This time of year is the time for soup.  And yes, even in sunny California it is getting a little chilly, putting me in the mood for soup, chili, and other comfort foods.

My mom used to make wontons with us kids, and we thought it [...]]]>

This time of year is the time for soup.  And yes, even in sunny California it is getting a little chilly, putting me in the mood for soup, chili, and other comfort foods.

My mom used to make wontons with us kids, and we thought it was the most fun thing to scoop the meat onto the thin wonton skins and wrap them in all sorts of fantastic shapes, some of which held together during cooking, and some that didn’t.  It always felt like a treat to get together and make wontons – little did I know my mom was rejoicing at getting three pairs of helping hands to get the job done!  And when they were done, my mom would freeze them in bags, and Saturday afternoons we’d have ramen noodles and wontons, an easy and fast meal that we kids loved.

I made these for my in-laws the day before Thanksgiving, and I’m happy to say everyone slurped them up contentedly, including Chris’ grandparents, who reminisced about the time they went to China in the 1980s and stayed at the Peace Hotel in Shanghai and ate lots and lots of dumplings.

It’s a little crazy that Chris’ grandparents visited China 30 years ago. By all accounts, things were a little crazy there back then.

This makes quite a lot of wontons, which is great.  Just freeze them and keep them for months, a perfect last minute addition to a bowl of noodles. If you do freeze them, do so right away before the filling gets the skins soggy. Not only is that kind of gross, but it will also cause your wontons to stick together in the freezer.

Pork and Shrimp Wonton Soup

Filling
1/2 pound ground pork
1/2 pound raw shrimp, peeled, deveined and chopped
1 tbsp cornstarch
1 egg
1/2 cup minced canned bamboo shoots
3 scallions, minced
2 tbsp minced ginger
2 tbsp soy sauce
2 tbsp sesame oil
pinch salt

1 package wonton skins
Chicken broth
Your choice of vegetables

Mix together all the filling ingredients. Place a small teaspoonful in the middle of a wonton wrapper. Dip your finger in water and wet the edges. Fold in half diagonally to make a triangle and press edges together, trying to remove all the air from the inside pocket. Wet the tip of the triangle’s arms, bring them together to the front and stick them together. Place on a plate. Make the rest of the wontons.

At this point you can freeze them or cook them right away. Heat some chicken broth in a saucepan (how much depends on how many dumplings you want to cook). Bring to a boil and add wontons. Lower heat to a simmer and cook until the dumplings float to the surface, and wonton skins are wrinkled, sticking to the meat inside the pockets.  Add your choice of vegetable and blanch until tender.  Serve.

Yesterday we celebrated the 60th anniversary of the People’s Republic of China – the anniversary of the day Communist forces took over, vanquishing the Kuomintang forces that subsequently fled to Taiwan.  Xiamen, being a more laid back and less political city than others, [...]]]>

Yesterday we celebrated the 60^th anniversary of the People’s Republic of China – the anniversary of the day Communist forces took over, vanquishing the Kuomintang forces that subsequently fled to Taiwan.  Xiamen, being a more laid back and less political city than others, wasn’t TOO crazy, but nevertheless many people were out on the streets, parading Chinese flags (and we eventually joined them).  We were sincerely happy for the Chinese for how far their country has come in the last few years, and grateful too, in a sense, for if the Communists hadn’t won the war, who knows if Chris and I would have come to China at all, and who knows if we would ever have met?  Regardless of our political opinions, we are certainly glad for that.

We celebrated with several of our friends by having a potluck National Day dinner to which, in honour of National Day, I brought homemade Chinese dumplings, or jiaozi (though I cheated by using pre-made skins) and mooncakes, anticipating the Mid-Autumn Festival, which will start tomorrow (click to read an article I wrote about the Mid-Autumn Festival.)

Now, mooncakes aren’t necessarily my favorite, though I did grow up with them.  I do like them more than Chris does, but that’s not saying much.  In Hong Kong I’ve had some good ones – modernized ones with a glutinous rice outer shell (like mochi), and fruit flavoured custard fillings.  And the mooncakes I bought last night were filled with a fruit puree, that wasn’t too bad.  They didn’t have salty egg yolks in them though.  And how can you have a mooncake without a salty egg yolk in the middle?  It’s just not moon-like.  It’s like having a galette des rois without a fève in it.

The traditional mooncakes are made with a cookie-like crust enclosing a filling made with red or green bean paste, or lotus-seed paste, fattened up with lard, and the yolk of a salted preserved egg.  I know, it doesn’t sound too appetizing, does it?  They are heavy and full of cholesterol, which is why you aren’t supposed to eat a whole mooncake by yourself, but cut it into quarters (or sometimes eighths), and share it.  My ideal mooncake wedge has a piece of the salty egg yolk in it, giving relief to the mealy sweet paste that fills the rest of the wedge.  I nibble it slowly over the course of, oh, say, half-an-hour or so.

When I was a kid, my mom would buy paper lanterns and stick birthday candles inside them, us girls would dress up in traditional Chinese costumes, and parade up and down the driveway carrying our lit lanterns.  My mom would buy her favorite brand of mooncake, which was more expensive than all the other brands – almost $30 for 4 mooncakes!  They came in a square tin box decorated with a picture of Chang’e, the lady in the moon.

Anyway, in honour of things Chinese – both National Day and Mid-Autumn Festival, I’ve brought you a basic recipe for Chinese dumplings, also known as jiaozi. Jiaozi are eaten anytime, and not especially for Mid-Autumn festival, but they are quintessentially Chinese, which is why I’m sharing them here.

I didn’t make my own jiaozi skins, but they are easy to make – just flour and water, and a good recipe can be found at Rasa Malaysia.

Sorry I don’t have a picture of the finished product – I was in a rush to get them to the potluck, and then they were eaten before we got a chance to photograph them.

Chinese Dumplings, or Jiaozi

Chinese leeks have a strong and distinctive taste somewhere between spring onion and grass (they’re better than they sound, really).  They are immensely popular as a filling for dumplings, fried pastries, and all sorts of snacks.  If you can’t find them you can substitute ½ cup of finely chopped Shanghai bok choy or Napa cabbage.

1 pack circular jiaozi skins (makes 24 dumplings)
½ pound ground pork (not too lean)
2 tsp Asian (toasted) sesame oil
1 tsp cornstarch
2 tsp soy sauce
1 tsp finely minced fresh ginger
½ cup Chinese leeks, chopped
salt for seasoning

Mix all the ingredients together (except the skins, of course), and add a small pinch of salt for seasoning.  Allow to marinate together for 20 minutes in the refrigerator.

Place a heaping teaspoonful of the meat filling in the center of a jiaozi wrapper.  Dip your finger in a little water and moisten the edges of the wrapper.  Press edges together to seal, forming a semi-circular dumpling.  Place on a lightly floured plate.  Repeat with rest of wrappers.

Heat a pot of water until boiling.  Reduce heat to medium, and then add the dumplings.  Simmer for 2-3 minutes, until the dumplings float to the top of the water.  Drain and serve with seasoned vinegar sauce.

Seasoned Vinegar Dipping Sauce

In a small bowl combine 4 tablespoons of Asian black vinegar with 1 tablespoon of soy sauce.  Add one fresh red chili pepper, finely chopped.  Let the chili pepper marinate in the sauce for 5 minutes, then serve as a dipping sauce for the Chinese dumplings.