Plump Pea Dumplings

Thanks to Jennifer for sending me this recipe for Plump Pea Dumplings. I think the recipe is American and not from a particular global dumpling tradition (Italian-flavoured garden peas in Chinese wonton wrappers) but I like the dumpling tradition of getting-friends-involved-in-a-dumpling-production-line. And so today I had Clare round to join the industrial dumpling revolution.

Before she arrived I made the filling of 2 cups of frozen peas just cooked for a minute in boiling water, blitzed together with 2/3 cup of ricotta cheese, zest of a lemon, a minced small shallot, salt, 2 tbsps olive oil and a hunk of grated Parmesan.

The recipe called for wonton wrappers. There's a small Chinese micromarket nearby, which smells a bit, and has only patchily-filled shelves. With Clare half an hour away I was growing concerned about whether these wanted wonton wrappers would be a no-show. However, not only were they in the tiny freezer 'section' but they were only 99p. Yes.

Here they are, laid out ready for their filling.

Clare arrived bringing tales of disappointing Jamaican dumplings. Oh dear. I'll have to leave attempting those until I'm more of an expert.

Back to the dumplings at hand. Only a small teaspoon of filling is needed on each wrapper or they'll not fold well. Here is Clare doing perfect portioning while I just look on like I'm David Bailey.



Now for the wonton wrapping. According to the recipe 'wonton packets have folding diagrams' but not ours. So we freestyled.

First fold diagonally across, making sure to get rid of any air bubbles, and sealing with a watery wet edge.Then fold each corner into the centre, again sealing with a wet edge. Repeat until all the filling or wrappers are used up. Arrange prettily on a plate.

We boiled each dumpling for a minute only, before frying in oil and butter. Here's where a production line really is helpful. I was on boiling duty and Clare on frying duty.

Finally, serve up sprinkled with sea salt. Totes noms.

Basil (and caraway) dumplings

For my second dumpling soiree I delved into a cookery book that has a whole chapter on dumplings. Feasts by Silvana Rowe is a a compendium of deliciously semi-exotic recipes from Central and Eastern Europe.

Today I chose to tackle the Basil and Caraway Dumplings, although I had to drop the caraway seeds from my version. Our pot was empty and two shopping trips in two different directions out of the house to all the ethnic grocers I could find turned up no caraway seeds. So, just basil it was.

Firstly I cubed 300g of brioche (about 6 of the little rolls) and mixed it with 100g plain flour and a teaspoon salt.
Then I melted 60g butter and mixed it in as much as possible to the brioche mix - although it inevitably only soaked into a quarter of the breadybits. Ho hum.

Last ingredients were chopped basil (just a smallish handful), 250ml milk and 2 beaten eggs.
It looked like something already semi-digested at this stage but it made a pleasing squealchy noise when stirred up. Leaving it for an hour got it all soakedy-good.
In the intervening hour I made gyuvech, a Turkish ratatouille thing, also from Feasts, and sat down with the paper.

With wet hands I shaped little boules of the mixture - each about the size of a large conker - and set them on a floured-plate.

The flour did seem to help the dumplings keep some shape at the next crucial stage.

Which was the poaching. In a pan I boiled up some chicken stock (which I had to keep topping up with plain water as it boiled lower) and dropped the little balls in about 5 at a time. They cooked for 12 minutes, which felt long, and meant that doing 5 at a time took 45 minutes. Oy.


After 12 minutes' cooking in the boiling stock, I removed them with a slotted spoon and drained in a colander.

Then I served them up with the tasty gyuvech.

Admittedly the dumplings look somewhat anaemic and sloppy in this pic, but they were surprisingly and unusually tasty. I should probably have waited a little longer for them to dry before serving. Using brioche is supposed to make them light, but they did nevertheless feel quite weighty and dumpling-like. A great accompaniment to the vegetable main dish.



Top marks to Hungary for proper, tasty, unusual dumplings.

Calling all dumpling scoffers

While I attempt to cook and eat my way through the dumplings of the world, I know a lot of you are also eating the dumplings of the world - be it in your hometowns or on travels. And I'd love to hear about it!

If you're out somewhere - anywhere - enjoying a dumpling of some sort - any sort - please photo and/or send me a report. It's all filling to my dumpling. (Is that a dumpling analogy too far? OK, grist to my mill, whatever.)

First among dumplings: Ravioli

I had some butternut squash in the fridge that I'd optimistically roasted earlier in the week, so I thought my first dumpling ought be stuffed with it. Enterprising, I think it's called. Or is it making do? I've made pasta once before, and that time they quadrupled in size to massive, chewy pillow-shapes. So, looking to avoid that happening again.

This time I put a pile of 350g plain flour (you're meant to use oo flour but I had none, and the recipe said plain will do) on my chopping board, and made a well in the middle. A well that was too small to contain all 3 eggs that I cracked into it, and I lost a load of it when the dam broke. Egg can travel downwards at an alarming speed, apparently. And is hard to clean up - TOP TIP is to cover the spilled white with salt, to dehydrate it and make it less slippy.

Crisis over, I used a blunt knife to gradually pull flour into what was left of the eggy mixture until there was a springy dough and lots of flour left over. Like so.


Next, rolling out. In lieu of a pasta machine a rolling pin is actually fine, even with my weedy arms. You have to roll it as thin as possible, until you can see your fingers through it.

For ravioli I then used a glass to cut out lots of circles, and put dabs of filling in the centre of each circle.



The filling was made from 1 roasted butternut squash, 2 cloves of roasted garlic, salt, nutmeg and a nob of butter, all mashed up together.



I used some water to moisten the top half of each ravioli circle, then folded them into a half-moon to encase the filling safely.



I dusted each ravioli in flour and sealed properly using a fork.


Then, into the boiling water with them for 3 minutes only.

This is what they looked like when they came out - glistening and wet, and more like pierogies than any ravioli I've ever had.



But with a coating of butter melted with chopped garlic, and a drizzle of single cream, and served with tenderstem broccoli, it was a most delicious meal, even if not most beautiful.

Maybe the ravioli was insulted by being called a dumpling. Call it a dumpling, you get a dumpling. Still, it was tasty-good.

What is a dumpling, after all?

I should define a bit better what I'm doing...
First, the definition of a dumpling. I'm working with the assumption that a dumpling is a 'cooked ball of dough' of some sort, be it stuffed or pain, dressed or plain, sweet or savoury, made from flour, potatoes, bread or matzoh.

Yesterday I kicked off with ravioli as my first dumpling, and while you might think gnocchi is more traditionally understood as the Italian dumpling, I'm still counting ravioli as a dumpling as it falls under my working definition. God knows the pasta I made last night was rather dough-like. I will not neglect the gnocchi though; their time in my boiling water will come.

Second, the organisation. I'm not going to work through the world in any particular order. Jumping about the global dumpling will keep it interesting.

Third, I will add the recipes as far as possible. Even if they are more like a worst-practice guide, it's all useful, right?

OK, let the dumpling-off begin!

Dumpling ahoy

Happenstance led me to the Wikipedia page for 'dumplings'. It's a most illuminating and inspiring place, and my main impression was, what a lot of dumplings there are in the world.

What comes to mind when you hear the word 'dumpling'? The fluffy, suety things on top of stew? A Polish pierogi? A steamed Chinese bun?

Turns out, most cuisines have their own dumpling.

Turns out, I've not eaten them all.

Yet.

This has become my quest: to research, cook and eat the global dumplings.

Tonight: Italian dumplings. Ravioli.