Pushi Dumplings

Pushi Dumplings

　　People in Pushi commonly refer to wontons as "dumplings" (饺儿), simply because both are made with flour wrappers and filled with meat. To distinguish them, the slightly smaller wontons are called dumplings. Of course, some even add the word "small" to call them "little dumplings," ensuring that whether you’re making them at home or eating out, there’s absolutely no confusion.

　　It’s undisputed that northerners love eating dumplings while southerners prefer wontons. Although influenced by the market economy, various types of dumplings with different fillings can now be found in the south, eating them often still doesn’t create the same deep longing as for these dumplings.

　　One weekend, my best friend called and said she wanted to eat dumplings, asking me to join her—and insisting we go to Pushi. I naturally couldn’t refuse; this culinary pull was something even she couldn’t resist. Pushi was once known as the “Little Nanjing,” a place bustling with merchants and economic prosperity, with crisscrossing streets and alleys. Unless you were a native, it was easy to get lost in Pushi. Fortunately, although we weren’t locals, we had long since memorized every alley in town, all thanks to Pushi’s dumplings.

　　After getting off the bus, we headed straight for Pushi’s breakfast street. It was almost noon by then, so the street was a bit quiet, with many shops already closed. We found a dumpling shop, ordered two bowls of dumplings, and watched as the owner swiftly scooped a bunch of pre-made dumplings from a tray and dumped them all into a pot of boiling water. It seemed we were in luck to get the last two servings.

　　On one side, the owner ladled out some clear broth made from bones and pork skin into the bowls; on the other, the dumplings flipped a few times in the boiling water before floating uniformly to the surface. As the saying goes, raw dumplings sink, cooked ones float. The owner quickly scooped them up with a strainer, placed them in the bowls, sprinkled some pepper, added chopped scallions, and served them to us.

　　Pushi dumplings may look plain and simple in the bowl, but they smell incredibly fragrant. One key feature that sets Pushi dumplings apart from others is their thin wrappers and generous fillings. Each delicate dumpling sits in the clear broth, with a big lump of bright red minced pork peeking through the wrapper—like a fairy in white, gently swaying her sleeves, half-concealing her rosy, charming smile and figure from our view. One bite reveals an even more delightful taste: the broth is rich and savory, the wrapper soft and thin—so thin it nearly melts in your mouth. The pork filling carries the natural fragrance of the meat, authentic and unadulterated, with just a hint of spiciness from the pepper, yet clean and pure beyond words.

　　If you just want to eat dumplings, there are plenty of shops in the county town selling them. Though they all consist of wrappers wrapped around filling, each has its own characteristics, different appearances, and a wide variety of flavors. But overall, they mostly use machine-rolled wrappers, machine-ground meat, and broth made with MSG and chicken essence. No matter how thick or thin the wrappers are, or how much filling they have, unless you’re really starving, you won’t be inclined to appreciate them with the mindset of a food connoisseur.

　　I also tried making wontons myself, using only bone broth without MSG or chicken essence. But no matter what, the wontons I made were always just a little off compared to Pushi’s dumplings. Later, I learned that the reason Pushi dumplings are truly exceptional is that their wrappers are hand-rolled, making them softer and smoother to eat. Machine-made wrappers are inevitably a bit tougher, and the texture is noticeably inferior. The pork filling is also always hand-chopped to preserve the meat’s natural freshness. It’s quite a curious phenomenon—just like how hand-torn cabbage tastes better than knife-chopped cabbage. Perhaps ingredients, too, benefit from a bit of human care. Wrappers and fillings infused with emotion are like softened hearts, delivering the most delicious flavors.

　　Later, I struck a deal with a Pushi dumpling shop owner to buy a pound of hand-rolled wrappers from her. Then, patiently chopping the meat by hand, simmering bones and pork skin for the broth and skimming off the foam, and using nothing but salt and pepper as seasonings, I finally managed to recreate Pushi-style dumplings with an authentic local flavor.