Making dumplings is a committee affair. It’s a task best executed by many hands, surrounded by the staccato of competing voices, techniques being criticized, children underfoot.
Assembly lines make quick work of the dough, which is stretched and pulled, tucked over fillings and stockpiled for a roiling pot of water. Then, finally, the end result is devoured by eager mouths, one after another, seeing who could consume the most, signifying an abundant new year.
Like tamales in Latino households or lefse to Norwegians, dumplings are a food that signifies a family celebration. These foods are usually made by grandmas and aunties, the best ones often from a closely held recipe passed down only to select descendants. Dumplings, which represent fortune and prosperity, are especially significant in Chinese New Year celebrations, which this year, the year of the Dragon, begins on Feb. 10.
For Peter Bian and Linda Cao, both children of Chinese immigrants, the dumpling experience was far different when the holiday landed during the pandemic.
Cao’s parents had flown home to Beijing to celebrate Chinese New Year in February 2020. The monthlong celebration filled with traditions of food and family visits collided with what would become a global pandemic. They ended up staying, and remain there to this day.
Bian and Cao were in their condo kitchen, far from the clatter of mahjong tiles and the promise of red envelopes stuffed with cash — a tradition that symbolizes good wishes and luck for the year ahead. There they stuffed, folded and tucked dumplings to freeze and hand out to friends who were also craving connection.
They used Bian’s family recipe, and worked together.
“Growing up I was always the one to roll out all the dumpling skins. I was never good enough to get promoted to wrapping,” Cao said. She got the hang of it as the two became a team, celebrating the Chinese New Year in isolation. That evening led to the creation of an Instagram-famous business that would serve as an example of the good that came out of those dark, lonely days: Saturday Dumpling Co.