Robin arrives in Shanghai saying that all she wanted to do in China is eat dumplings. This turns out to not be true in that this is really not all she wants to do. However, eat dumplings we do. Dumplings with a story.
On the first morning after her arrival, Robin and I go for morning coffee and divergent (oh so divergent!) conversation. A lazy Saturday. In between coffees, I leave her to dash to the ATM and buy her dumplings. The type that come in soup.
A mere 15 minutes later, I come back to Costa Coffee to find Robin sitting with a young dude. They have struck an instant friendship, despite the fact that he has approached her with something in the lines of "you-smell-awesome-what-shampoo-do-you-use". Far from freaking her out, they acknowledge each other as kindred spirits and sit for coffee together. (Robin drinks tea, actually, so I use "coffee" as a concept).
And I find them engaged in intent conversation. Hunter is his name. So in the time it has taken me to get some cash and dumplings, Robin has already learnt that Hunter's been educated in an international school in China; that he speaks perfect Chinese; that he is a consultant of sorts; that his dream is to become a workshop facilitator; that in consequence he is passionate about storytelling; that he is originally from somewhere weird in the States, considering his cosmopolitan background; and that he knows the BEST place for dumplings in our area.
I'll skip to the part when we actually go to Hunter's dumpling place. The type of dumpling they make here is not the small one that comes in soup, but the big (HUGE) dumpling that is steamed and then fried. Or only fried, I forget.
They are big. They are allegedly stuffed with shrimp, or pork and veggies, or whatever else. The bottom is crusty from the frying. You bite off the top and slurp the "juice" inside. Noisily, if you can manage that. Then you eat it. In a few bites, because it is a huge dumpling. Trying to balance the thing in your chopsticks. (I later noticed that those who are more savvy also take a spoon to help in the process!) That juice inside is superb.
We have dumplings every time we get a chance. All types, in fact. At a given moment I take a few days' break, but for Robin's last meal, right before going to the airport, we go back to Hunter's place.
About a week later, I go to another branch of Yang's Dumpling. (Not YAN G'S DUMP LING, as the sign reads!) I order my favourite. I cannot eat them. They are so greasy and disgusting.
Upon telling my friends about my disappointment, they say that all of them are greasy. Big time. In fact, they had been bewildered that Robin and I had not noticed in our first two visits. I'm not surprised, food junkies that we are.
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For what Robin has to say about dumplings check http://startingfromzed.blogspot
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