Asian

Whereas fried sticky rice dumplings have their alluring crispy-chewy skins, steamed sticky rice dumplings are as soft and comforting as a well-worn pair of jeans. They retain the charming soft texture and natural sweetness of sticky rice. I grew up break-fasting on Vietnamese bánh ít (“small dumplings”), though they can certainly be a satisfying brunch, lunch, or snack food. Filled with a surf-and-turf mixture of shrimp, pork, and wood ear and shiitake mushrooms, these dumplings are enjoyed warm, dipped in a pool of soy sauce and pepper. The banana leaf imparts a wonderfully tea-like quality to the dumplings during the cooking process. These are easy to make, especially when the filling is prepared a day in advance. Viet cooks often use boiling water to create glutinous rice dough, but the dough is easier to handle and control when cold water is used. I combine two kinds of glutinous rice flour (see page 15) to arrive at a texture that is pleasantly chewy, not overly sticky. The rice flours are available at Asian markets, as is fresh or frozen banana leaf.

Opening up a steamed lotus leaf packet and inhaling its alluring musty fragrance is part of many Cantonese dim sum rituals. Inside, the sticky rice is stained a rich brown from the leaf, and once you start digging toward the center with chopsticks, there is a treasure trove of succulent ingredients. Figuring out what comprises the filling is most fun. Chicken is often included, as jī (fowl) is part of these packets’ name in Mandarin; they are called lo mai gai in Cantonese. Chicken is commonly combined with shiitake mushrooms and Chinese sweet sausage, as is done here. But cooks can add a myriad of other boldly flavored or rich ingredients, such as roasted char siu pork (page 224), roast duck, dried shrimp, salted egg yolk, and chestnuts. Lotus leaf packets can be made large enough for several people to share, but I prefer to present a small one to each guest. I freeze extras as a homemade convenience food to be later revived and packed into a lunch box or enjoyed on the road. At Chinese and Southeast Asian markets, you will find the sticky rice and dried sweet sausages. Packages of fanlike dried lotus leaves are usually near the dried mushrooms; they are inexpensive and last indefinitely if stored in a dry spot. If you are making lotus packets for the first time, soak a couple of extra leaves in case you tear them.

Earthy and well-seasoned, this filling features char siu pork and shiitake mushrooms. The five-spice power adds sweet perfume, while the dried shrimp injects a note of the sea. Feel free to vary this filling by substituting a combination of chopped raw pork and shrimp for the roasted pork below.

Cantonese deep-fried sticky rice dumplings can be filled many ways, but there is usually chopped rehydrated shiitake mushroom and a little chopped dried shrimp for savory oomph. With those two ingredients in this vegetable-laden alternative, you won’t miss the meat.

Commonly sold on Styrofoam trays at Chinese and Southeast Asian markets, these opaque white rice rolls flecked with orange dried shrimp and green scallion are a terrific southern Chinese snack. Purchased ones are seldom as tasty as homemade because producers tend to be skimpy with the dried shrimp, which give the rolls their oomph. These steamed rolls can be eaten as is, dipped in sweet soy sauce. Or they can be panfried to a delicate crisp. When served with other dishes, a few rolls are all you will need. For a light main course with a salad, double or triple the recipe.

Traditionally a Cantonese Lunar New Year treat, but now a standard dim sum offering, these remarkable football-shaped dumplings have a tender, crisp skin that yields to a wonderful sweet chewiness when you bite into them. Light brown sugar helps to color the dough during frying and adds a bit of sweetness—a contrast with the savory pork or vegetable filling. I usually avoid these dumplings (called haam sui gok in Cantonese) at dim sum restaurants because they tend to be leaden and overly greasy. However, made at home, they are irresistible. Make sure to prepare the filling before making the dough.

Asian dumplings are often prepared with chopped shrimp, but these rolls are filled with whole shrimp and always seem extra decadent. Called har cheung in Cantonese, they are a perennial favorite dim sum—delighting diners with the orange-pink glow of the shrimp beneath the sheath of rice sheet. On their own, the rolls will seem very mild flavored. But finishing them with the sweet soy sauce makes all the elements sing.

Versatile rice sheets are an integral part of many Asian cuisines; they can be cut into fresh noodles, dried into rice papers or crackers, and used as delicate wrappers for filled treats. Called ho fun in Cantonese, the sheets are nothing but big noodles made from silky batters of mostly rice and water. Many Asian cooks purchase opaque rice sheets, but for the purposes of dumpling making, it is best to prepare them yourself, as this guarantees freshness and a terrific toothsome texture. You need just a few for an abundance of tasty shrimp- or beef-filled rolls like the ones found at dim sum parlors. The sheets can be cooked and filled hours in advance of serving. A quick steaming is all they need right before serving. I have tried soaking and grinding raw rice for this batter but have never been as satisfied with the results as when I use rice flour from Thailand. The flour is both consistent and convenient. Look for it at Asian markets in plastic bags, typically with red lettering. Adding cornstarch and tapioca starch to the batter contributes to the sheets’ resilience and slight translucence. When starting out, make a double batch of batter so you can get plenty of practice.

Rice roll fillings are often precooked and reheated through steaming, but this popular one involves a filling of raw beef and orange zest that requires steaming to complete the cooking. For efficiency, professional Chinese cooks typically add the raw beef to the rice sheet about 30 seconds into cooking, but that is a difficult technique. Filling cooked sheets and then steaming them to cook the beef is easier and the results are the same. You do not have to use the baking soda in the filling, but some Chinese cooks use it as a meat tenderizer and to lend a silky texture. The beef should be hand- or machine-chopped so it isn’t too finely textured and clumpy (see page 158 for guidance).

Chinese cooks use rice sheets as wrappers for not only shrimp and beef, but also tasty stir-fries like this one. The chicken and vegetable mixture here could be used as a filling for deep-fried spring rolls, but it is also wonderful in this delicate treatment: encased in rice sheets and steamed. The chicken and vegetables are cut into matchsticks to complement the shape of the oll. To cut the chicken, freeze it first for 5 to 10 minutes, slice it, and then stack the slices and slice again into thick matchsticks. Pork tenderloin or beef flank can be substituted for the chicken. For a vegetarian version, replace the chicken with 2/3 cup packed shredded bamboo shoots (boil for 1 minute first to eliminate the tinny flavor) and decrease the cornstarch to 2 teaspoons.

Thai food is full of bold juxtapositions of flavor and texture. For these crystalline dumplings, the chewy skin is made from tapioca pearls (saku in Thai). The filling of pork, peanuts, shallot, palm sugar, and fish sauce is crumbly, sweet, salty, and savory. To eat, the dumplings are wrapped in lettuce leaves with fresh herbs and hot chiles. Saku sai mu is a popular street food in Thailand; here in the States, I have purchased them at Thai markets and snack shops. Making the dumplings at home ensures freshness and availability, and the ingredients can be found at most supermarkets. Hard-core cooks may handmince pork shoulder or chicken thigh and seek out cilantro root and palm sugar from Southeast Asian markets, but ground meat (avoid superlean pork or chicken), cilantro stems, and brown sugar are terrific stand-ins.

It is easy to overindulge in these chewy-soft dumplings because they slip right down your throat. Just as you are savoring the rich scallion oil, well-seasoned filling, and tangy-sweet-spicy dipping sauce, the dumpling is gone, and you must eat another. The skin of this central Vietnamese specialty is traditionally made of tapioca starch; I add a little wheat starch for firmness, lest the dough become unpleasantly rubbery. Some Viet cooks laboriously wrap each bánh bot loc in a banana leaf and steam them. I don’t have such patience and boil mine for the “naked” (tran) version. When peeling the shrimp, save the shells for a stock to use in the sauce.

Delectable scallop dumplings often combine scallop and shrimp, but I prefer a filling that features just scallop. The silky plump flesh gets a boost from rehydrated shreds of dried scallop, the stealth ingredient that gives this dumpling its distinctive savory-briny-sweet edge. Shredded carrot imparts a pinky-orange glow. Dried scallops are sold at Chinese markets in 8-ounce plastic packages in the refrigerated foods section near the dried shrimp, as well as by the ounce. The packaged ones are small, the size of bay scallops. Larger ones, resembling thick checkers pieces, are individually sold by weight because they are pricey; buying two of them, however, is not prohibitively expensive. I mostly purchase little ones, refrigerate them in a zip-top plastic bag, and use a little more than I would otherwise. The instructions here are for shaping big ruffly dumplings like the Chiu Chow dumplings on page 137. If you prefer cute pleated morsels, substitute this filling for the one in the har gow shrimp dumpling recipe (page 135).

You can often spot these crystalline, dome-shaped dumplings from a far because of their contents: emerald green Chinese chives. The garlicky, flat-leaf green is a workhorse ingredient in Chinese dumpling making that commonly plays a supporting role. Here the chives are the star, flavored by a bit of shrimp in regular and dried form to punch things up a bit. Chinese chive dumplings (called gow choy gow in Cantonese) can be served steamed or panfried to a delicate crispness, my preferred option. They do not freeze well, but I’ve never had a problem gobbling them up quickly.

Many Chiu Chow people migrated from mainland China to Southeast Asia, particularly to the Malay Peninsula. That is why you will find Chiu Chow dumplings among the hawker street food offerings in places like Penang. Along with the regular version in the preceding recipe, there is usually a vegetarian option. Chai kuih (literally “vegetable cake”) can be flavored with dried shrimp and oyster sauce, or it can be totally vegetarian. I have presented the latter, though you can certainly add the other seasonings if you wish. The mushroom soaking liquid adds savory depth to this jewel-like filling, so remember to save it after rehydrating the shiitakes.

The Cantonese dim sum repertoire would be incomplete without this wonderful contribution from the Chiu Chow, a seafaring people from a region located on the Taiwan Strait. Robustly flavored by briny dried shrimp, this dumpling also tastes light because it’s packed with vegetables, including jicama and shiitake mushrooms, and peanuts. The varied texture of the filling gets rounded out by a touch of pork, though you can use any meat. Because there is lots of chopping involved with the filling, make it a couple days in advance to minimize last-minute pressures. I first enjoyed these nearly twenty years ago in Hong Kong and they instantaneously became one of my favorites. Good renditions were hard to find in the United States, so I began making them myself. Enjoy them alone or with soy sauce and an Asian chile garlic sauce of your choice. If jicama is not available, substitute canned water chestnuts.

Well known by their Cantonese name har gow, these delightful pinkish-white morsels are among the most popular offerings at dim sum houses. They go fast, and I’ve chased down my fair share of dim sum ladies to get a fresh order. When I started making my own and realized that they can be kept refrigerated and frozen, my fear of har gow scarcity diminished. These are difficult to prepare only if you aim to produce exemplary diminutive ones, which most dim sum places don’t. Start out with ones that are a little bigger and scale down as you gain dexterity. You can even make these dumplings as half-moons, and they’ll taste swell. Use the best shrimp possible, and immerse the canned bamboo shoots in boiling water to rid it of its tinny flavor before chopping. To make the pork fat easier to mince, blanch it in boiling water for 1 minute, or until firm. Obtain the fat from fatback (I go to a Latino butcher counter) or cut it off a pork chop. Fatty bacon works well, too.

This malleable, snowy white dough is the foundation for many Cantonese dim sum favorites, such as Chiu Chow Dumplings (page 137) and Har Gow Shrimp Dumplings (page 135). Wheat starch dough is easy to manipulate; texturally, it is like Play-Doh. In fact, I’ve seen rabbit-shaped dumplings made from this type of dough. You can definitely sculpt it, though I mostly focus on making sure the filling is sealed up well. When cooked, this dough has a translucency that allows the filling colors to be visible in a beautiful, impressionistic way. Wheat starch on its own would make a dough that is too firm, so dim sum cooks commonly add elasticity by way of tapioca starch, though cornstarch and potato starch are options, too. The oil lends suppleness and richness. This dough can be prepared up to 6 hours in advance and kept at room temperature in the plastic bag. When forming wrappers from this dough, do your best to keep the cut dough and formed wrappers covered with plastic wrap to prevent drying. At Chinese markets, look for plastic bags of wheat starch near other starches and flours; Middle Eastern markets sometimes carry it, too. Tapioca starch is reasonably priced at Chinese and Southeast Asian markets but is also available at health food stores, specialty grocers, and some supermarkets.

Stuffed with intriguing spice-laden fillings, curry puffs are a very popular snack in Malaysia, Singapore, and Thailand. In food-crazy Singapore, there are even plastic curry puff molds available for cooks to make perfect-looking puffs. The filling varies, but the most popular ones feature potato or sardines, both of which are lifted from their humble origins with a heavy dose of fragrant spices and/or chile heat. The dough depends on the cook, who may prepare French-style puff pastry with margarine and bake the results, stick with simple flaky pastry (page 113) to produce old-fashioned crisp fried puffs, or employ Chinese flaky pastry to yield puffs whose shape resembles magnificent clam shells. For a spectacular treat, I prepare curry puffs with Chinese flaky pastry. These deep-fried wonders are out of this world. For old-fashioned puffs, substitute either of the curry puff fillings for the one in the Vietnamese Shrimp, Pork and Jicama Turnover recipe (page 118). See the Lazy Day Tip below for making puffs with commercial puff pastry. Anyone who has made empanadas (page 111) will be a whiz at filling these.

The notion of canned sardines in pastry may seem distasteful, but millions of Southeast Asians consider karipap sardin to be delightful soul food. Any fishy intensity is mitigated by a simple combination of supporting ingredients, including ketchup, lime, and fresh chile. Chopped hard-cooked egg adds richness to this quintessential curry puff filling. For small cans of sardines (5 1/2 ounces, which is about the size of a regular can of tomato paste), head to a Chinese, Southeast Asian, or Latino market. Many Asian cooks prefer Ligo brand. Canned sardines sold at supermarkets come in larger portions, so just use part of the can. This filling is also good on toast.