I always suspected that making dumplings was as much an excuse to gather the family together for relaxed conversation – a chance to catch up on gossip and news – as it was to put together a delicious meal. Even today, I find I most enjoy making dumplings when I’m doing it with my family or friends (occasionally I’ll still make them on my own, cajoled by my boyfriend, who adores those little dough-encased packets of savory filling, but it’s never as much fun.)

Dumpling neophytes are often intimidated by the technique, which looks hopelessly complicated at first. But because I firmly believe that the dumpling experience is as much about the process as it is about enjoying the finished product, I always insist that everyone sharing in a dumpling meal try to make at least one or two. Nearly everyone I’ve harassed into giving the process a shot finds that after a few tries, they’ve got the skills down pat. Of course, you can always get creative with the wrapping as well – although the pleated crescent shape is traditional, you should by no means feel like you absolutely have to go with the tried and true.

If you’ve only ever experienced the version served in Chinese restaurants, where dumplings (a.k.a. Peking ravioli, potstickers) are generally enormous lumps of grease and fatty meat, you’ll be surprised to find that the homemade version is infinitely tastier and a lot healthier. I’ve served dumplings to the most finicky of eaters, and have yet to meet a person who doesn’t love these fabulous little food bites.