“Can dumplings be mei li?” I asked testing the chinese word I learned for beautiful.
"No--Flowers!" G laughed at me. "That word is only for flowers--or girls. Not for dumplings." I laughed with him, though secretly I thought dumplings could be beautiful--mine weren't, of course, but those that S made while teaching me were amazingly uniform.
They looked like half-flowers. The transformation from a small thin disk of dough into a folded, stuffed dumpling was practically a miracle. A miracle that wasn't mine to experience apparently.
"You did a good job." S gave me a thumbs-up as G boiled the jiao zi.
"How do you know when it's ready?" I asked curiously, leaning over his wok.
G shrugged, "By experience."
Experience, again.
"How will I know, then?" I asked, laughing a little.
He grinned, "Someday, you will have experience."
I nodded ruefully. That had sounded very wise-man-on-a-mountain.
Basically, there was nothing for me to do but....I didn't finish my thought. I noticed I could easily tell which were the mei li de jiao zi, and which weren't. Luckily beautiful dumpling or ugly dumpling--they both tasted delicious, which is a lesson you learn in the kitchen, sometimes.
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