less you bring into your home the better. You can find canned or dried ginkgos in Asian grocery stores.

Shumai is a Chinese import that’s a popular dish in casual restaurants, and is also a staple of Japanese homes, where it’s enjoyed as a snack or a dinnertime side dish (but never as the main course). Leftovers hold up well and can be polished off the next day, or packed into a lunchbox or picnic basket and eaten at room temperature. You can also freeze uncooked shumai for up to a month. Follow the instructions below to steam frozen shumai—no need to defrost; simply add a couple of minutes to the cooking time.

The funny thing about gyoza is that I never cooked them—until I moved to America. Back home I always went out for these extremely popular, garlic-infused pan-fried dumplings, which have a special place in the hearts of Japanese. When I arrived in America, gyoza was one of the comfort foods I missed the most, so I started cooking them at home. That’s when I realized how easy it is to prepare perfect gyoza: they simply need a fragrant, juicy, flavor-packed filling; crispy skin on the bottom and silky skin on top; and a spicy dipping sauce. Now my kids and I love to make homemade gyoza together. This recipe is the classic pork-filled version that I grew up with. Keep in mind that you can conveniently freeze uncooked gyoza for up to a month. To prepare, follow the fry-steam technique below with the frozen dumplings—no need to defrost. Just extend the cooking time by 3 minutes. Note: You can also prepare this dish without pork belly. Just substitute more ground pork (1 pound total). But I love using pork belly here because it adds so much flavor and richness to the gyoza.

Pot stickers are one of my family’s favorite appetizers. In fact, my cousins even eat them as the main course. My problem with ordering them from a restaurant is that they never have a vegetarian option, so I prefer to make them at home, where I can sauté chopped cabbage to substitute for the pork.

Soft and chewy sticky rice dumplings have a nuanced natural sweetness that is savored by fans of East and Southeast Asian cuisines. As the recipes in this book show, they lend themselves to many occasions, cooking techniques, and fillings. Regardless of type, sticky rice dumplings never fail to please. Old-fashioned cooks pound just-cooked sticky rice to create their dough. Modern cooks like me reach for convenient glutinous (sweet) rice flour for our favorite sticky rice dumplings. Preparations involving poaching the dumplings and serving them in broth (like a sweet soup) are common in Asia. I grew up with this classic Vietnamese rendition, not realizing that fried shallots contributed to their richness until my mother revealed it to me one day. The intersection between sweet and savory contributes to these dumplings’ allure.