My soup dumplings (left); photo from Bon Appetit (right)
I happen to live about 30 minutes away from a city called Arcadia. In my mind, "Arcadia" means "soup dumplings," because that city is the home of Din Tai Fung restaurant, where I go to eat delicious soup dumplings every chance I get. In the English language, the word "arcadia" means "any real or imaginary place offering peace and simplicity." This is an apt description. Ordering juicy pork dumplings (as they are called at Din Tai Fung) is an experience of peace and simplicity. But let me tell you, making them at home is not.
I'm typing from a prone position. I am exhausted. I might have to go to a chiropractor and I don't believe in chiropractors. Why, you ask? Why am I flat out and knotty? Because of these soup dumplings. They might be little bundles of deliciousness but they are also diabolical. You might remember that my mother called turkey diabolical, but Thanksgiving has got NOTHING on these babies.
This is was a wonderful dinner, a great treat for those of us that love dim sum, but fast and easy? Not at all. Not in the least. So do you want to keep reading? Because I'll tell you every step.


The ingredient gathering was a cinch. The aforementioned city of Arcadia has a plethora of Chinese markets including the chain Ranch 99. I picked everything up there, including a six pack of Chinese Sarspirilla on sale. I did not buy Chinese smoked ham due to a long line at the deli counter and a pressing, non soup dumpling-related engagement. I used Smithfield Ham, and it seemed to turn into stewed ham jerky as it cooked, infusing the soup with salt and fat. But I'm getting ahead of myself.



The soup: I used chicken backs and wings to make the stock, in addition to all the other called-for ingredients. The soup cooked for about two and a half hours until the chicken began falling apart. It was then time to strain it. Boy, oh boy. I made a mess. I'll leave it at that. My sieve is not that big and so a delicate balance had to be struck: pouring, extracting liquid and then dumping the solids in small increments is actually quite hard; a lot of sloshing occurred. After the soup is strained, it boils down to 2 cups. Months and months ago Chris suggested making a jury stick to determine when things have boiled down to however many cups are called for. That's a great idea, and of course, one that I did not employ. My soup was probably closer to 3.5 cups.


Then you add some powdered gelatin to water, mix that into hot broth, and put it in the fridge to make an aspic. I then took the opportunity to explain what an aspic is to my fiancé: "meaty jello."


The filling: The filling smelled and looked terrific. Pork, shrimp, delicious (and salty) liquids are added and everything is mixed together. There is a fair amount of chopping involved in this stage, just so you know.
The wrappers: This recipe calls for pre-made dumpling skins and boy am I glad they did. Even though it caused beet and poppy sead ravioli flashbacks.
It all comes together: You might be reading this thinking, "I don't know Ms. Moloney, this doesn't sound too labor intensive." You're entitled to your opinion, but may I suggest you re-read the part about the cooking and straining the soup, and I'd also like to tell you that the labor ACCUMULATES. It was the assembly that almost killed me.
At this point your aspic is ready to be cut into small, jiggly cubes of "soup." This aspic will steam and become liquid—theoretically. I mixed the aspic in with the filling. My cubes were way too big but I made it work the best I could.
I then spooned the mixture into the center of each dumpling skin and then the real torture began. From what I understand it is well known that serious dumpling makers can pleat these puppies quickly and with one hand. I started by painstakingly creasing the dumpling skins together and then twisting the top. By the end I was kind of twisting the sides together to form a savory Hershey's Kiss-like structure. I made not quite 75 of these. That's a lot of filling and twisting. A lot. I'm feeling hopeless just thinking about it.



I got a cramp in my deltoid from hunching over the dining room table. I'm not kidding. And I got pork on my phone, but I have only myself to blame for that one.
When it was time to steam them, I lined my bamboo steamer with cabbage leaves and got to work. I was really nervous about undercooking them and poisoning my guests, so I let them go for about 12 minutes. They were delicious, tender, brightly flavored, salty but not too salty. But what they were NOT is juicy. There was no soup to be found. I tried cooking them for a shorter time. Still tasty, still not soupy.
Was it worth it? I'm not sure. They tasted GREAT. However, the next time I want soup dumplings...I'm going to Arcadia.