Chained to the Stove - a Pork and Leek Adventure

In anticipation of going on vacation, I had been avoiding grocery shopping and instead had been trying to clean out my refrigerator via my mouth.  This has inspired such culinary meals as "baby carrots, hummus and hard-boiled eggs."  Take THAT, Top Chef!

Now that the contents of my refrigerator have been reduced to a bottle of "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" spray (yes, I can believe it's not butter) and a lot of bottles of cider beer; I have moved on to my freezer for my culinary inspiration.  

Way in the back of my freezer was a package of pork and leek Chinese dumplings I had purchased from the local Asian grocery store.  (I heart Asian grocery stores.)  I decided that dumplings sounded like a better lunch option than licking off "I really can believe it's not butter" spray off the back of my hand.  I flipped the package around to read the cooking instructions.  Being the skilled chef that I am, I was pretty sure the instructions would tell me to boil some water and drop the dumplings in.  Easy peasy, to quote Jamie Oliver.

However after reading the instructions, I found that it was a little more involved.  It basically read as if my little Chinese Grandmother was telling me the instructions.  Boil a large pot of water.  Throw in the dumplings and let it come to a full boil again.  Then add in a cup of cold water.  Wait for it to come to boil again.  Throw in another cup of cold water.  Wait for it to come to a boil again.  Throw in your third and last cup of cold water.  Wait for it to come to a boil again.  Then drain and serve.

Whaaaat?  Why was this so involved?  I buy frozen packaged food for convenience, not so I can be standing over the stove throwing in cups of cold water every few minutes.  If I wanted to actually pay attention to what was on the stove, I'd be making risotto not frozen dumplings!

I strongly suspect that the makers of these pork and leek dumplings are worried that I will be committing some sort of sin while the dumplings are cooking on the stove.  As if while waiting for the dumplings to come to a boil, I am going to start an underground cockfighting/fight club/opium den in my living room.  So instead the instructions have decided to keep me at the stove, to curtail me from these activities.  "I'm sorry I can't start the latest cock-fighting match because I have to stand here at the stove, waiting to throw in another cup of cold water!"

But who am I to argue with the instructions on the back of a dumplings package?  I was not wild and crazy enough to throw caution to the wind and just let the dumplings boil without additional cups of cold water added in intervals.  (The package directions must be obeyed!)  Who knows why the alternation of cold water to boiling water must occur, but perhaps this rhythmic ritual unlocks the secret tasty treats of Narnia.  Was I willing to settle for average over-boiled dumplings when I could be having "The Lion, The Witch, The Wardrobe and The Pork and Leek Dumplings" for lunch?  I think the answer is obvious.  

I boiled the water and prepared for battle.  The scene in my kitchen was exactly like the movie "300" except without Gerard Butler.  However next time, I'd like to request that Gerard Butler come and watch me make dumplings.  Actually if Gerard Butler was in my kitchen, "making dumplings" would definitely be a euphemism for something else!  I believe I shouted "THIS IS SPARTA!" as I gently dropped the frozen white blobs into the rapidly boiling water.  I had a silicone measuring cup at the ready.  If the instructions wanted me to throw in intervals of cold water, then I would do it without further question.  I was a soldier and the stove was my battlefield.

The immersion of ice cold frozen dumplings took the rapidly boiling water down to a tepid flow.  It was the metaphoric “Dynasty Bitch Slap.”  I felt like I should be wearing shoulder pads and jewels and be bitching about Joan Collins.  (Don’t know what I am talking about when I mention “Dynasty”?  Oh children, Google it.) 

I waited for the water to regain its full furitive boiling state.  I know the old adage that a watched pot never boils, but as I mentioned before if I walked away from the pot I was sure to start letting in Asian men into my newly created opium den.  So stand in front of the pot, I did.  My mother didn't raise me to be an opium den hostess, after all.

Once the water was wildly dancing in hot popping boil bubbles, I threw in the first cup of cold water.  It stopped boiling in a stunned “What the F was that?” reaction.  I again waited for the pot to achieve full frothy rapid boil again before dousing it with yet another cup of cold water.  I seriously began to feel as if I was somehow raining on the parade of this pot of boiling water.  Every time it achieved a fast cha cha of a boil, I slapped it down with a cup of cold water.  I didn’t realize that when I embarked on the story of “Woman Makes Pork and Leek Dumplings” that I would be the villain of the story!  Boiling pots of water just wanna have fun and I was foiling that plan every chance I could get.  How did I become the snotty biatch villain in a 1980's John Hughes movie?  I just wanted dumplings for lunch, people!

As I threw in the final cup of cold water into the pot of dumplings – squelching the rapid boil one last time – I swear the pot of water screamed “ENOUGH ALREADY, stop ruining my rapid boiling party!” 

Life is difficult at times.  Without apparent reason, we’re getting cups of cold water thrown in our face on a regular basis.  The “getting a flat tire when you’re late for an appointment already” cup of cold water.  The “just paid off all my bills and then landed in the hospital and now have more debt than I have ever had” cup of cold water.  The “I thought we were happy and on our way to having a great long-term relationship but then you dumped me” cup of cold water.  Life, unfortunately, hands us a lot of cold water taking the steam out of our rapidly boiling fun. 

After the dumplings were done, I pan-fried them in a little bit of Kalamazoo Olive Company harisa-infused olive oil to give them a crunchy coating.  They were an amazingly delicious lunch.  The freezer rescue menu had triumphed, once again!

The boil – then cool, boil – then cool, boil – then cool cooking instructions had done well for the dumplings.  They were savory with dough that was not gummy.  Evidently standing in front of the stove the entire time, did make a difference.  Time, attention and effort does help make a better product.  Imagine that?!

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