One of the most wonderful things about studying abroad is the international community of which I find myself a member — many students hail from lands far more exotic than my London, England. Through my international contacts, I have become involved with Tufts' Intercultural Conversation Program, which aims to pair up native and non−native English speakers to practice English−language skills and learn a bit about each other's cultures.
The program is a fantastic way to meet people from different realms and walks of life. I highly recommend it to anyone who wishes to broaden their horizons and meet new and interesting people from around the globe. I have been lucky enough to be paired with Qin and Yuan from China.
A more savvy person than I would make the most of this pairing to also learn Mandarin — a sound investment for a globalized future. Still, the British ineptitude for languages runs deep, so my Mandarin remains limited to "nihao" — hello — but least I am making new friends.
Fortunately for me, it turns out that Qin is a dab hand in the kitchen, and she's not opposed to sharing her skills. For one of our weekly get−togethers, we opted to make Chinese dumplings from scratch.
Rather appropriately, I came to our cooking lesson straight from the Niall Ferguson lecture, which predicted the decline of the West and the need for strong Western−Chinesedialogue and relations. A cooking session seemed an excellent way to start.
Qin was busy with prep work prior to my arrival, creating mountains of finely diced cabbage, mushrooms, minced pork, piles of pancakes and seasonings. She had even prepared a spare dish "in case we didn't like dumplings," and made dessert out of a white, leaf−like protein in sweet juice, which is reportedly very good for the skin!
We made the evening a double date with another pair from equally exotic locations: Taiwan and Oklahoma. We were a true melting pot of cultures.
And so the fun began. First, we mixed the ingredients, which included pork mince, Chinese cabbage, mushroom, egg, sesame oil and all manner of spices and seasonings.
Forming the dumplings was akin to origami. It required delicate folding and using water as glue to make the pancakes stick to each other. We made two varieties: a small square−shaped pancake and a larger round pancake. Qin had been generous with ingredients, and we made dumpling after dumpling, lining them up into serried ranks to await boiling.
In a touching moment, Qin explained that she likes making dumplings because it reminds her of home and family. I explained this is why I like drinking white wine. I think she thought I was joking — I wasn't.
We eventually decided to boil some of the little morsels. A quick five minutes in water, and they were ready to be dipped in a little soy and sesame oil to flavor them.
I was pleasantly surprised at our burgeoning dumpling preparation skills — the dumplings were truly delectable. Our production value was suitably high, and at the end of the evening, both our stomachs and our individual freezers were filled to the brim with dumplings.
I am so grateful to Qin for her patient instruction. I now feel that I have a new skill for making something I would have never attempted before. Most importantly, I have a new, authentic dish to show off at dinner parties in London. Now excuse me while I sip wine and think of England.
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