Chinese Dumplings

"They're not dumplings", I said knowingly! "Dumplings are sort of round and squishy, they belong in stews, beef or lamb, they stick to your ribs in the cold English weather, give you a warm coating to protect you from the full awfulness of the British weather. Dumplings, real dumplings are made with suet, flour and a pinch of salt. Some, the posher ones, have dried herbs". I took a deep breath.

"These things are parcels. Chinese parcels, wrapped with bamboo leaves containing a whole host of things which does not include suet. Chinese parcels, loosely called dumplings by the unknowing some, are made with two types of rice, have pork, chestnuts, dried prawns and all sorts of goodies to fill eager starving tummies. They, in no way, resemble those gooey lumps found loosely associating with over boiled lamb, demolished potatoes and disintegrated barley."

I was in high dudgeon. I was on my high horse, which was standing on a soap box and I was getting very bloody annoyed at the whole misnomer. I was irrational, true, but I was making a point.

 "Chinese parcels are not dumplings". 

It was like the whole bloody turkey bacon saga all over again, or that of the non-alcoholic beer. What next, non-pork pork and non-alcoholic alcohol?

 "Other things are Chinese dumplings. Things that are made of pastry. Things that are fried and dunked in vinegar with ginger strips, or steamed with minced pork and chives inside, or boiled with long flowing tresses of wet pastry trailing like Won Ton but much, much larger. Chinese dumplings surface in Dim Sum eateries, alongside Siu Mai, steamed ribs, feet of chickens and wide rice flour made noodles called Cheong Fun, which fairly drip with flavour (not to mention hoisin sauce) and are hauled around on shaky, rambling, trolleys in restaurants in London’s China Town."

We British have translation problems when we try to talk about Chinese Dumplings. We are out of our depth, out of our culture, lost amidst a veritable ocean of succulent Chinese morsels, each being called dumplings by we foreigners who know no difference. And, be honest, which would you choose - Chinese parcels, which are called Chang (Chung) or dumplings, soggy English dumplings. Chinese dumplings are dumplings but tastier than any from British cooks. They far out strip our humble British dumplings which swim, but most likely sinking, in stews like those of my dear departed mother; thin, lifeless stews, stews existing purely to make her robust dumplings buoyant.

Yes, you guessed it, it's that time of year again in Malaysia. A time of remembrance of ancient Chinese poets and their sacrifices for Emperor, and country. A time of dragon races and over eating, and yes I know that just about every week there is an excuse for that in Malaysia, but this is a time honoured tradition so, of course, I have to comply don't I, don’t I?.

June is a time when, once again, Chinese sons and daughters return home to help ageing relatives consume those heaps of Chinese, bamboo-leaf-wrapped, parcels that loving relatives have tenderly made for their eagerly returning kin. Let's face it, anything concerned with food is practically sacred in Malaysia, and more so if you are Chinese. Chinese love to eat, they live to eat, they long to eat. The 'Dumpling Festival' provides a Spring excuse to consume weighty amounts of rice and meat filled parcels, until consumers can consume no more and have to remain  seated, bloated, unable to rise from the table.

Home-made parcels are simply the best. They are fragrantly imbued with all those family and cultural heritage tastes/remembrances. It is that poignant combination of culture, memory and a full stomach which entices sons and daughters to return 'home', dragged away by cultural consciences from that other Chinese love -that of making money.