Dumpling was born in Xián two thousand years ago. It had many names along the history, mostly related to its shape: a tiny dough wrapper stuffed with all kinds of material. To seal it sound and tight — otherwise the stuffing will burst out in the boiling, two hands should finger-pinch the wrapper with symmetric force. So it looks like an arched-moon. For over a thousand years, dumpling had a poetic name: crescent. When money took a toll in mass mind and tradition, people found dumpling resemble an ancient Chinese currency: the gold ingot. Since then dumpling had a new mission statement: bringing wealth and fortune. In the Chinese Lunar New Year, the first thing in the new year morning is families sitting together making dumplings. They will have dumplings as the first meal to wish for fortune in the new year.
Now it’s become a national food, you can find it everywhere. It’s also a regional food, you can find all local flavors and cuisines across the country. Large size and served in dry plate is the northern style. They dip in a little saucer of soy sauce and minced garlic to spice up the taste. The east sees a lot of fried dumplings, served more as a snack. We can hardly find dumplings down the south, except one kind or two of steamed dumplings served in dim sum. They are almost negligible in the profuse snack menu of a Cantonese restaurant.
Xi’an never treats dumpling as a snack. For many shallow-pocketed, dumpling is the redemption of both hunger and craving. The solid-stuffed ball fills up the stomach with each swallow, the well-crafted soup quenches the taste buds with a large variety of relish.
Yes, Xi’an dumpling’s secret is the spicy vinegar soup.
The newly brewed vinegar, chili oil, roast sesame, dried shrimps, coriander leaves, dried laver, and chopped scallion, when they are added to one soup, what could go wrong? Not to mention, the soup itself comes from the water that boils the dumplings. The ingredients in the stuffing seep into it, the wheat wrapper gives a tantalizing milk look.
Vinegar is the key. China is a big vinegar country, while Xi’an is not a big producer. That helps it keep the shoddy mass production at bay. Driving out of the city, you can see a lot of vinegar farms along the hillside, lined up with traditional brewing crocks. Specific sauces are added for specific relishes, like the dumpling vinegar, noodle vinegar, salad vinegar, and so on. Some special soy sauces are added to the dumpling vinegar generate a stronger taste and darker look. In the restaurant, the raw vinegar will be fried with further ingredients like ginger and garlic. The sour taste will be moderated, while an aroma is generated that wafts a long way.
The true recipe of Xi’an dumpling is differentiation. When other cities are focused on the dumpling itself, Xi’an advances to improve the side taste. For many working-class and students, a hot, rich dumpling soup warms them up in the cold winter, a sour taste soothes the mind in the simmering summer.
It never means Xi’an does sloppy work making the dumpling. Dumpling machine has been on the market for many years, but most restaurants in Xi’an still hand-make dumplings. A perfect dumpling, after well boiled, is “plump but not broken.” The flour wrapper, the stuffing material, and the final sealing, all the nitty-gritty work has come up with hundreds of years of evolution. The Muslim population has added diverse flavors. The beef and lamb stuffed dumpling served in the mutton soup is the must-have for Xi’an visitors.
Some big restaurants have developed binge service for dumpling lovers. They call it “Dumpling Banquet”, promising customers they will have all different kinds of stuffing, cooking measures, and resemblance in one meal. A giant turning table is full of dumpling dishes, one dish only serves in one tiny dumpling. Customer’s taste buds might be poked in the beginning. But soon they fall into taste fatigue until a small bowl of soup dumpling is brought up. The slumbering buds come back to life again. They might forget all the dumplings, but the spicy vinegar soup will stay for a long time.
Dumpling is also my far-off memory. When we just got married, soup dumpling was the best eat-out choice for us, especially in the winter. I rode the bike, my wife sat at the back, the chilly wind blew against us. The restaurant was called “Wu’s Dumpling”, with four or five tables, half inside half outside. My wife’s favor was vegetarian and mine lamb. They didn’t start to wrap the dumplings until we placed the order. With great dexterity, the lady chef scooped the stuffing material and put it into the round wrapper. In two seconds, a dumpling jumped to the table. In a few minutes, the flour-coated table was full. Throwing the dumplings into the boiling water, she turned the little fan at the charcoal fire to its highest. The little whitish fairies rolled up and down in the giant pot. Soon a big bowl of soup dumpling was ready. She added a ladle of vinegar — my wife would remind her: “more vinegar.” Then she hand-picked the sauces one by one, sesame, dried shrimps, dried lavers, scallions, and minced garlic. Before it was put to the table, our mouth already watering and pain in the jaw unbearable.
We would chug up every single dumping and all the soup. One the way back home, the wind blew to our back, we felt the spring had come early.
