The Secret to Life: Making Dumplings

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A few months ago, on a lazy Saturday afternoon, my grandmother came to me with a proposition of sorts. She believed that it was time for me to learn the art of making dumplings, an intricate skill passed down from generation to generation. It would essentially be a ceremonious rite of passage for me. I figured that this would be a much more productive use of my time than watching videos of puppies frolicking in a meadow, so I agreed.

Together, we sat down at the dining table, the materials to make these delicious treats at the ready. I noticed heaping piles of dough, freshly unwrapped from its packaging, a bowl of tap water, and a savory bowl of the filling that would later be inserted inside of the dumplings. With a flourish of her floral chopsticks, my grandma said, “Let’s get started!”

Before I could grasp a piece of dough, my dumpling-making mentor or grandma placed a steady hand on my shoulder and told me that there are a few sacred rules that I must be informed about before I undertake this task. There were five rules, to be exact.

1. Wet the inside of the dough with water to smooth the rough edges.

My grandma mentioned that this rule was especially important to the entire process. Without the water, the dumplings would burst in an explosion of meaty goodness while cooking in the boiling water, and that would ruin the entire experience of devouring a delectable dumpling feast.

I chuckled in amusement when my grandmother painted that visual in my head. Before then, I had never thought about the amount of dexterity and skill that was involved in making dumplings. I was aware of its significance to traditional Chinese cuisine but had never truly paid attention to the fine details that contributed to the appearance, taste, and texture of the food. In one afternoon, my grandma had managed to educate me more about the Chinese culture than any of my teachers had in one school year.

So, I dipped one finger into the bowl of cool water and painted the interior edge of my piece of dough. After that, I was prepared to move onto the next step.

1. Insert a ball of the filling onto the piece of dough, but do not place too much.

Using her chopsticks, my grandma swirled her utensils in the filling and explained to me how the ingredients coordinated to create the perfect combination of diverse flavors. Earlier in the day, she had mixed together ground pork, onions, and cabbage, with just a little bit more pork as per my request.

She instructed me to use my spoon to scoop up a small ball of the filling and place it at the center of my piece of dough. Being a little too eager on my part, I helped myself to an excessive amount of the filling. After all, the more flavor to a dish, the better. As I was getting prepared to fold the dough, my grandmother glimpsed at my dumpling and immediately began to rigorously shake her head.

“No,” she told me in broken English, “Too much.”

After removing a portion of my filling, she warned me that similar to the previous rule, if I incorporated too much of the meat and vegetable mixture into my dumpling, it would erupt when cooking, with pork and the cabbage shooting out of the dough haphazardly.

This greatly saddened me. However, I knew that the process of dumpling making was within my grandma’s expertise, so I listened to her wise words. After eyeing my dumpling one more time, I shoveled away more of the filling. In retrospect, that was my second mistake.

1. On the other hand, do not place too little of the filling in the dumpling.

“Not right,” my grandma exclaimed, after observing my noticeably smaller pile of the pork and cabbage mixture, “Way too little!”

Even more confused than before, I gaped at my dumpling as my grandmother used her chopsticks to transfer some of her filling to mine.

“I thought that was perfect,” I spluttered, disconcerted.

My grandma reprimanded me, “Ni yao bu yao ni de jiao zi kan shang qu xiang xie le qi de qi qiu ma?” (Do you want your dumpling to look like a deflated balloon?)

Despite her scolding tone, I laughed in delight. My grandma always managed to showcase her humor even in the strangest of circumstances. Hearing my peals of laughter, a hint of a smile graced my grandmother’s face. Playfully whacking my hands with her chopsticks, she told me to not dawdle with dumpling-making as we still had two more mounds of dumpling wrappers to go through.

1. When folding the dumplings, do not place too much pressure on the dough.

As I pressed the two edges of the dough together to ensure that it would hold together properly, I noticed little cracks beginning to emerge, similar in appearance to a stegosaurus’s back. Initially ignoring this at first, I continued to compress the dough until I realized that it was slowly and gradually crumbling between my fingers.

Dismayed, I placed some distance between my hands and the dough, afraid that even being in close proximity of the dumpling would trigger its official fragmentation. It was so surprising to me that I cared so intensely and passionately about an inanimate object, but I guess it was because I had already grown so fond of this afternoon’s introduction of new aspects of my culture that I previously had never explored.

Turning to my grandma, I whined, “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong!”

“Children these days,” Grandmother sighed. Ruffling my hair affectionately, she closely examined my dumpling and quickly identified the problem

Using her finger, she promptly directed my attention towards the neighboring areas of the cracks where she could identify my prominent fingerprints.

“Be gentle,” she advised and demonstrated the best way to properly secure the two edges of the dough together without fracturing it.

After the grueling process, my grandma announced that it was finally time for the last step in making the dumplings.

1. Once you have folded your dumpling correctly, delicately paint the edges of the finished product with water to further reinforce its structural integrity.

“More water?” I questioned, staring curiously as my grandma used intricate hand movements to lightly brush the crimped edges of the dumpling with the clear liquid.

Nodding her head with vigor, she replied smoothly, “Yes, of course. Wo xiang que ding shao de shi hou, jiao zi de xing zhuang bu hui po huai.” (I want to make sure that when the dumplings are cooking, they won’t fall apart.)

Following suit, I also plunged my finger in the bowl of cool water and began to stroke the dumpling wrapper, albeit not as gracefully as my grandma.

Eventually, we finished going through all of the wrappers and laid all of the dumplings on top of a wooden cutting board. The dumplings were filled to the brim with delectable filling and neatly folded to perfection. With a texture as soft and smooth as a baby’s skin, they almost looked too adorable to even consume.

After lining up the dumplings into a certain configuration that was reminiscent of soldiers lining up to listen to their commander’s orders, my grandma excused me to go wash my hands as she took care of organizing them into plastic bags to store them into the refrigerator. She promised that she would save a few for us to eat for lunch.

Looking down at my hands, I finally became aware that my fingers were heavily caked with the residual flour from the dumpling skins. Repeatedly submerging my fingers in water and then grasping the pieces of dough probably caused flour from the wrappers to cling to my hands. However, I did not care at all. Today was the most fulfilling experience, and nothing was going to change that.

While waiting for my grandma to cook the dumplings, I turned on my laptop to begin working on SAT or Scholastic Assessment Test preparatory work. As the months were approaching my inevitable test date, it was essential for me to focus on constantly taking practice test after practice test to improve my score. When summer break began, I promised myself that I would concentrate on making the most out of my junior year. Of course, that meant forfeiting my choice to rest and relax.

Flipping through the pages of my SAT textbook, I felt my fingers trembling and my heart pounding. Even thinking about this daunting task was making me anxious. Ever since I was little, I was told that the SAT would be a major deciding factor in what my future would look like. Many of the adults in my life would tell me cautionary tales of students who recklessly abandoned their future by not placing any effort or dedication into taking the SAT. As a child, I didn't quite understand the gravity of the situation and thus, did not care too much about this test. However, as a teenager, it seemed as if every corner I turned, there was always someone reminding me of the importance of the SAT.

However, as I stared at the endless sentences running across the expanse of the pages, my mind wandered back to the fourth rule of making dumplings. When folding the dumplings, do not place too much pressure on the dough. Do not place too much pressure on the dough.

Growing up, I have never let the concerns of anyone bother me from living my life to the fullest. I was innocent, which meant that I was blissfully unaware. However, as I got older, I have had many adults project their toxic standards on me to the point where I craved to return to the loving arms of ignorance and naivete. In recent years, I have become more and more exposed to the pains and cruelties of reality to the point where I have become old friends with anxiety and insecurity. Instead of conforming to the expectations of those adults, I have forced myself to achieve the highest level of perfection. If I do not, the frustration of not being satisfied with my accomplishments eats away at me until my mind is haunted with whispers of criticism of my talents and worst of all, harsh claims that I would never amount to anything later in life if I continue to fail now.

The idea of the future has always been intimidating to me. Although, the idea of “now” is even more terrifying. Now, when we’re supposed to think about colleges. Now, when we’re supposed to think about career plans. Now, when we’re supposed to think about our purpose in life.

However, after making dumplings for lunch, I realized that my grandmother’s rules carried more meaning than meets the eye. From her words of wisdom, what I did not realize was that there are so many more aspects to the idea of “now” than thinking about colleges and future career plans. I let my fears pressure me and prevent me from realizing that now is when I should be “smoothing my rough edges” and making new friends. Now is when I should be trying new things but not “putting too much” on my plate by burdening myself with unrealistic goals of perfection. Now is when I should be enjoying life and not stressing about what tomorrow might bring. Most importantly, now is when I should be taking care of my “delicate” self with gentleness and patience to ensure that I can slowly become the best version of myself.

I’m not entirely happy with where I am at the moment. However, I am working on myself day by day. One day, I’ll get to a place where I am at peace with myself. When I do, I’ll make myself a bowl of dumplings and smile, knowing that I have done well.

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Published July 25, 2021

Written by Mackenzie Chen