Dumplings Quotes

“And her dumplings were so light they would float in the air and you'd have to catch 'em to eat 'em.”
― Fannie Flagg, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe

“Are there flowers here, your ladyship?' he asked when Pole had gone.
'Flowers?' Lucretia touched a hand to her cheek. 'Surely you have smelt rose water before?'
In the Solar Gallery, remembered John. The scent teased his nostrils as he bent to prise open the first dumpling. The soft dough parted and a puff of steam carried a second sweet smell into the chamber. Lucretia peered at the glistening mass then looked up curiously. 'What dish is this?'
'"Let me feed thee Honey-sugared Creams,"' John recited. '"As cool the Quodling's 'scaping Steam."'
She stared at him, amazed. 'The verses? You can read?'
'Is it so strange in a cook?'
'I... no.' Lucretia gathered herself. 'Of course you must read your receipts.'
'They are our verses, your ladyship. We give each other recitals down there in our kitchens.'
John brought a corked flask from inside his doublet and poured sweetened cream over the apple. He watched her dig into the apple's oozing flesh, swirl the thick cream then slip the marbled mixture into her mouth.
'Your honey-sugared cream is as sweet as the verses claim,' Lucretia told him, swallowing. 'It all but conquers the sourness of the quodling.”
― Lawrence Norfolk, John Saturnall's Feast

“In Oishinbo: Ramen and Gyōza, Yamaoka and the gang are on an assignment to help a lonely gyōza chef find a new recipe and true love. While investigating, they have lunch at a dumpling restaurant that boasts "100 types of gyōza" on the sign. (Incidentally, a cute thing about Japanese restaurant chains is that they often put the word "chain" in the name, like, "Gyōza Chain Hanasaki.") They eat dumplings with fillings like garlic-miso, flaked salmon, and Chinese roast pork.”
― Matthew Amster-Burton, Pretty Good Number One: An American Family Eats Tokyo

“A soup dumpling is a little marvel of engineering. Called xiao long bao in Chinese, shōronpō in Japanese, and "soupies" by Iris, soup dumplings consist of silky dough wrapped around a minced pork or crab filling. The filling is mixed with chilled gelatinous broth which turns back into soup when the dumplings are steamed. Eating a soup dumpling requires practice. Pop the whole thing in your mouth and fry your tongue; bite it in the wrong place and watch the soup dribble onto your lap.
The reason I thought about chocolate baklava is because Mago-chan pan-fries its soup dumplings. A steamed soup dumpling is perfect just the way it is. Must we pan-fry everything?
Based on the available evidence, the answer is yes. Pan-fried soup dumplings are bigger and heartier than the steamed variety and more plump with hot soup. No, that's too understated. I'm exploding with love and soup and I have to tell the world: pan-fried soupies are amazing.
The dumplings are served in groups of four, just enough for lunch for one adult or a growing eight-year-old. They're topped with a sprinkle of sesame and scallion. You can mix up a dipping sauce from the dispensers of soy sauce, black vinegar, and chile oil at the table, but I found it unnecessary. Like a slice of pizza, a pan-fried soup dumpling is a complete experience wrapped in dough. Lift a dumpling with your spoon, poke it with a chopstick, press your lips to the puncture wound, and slurp out the soup. (This will come in handy if I'm ever bitten by a soup snake.) No matter how much you extract, there always seems to be a little more broth pooling within as you eat your way through the meaty filling and crispy underside. Then you get to start again, until, too soon, your dumplings are gone.”
― Matthew Amster-Burton, Pretty Good Number One: An American Family Eats Tokyo

“For the primo piatto, the chef had chosen to serve a dish he called gnocchi- small dumplings made with potato flour. It was an unusual dish as potatoes were a rarity from the New World and largely unknown. The gnocchi were simply dressed in browned butter and sage and then dusted with freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano. It was a plain presentation with no garnish, and it was accompanied by a white table wine of no special distinction.
My mouth watered as I carried the gnocchi up to the dining room. I'd tasted one dumpling in the kitchen, and I loved the earthy flavor as well as the way it resisted when I sank my teeth in. The butter and sage coated my mouth so that the taste lasted even after I swallowed. I liked the way it felt in my stomach, solid and nourishing, and I looked forward to learning how to make it.”
― Elle Newmark, The Book of Unholy Mischief

“He knew immediately what he should cook for Maura, the journey he would take her on.
They could make them together--- varenyky. Thin-skinned dumplings bursting with lightly sugared sour cherries, their warm, dark juice flooding your mouth. Or the cheese kind--- soft, sweet kernels of curd luxuriating in a pool of liquid butter. The meat ones, his dad's take on pelmeni, beef and pork and black pepper and onion, boiled first and then pan-fried, brown and crispy, doused in a poultice of white vinegar and sinus-clearing Russian mustard and thick sour cream.
Hell, he'd cook all three.”
― Daria Lavelle, Aftertaste

“We planned an Utsunomiya gyōza crawl, but when we emerged from the train station into 92-degree weather, we abandoned the idea and just went to the place with (Iris counted) seventy-four types of gyōza, including yogurt, coffee, tea, chocolate, liver, mochi, squid-octopus, sausage, curry, and whale. You can order a whole plate of your favorite variety or a sampler platter; we ordered a sampler (no whale) with a small order of regular pork gyōza as insurance.
The dumplings didn't come with labels, so we were left to guess at their identities. The salted fish roe and curry were easy to pick out, as was the sausage, which had a tiny hot dog inside. After polishing off the sampler, we asked for a plate of yuba gyōza, filled with the tofu skin Iris and I like to make at home. I went spelunking inside the dumplings and found that the pork filling was wrapped in yuba; the snap of fresh yuba was missing, but the dumplings were excellent.
I regret missing out on the chocolate gyōza. I don't regret missing out on the whale, yogurt, or Doritos Locos gyōza.”
― Matthew Amster-Burton, Pretty Good Number One: An American Family Eats Tokyo

“Baskets of dim sum rested on the glass lazy Susan: spicy phoenix claws, plump purses of har gow, shumai topped with green pea crowns, and airy wu gok.
I had learned from previous meetings that the old man was adamant about following tradition, which meant I had to arrive with an empty stomach. Refusing offered food was an insult Old Wu didn't take lightly.
I helped myself to a sample of each dish. Made of minced pork with a paper-thin wrapper, the steamed shumai was tender, and the har gow was juicy with the shrimp with bamboo shoots highlighted by a peekaboo skin. Then I bit into the wu gok, a fried taro puff with a wispy, crunchy shell and a dripping shrimp and pork filling. The powdery creaminess of the dish made this my favorite of the bunch.”
― Roselle Lim, Natalie Tan's Book of Luck & Fortune

“For our first course, we have Italian beef mandu," Henry said, gesturing to the plate with the two little dumplings and the dipping sauce. Boy, now he really felt like he was on Top Chef, explaining his menu to a panel of judges. He half expected to look past Chef Laurent to see Tom and Padma. "Mandu is a traditional Korean dumpling. I wanted to make a dish that reflected my Korean heritage and the place I'm from- Chicago."
"Chicago!" Chef Laurent exclaimed. "Excellent food city. You get your deep-dish at Lou Malnati's, I hope?"
"Yes, Chef," Henry said. Obviously. "I incorporated the traditional flavors of an Italian beef sandwich into the meat in the dumpling filling and made a giardiniera dipping sauce. Giardiniera is a Chicago thing- pickled vegetables," he said quickly, answering Chef Martinet's confused expression.”
― Stephanie Kate Strohm, Love à la Mode

“He ladled the borscht into bowls and topped each with a dollop of sour cream and a sprig of fresh dill- very attractive, Rachel thought, both the presentation and the look of concentration on his ridiculously handsome face.
That thought made her struggle to hold back her smile as he brought the bowls to the table. The meat had been arranged on the platter in an elegant swoop of mushroom sauce with more drizzled over the top. He'd gone to some trouble to think it through and make it restaurant-worthy. The fact he'd given it so much effort only put more weight behind her smile.
He swept his hand toward the table and pulled her chair out for her. "Shall we eat then?"
"This looks amazing." She was rewarded with a pleased smile from him.
It was amazing, actually, especially considering he claimed he didn't cook. The borscht held just the right amount of sweetness, the beets tender but still fresh and bright, finely diced pork giving it further flavor. The dumplings, colored green from the spinach in the dough, were tender with a delicious filling.”
― Carla Laureano, The Saturday Night Supper Club

“My leetle baba romovaya." He grins widely and opens his arms to me, letting the rake fall where it may, and calling me by the endearment of my childhood, a reference to a yeasty cake soaked in cherry juice and plum brandy and covered in a creamy sauce- round and plump and pink and sweet, which is how he saw me. "Come give Papa a kisseleh."
I put my arms around him, and kiss his cheek, smooth-shaven and smelling of bay rum. "Hello, Papa."
"How are you doing, eh? No work meedle of day?" He shakes his hand up and down. "So fancy!"
"Got done early, thought I'd come make pelmeni with Mama."
He smiles even wider, closes his eyes and inhales deeply, as if he can already smell the little meat dumplings, swimming in butter and onions and dunked in rich, thick sour cream.”
― Stacey Ballis, Off the Menu

“GYOZA IN ORANGE-BASIL BROTH

FOR THE FILLING:
1 pound flor de calabaza
2 pounds shrimp, peeled and deveined
1/2 pound portobello mushrooms, chopped
1/2 pound shiitake mushrooms, chopped
2 red onions, chopped
6 cloves garlic
2 tablespoons ginger
2 tablespoons sesame oil

FOR THE BROTH:
12 cups veggie stock
4 tablespoons ginger
1/2 cup packed basil leaves
2 tablespoons sesame oil
2 tablespoons sriracha hot sauce
2 tablespoons rice wine vinegar”
― Adi Alsaid, North of Happy

“What about 101 Noodle Express?" This was a favorite dumpling place in Arcadia. Their dumplings were rustic and burly---leek and pork, pumpkin and pork, shrimp and bok choy---and their signature dish, a beef roll, was another life-shifting taste experience: long-stewed beef rolled in a crisp and chewy savory pancake with sweet hoisin sauce and a green chili relish.”
― Michelle Huneven, Search

“To think, I was learning how to make dumplings from a dumpling while walking on the Dumpling Road.”
― Singshong, 전지적 독자 시점 4 [Jeonjijeog Dogja Sijeom 4]

“Minutes later she returns from the open kitchen at the end of the restaurant with two brown plates of steamed jjin mandu on a paper napkin, the fat pockets of dough stuffed to bursting with shrimp and chives, and a plate of untidy crisp pork dumplings that I would be happy to live on for the rest of my life. There is a tiny plastic dish of soy and another of orange kimchi and a deep black bowl of soup with shredded omelette and spring onions floating to the surface. I pour the sticky soy into a little white dipping dish and add a few drops of the dark vinegar. My dumplings, doughy, spicy, scorching-hot and as comforting as an old teddy bear, are gone in a heartbeat.”
― Nigel Slater, A Thousand Feasts: Small Moments of Joy… A Memoir of Sorts

“Today's rice is mixed with hamo eel," said Nagare, returning with a Shigaraki-ware clay pot and a small, lidded bowl.
"Interesting. I've had hamo as sushi plenty of times, but never with regular rice."
"Well, it's certainly not as fancy as sushi," replied Nagare, setting the pot down on a woven straw mat. "Anyone could whip it up at home."
"And what's the soup?" asked Nobuo, removing the lid from the small bowl.
"I chopped up the skin from the hamo and made it into dumplings. Add a bit of this yuzu peel too, if you like."
Nagare appeared to have deliberately used one of Nobuo's creations to serve the soup. A tempting fragrance was rising from the jet-black lacquered bowl.
"Regular green tea all right for you?" asked Koishi, showing him a Kyo-ware teapot.
"Oh, yes. In fact, at home I like to have a cup of bo-cha."
"Bo-cha?" repeated Koishi, pausing with her teapot at the ready.
"A specialty of Kaga, back in Ishikawa. It's a sort of roasted green tea--- like hojicha, basically, but made using the stems rather than the leaves. It's all about the fragrance."
"Nothing like it after a good meal, is there?" Koishi poured the green tea into a tall, narrow cup, releasing a smoky aroma.
"This is just a small portion for now," said Nagare, placing a bowl of rice in front of Nobuo. "But there's plenty in the pot, so just tell me if you'd like more."
Nobuo's eyes widened. "This is the... hamo rice?"
"Almost looks like plain white rice, doesn't it? I broke up the flesh from some grilled hamo and mixed it into the freshly cooked rice, and shredded perilla for seasoning. Really ties the flavors together. And if you're wanting to pour that tea over your rice and eat it chazuke-style, I'd recommend adding some of these toppings: wasabi, nori seaweed, and crumbled rice crackers." Nagare set the wooden spatula he'd used to serve the rice on the lid of the clay pot.
"I didn't realize the hamo flesh would be this white without the skin," said Nobuo, reaching for his chopsticks. "It's practically gleaming!"
Just as Nagare had said, it looked like little more than regular white rice. But as he raised a clump of it toward his mouth, the potent smell of hamo reached his nose first. The rice was clearly packed with the eel's flesh. Meanwhile, its skin had been used to make dumplings for the soup. This determination not to let any ingredient go to waste seemed typical of Nagare's style.”
― Jesse Kirkwood, The Menu of Happiness