Swallowing clouds

As part of Jude and Serene's ongoing effort to recreate all things we love to eat from home, we made wontons tonight. The schizophrenic Michigan weather turned chilly this weekend and the temptation of a steaming bowl of dumplings and noodles was too hard to resist. Wonton noodles are a dime and dozen in Singapore, but as with all foods from home, there are either hard to find here in Ann Arbor, or what we have isn't very good. A teeny pinch of meat in thick, floury wrapper, floating lifelessly in of-dubious-origin broth is not wonton soup, people. On a night like tonight, I had visions of succulent dumplings bopping in a broth richly flavored with Chinese wine and ginger. And so, that's what we had for dinner :)


Homemade wontons are just yummy. They take some work, but these little gems are worth it. Slightly translucent and slippery as they slither down your throat, they manage to be succulent, delicate, and satisfying all at the same time.

I've written before about the lyricism of the Chinese language, and today, as we tucked into our steaming bowls of wonton noodle soup, I am reminded again of how beautiful and evocative my mother tongue can be. The word "won 云 ton 吞 " translates literally into "swallowing clouds"- perfectly apt for these comforting morsels of dumpling goodness :)