Dumpling making is such an intimate and unique process, one that embraces the delicate balance between precision and flaw. No pinch, fold, or cradle is the same as the last. Pinch too hard the edges become too thin and break, but pinch too softly, the filling leaks out during the boil. In essence, each one is crafted perfectly imperfect by human fingers.
I remember these elements first captivated me at my parents’ dumpling parties. They would invite people from town to come celebrate Chinese New Year with us at our local church. We had the Chinese aunties teach incoming students and families how to shape their own pudgy bundles, which sparked new friendships, laughter and moments of nostalgia —especially for the older immigrants. When the event ended, families took home not only leftovers, but also a newfound skill. Later, we would hear that they happily shared the cultural tradition, teaching others how to craft their own versions.
Moments like these where I can bond over comfort foods and learn how to make them with others has given me so much joy over the years. To capture that warmth and magic, I found it most fitting to focus on the hands and fingers of someone pinching together a dumpling – a tactile action that reflects experience, memory, and community. To me, this piece serves as a reminder of how important it is to hold on to what gives me joy and nourishment, and I hope it does the same for others.
