The Two Histories of the Dumpling

Vivian Zhi

The “official” story goes like this: During the Eastern Han Dynasty, which lasted from 202 BC – 220 AD, Zhang Zhongjing, a Chinese physician was going back to his hometown for his retirement. He found out that many people were suffering from hunger and the bitter coldness of winter, and they all had the same symptom — frozen ears. Upon seeing this, he asked his assistant to cook them medicine using mutton and herbs and distributed them until the day before the first day of Chinese New Year. They felt warmer after eating the dumpling-like medicine, and their ears were no longer frozen. Since then, it has been a tradition to eat dumplings on the first day of Chinese New Year. 

My story goes like this: I’m watching my mom and aunt on the other side of the kitchen island make dumplings - well, we call them wontons since we use a thinner wrapper and the shape is different. My family is celebrating Chinese New Year with a feast, and the kitchen is already producing some wonderful smells. My aunt chops up the meat filling with a large cleaver, adding in scallions, mushrooms, and all sorts of delicious morsels, before scraping it with her knife, turning the meat over, and dicing up the meat again. Scraping up a piece of filling with her spoon, my mom places it in the middle of a wrapper. She seals up the wonton by wetting her finger and folding it up in a simple yet elegant manner. My fingers itch to help, but my mom makes me watch her fold a few dozen wontons first as a demonstration. 

While my mom is showing me where to fold the wrapper, she tells me about how her mother taught her and her sisters to make wontons. They grew up poor in China, so they had to rely on themselves to grow and make food. 

“Just ask your Ema!” my mom says. 

My aunt hums in agreement as she smacks down the pile of filling with her knife. She scraps it back up again and dumps it in a bowl next to me.

“There, now it’s your turn to make it.”

I can feel the sigh of disappointment from all my dead ancestors as they gaze upon my first wonton. I turn to my mom, and she lets out a laugh as she gazes at the abomination I’ve made. She encourages me to try again, and soon enough, wonton by wonton, I continue my family tradition.