A Lesson in Dumplings

Who doesn’t love dumplings?  They’re kind of like sex – even a bad dumpling is better than no dumpling at all.  I’m used to equating dumplings with Chinese potstickers and Japanese gyoza, or maybe Polish pierogi when I’m feeling like a non-meat filling.  But it turns out things are a little more complicated than that.  After a day at the NYC Dumpling Festival that featured such unlikely contenders as Indian idli and Italian gnocchi, I was left wondering: what the hell is a dumpling?  Had my assumptions been mistaken this entire time?  After a few Google searches and a skim of Brian Yarvin’s book “A World of Dumplings,” I found out that dumplings are present in practically every world cuisine except for countries of Africa.  It makes sense – who wouldn’t want to stuff a piece of dough with some meat and see what happens?  But as it turns out, there’s not much of a set standard for what qualifies as a dumpling, and the forms these “dumplings” take can surprise and even shock.

As far as I can tell, there are the following families of dumplings:

The “Yeah, I know that’s a dumpling” Dumpling:

These are, most typically, your Asian dumplings: you’ll recognize them as the potstickers and gyoza of the world, and Korean mandu, Kazakh manti, and Tibetan momos also fit the bill nicely.  Yet halfway around the world in Eastern Europe, Polish pierogies, Russian pelmeni, Jewish kreplach and Georgian khinkali look strangely like their Asian cousins.  What is the common thread?  A dough wrapper filled with meat or vegetables, with either crimped seams or a gathering of dough at the top for sealing.  Whether they’re round or shaped like half-moons, they’re dumpling-sized – you probably couldn’t eat more than 12 without vomiting.

The “Oh . . .on second thought, I guess that is a dumpling” Dumpling:

Ravioli and tortellini are the winners in this category.  It seems so obvious now, but the square shape of a ravioli threw me off.  Similarly, a tortellini’s diminutive size was misleading – you can toss a tortellini in the air and catch it with your mouth, though try that with the “yeah, I know that’s a dumpling” dumpling and you will probably hurt yourself.

The “That’s not a dumpling, even though it meets the requirements” Dumpling:

(photo from Feastguru.com)

Yarvin’s definition of a dumpling is “a dough-based outer wrapper filled with everything from seasoned fish to chopped meat to vegetables . . . [that] can be poached, boiled, fried or sauteed, and served with or without a sauce.”  It sounds reasonable enough, but then he goes on to claim that Indian samosa, British pasties, and empanadas of any sort are part of the package.  I’m sorry, but those are not dumplings!  They are too big, too fried, too filling, too . . .something.  I’d also put Jewish knishes and Brazilian esfirra, mentioned by general internet riffraff, in this category – dumplings that provoke a deep-seated reaction arguing to the contrary.

The “Where is your silky dough wrapper” Dumpling:

This is where we start getting into really sketchy territory, because of Wikipedia’s definition of dumplings as being mere “cooked balls of dough.”  The Italian gnocchi, Norwegian potetball, Venezuelan papas rellenas and the Mexican tamale either use mashed potato to encase a filling or make use of a corn dough that ends up having a texture similar to a mashed potato.  I struggled with this one, because wheat (and consequently, flour) isn’t native to the Americas and I’m guessing that it’s too cold to grow much in Norway; no one should be left out of the dumpling club because of a lack of ingredients, right?  But in the end I think there is something fundamentally wrong about a non-flour-based wrapper.  Call me racist or elitist or whatever, but I really believe it.

The “Um, you’re a bun” Dumpling:

A surprise entry at the NYC Dumpling Festival was the Chinese Bao; similarly, Wikipedia’s dumpling entry included the Czech knedliky.  I don’t think much is needed beyond pictorial proof to show that these two ‘dumplings’ are having an existential crisis of their own.  Go back to where you belong, with Filipino siopao, Japanese nikuman and your other yeast-y brothers and sisters.

And finally, the “WTF, you’re not even stuffed!” Dumpling:

The Festival included Filipino Palitaw and Indian Idli, so at first I thought it was simply a case of mistaken identity; the Festival had been deceived by the cute, doughy exteriors, but were unaware of the – horrors! – unstuffed interior.  But Wikipedia confirmed the transgression and even added to it: German Spatzle, Hungarian galuska, dumplings from the Caribbean, and Jewish matzo balls.  Ladies and gentleman, I’ll take it all back and welcome potato-wrapped dumplings and their misfit cousins, the bun, with open arms – anything but this empty heathen that is an affront to everything a proper dumpling should be.

As you can see, the world of dumplings is a Pandora’s Box filled with trickery and illusions.  But admittedly, it is delicious, and I’m happy to eat myself sick getting to the bottom of this mess.  What is your favorite dumpling?  And does it qualify as a real dumpling?