Growing up in a half white/American/caucasian/Euromix and half Korean household has definitely left some gaps in the cultural understanding of my Korean heritage. Which is interesting because my mom is first generation Korean, born and raised in Seoul, and didn't even come to the US until she was in her early 20s. Unfortunately (kind of, in a specific sort of way) for me and my sister, my mom is AWESOME at assimilating. She learned English fairly handily, cooked American food for us growing up, and continued to foster a love of American rock and metal, which originated in her rebellious youth as a teenager in South Korea. Growing up, she only spoke English to me and my sister, probably partly out of a desire to improve her English, and partly out of desire to allow our dad to be a part of the conversation.

That being said, it's not as if my mom turned her back on her Korean roots and refused to let us explore. We had our traditional 100 day parties and huge 1st birthday. We had a celebration every New Year, visited our Korean cousins, and my sister even endured a short stint at Korean school where she would come home crying, because middle-school aged Korean girls can be mean. That lasted not very long and after witnessing the emotional turmoil, no extra effort was made to push me into that program. We also ate Korean food. Lots of it. My mom was so good at adapting to American norms that she even translated classic Korean dish names for my family. Which is weird now, when I meet...like actual Korean people, or 2nd or 3rd generation Koreans who have a grasp of the language and we inevitably start talking about the food, because I only learned about 6 of the actual Korean names of dishes as a child. They are...kimchi, ddeukguk (which I still think of as duck gook - like gross slimy things that might come off of a duck), galbi, bulgogi, bap, and uyu. All other dishes were referred to by what they were, prefaced by the descriptor "Korean." So Korean black noodles (jjangmyeun), Korean cold noodle soup (mul-naengmyun), Korean pancakes (buchujeon), Korean sushi (gimbap), and so on and so forth, ad infinitum.

Which brings us to mandu...aka Korean dumplings.

I made some.

Mandu

Note - when I post pastry dishes, measurements will always be in weight, fairly specific, and non-compromising. When I post savory dishes, measurements are kind of in wing-it mode, because that's what cooking is, after all, right?

Second note - I made the skins from scratch, which was very very optimistic of me, but I'll probably not ever do it again, unless I have a friend, or more ideally, a small army of korean women who can fill as quickly as I can punch out dough rounds.

Filling:

500g ground pork
500g ground beef
- Meat marinade: 2 TB soy sauce, 1 TB toasted sesame oil, 1 ts grated ginger, 1 TB grated garlic
1 container firm tofu, all liquid squeezed out through cheesecloth
4 each green onions OR 1 bunch garlic chives, chopped fine
100g glass noodles, cooked, rinsed with cold water, and chopped fine
- Additionally: 2 TB sesame oil, 2 TB grated garlic

Skins:

600g flour
2g salt
4g egg white
15g vegetable oil
235g water, lukewarm

For the filling: I feel a little silly listing the amounts of the filling, because it's mostly all really what you like - you can add cooked, drained, squeezed bean sprouts, you can do all ground pork, you can add squeezed kimchi, or whatever. When I made this, I didn't have that much stuff in the fridge so I just used what I had. The most important thing is to be sure to expel (easiest way is through wrapping the ingredient up in cheesecloth and squeezing) all excess water for ingredients that contain a lot of extra liquid (like the tofu). Basically, you combine the meats and let it hang out in the marinade while you prep the rest of the ingredients. Squeeze all items that need to be squeezed, chop all items that need to be chopped, and combine everything in a large stainless steel bowl. Easy, right?

Now, I HIGHLY suggest that you buy the pre-made store bought dumpling skins unless you are a dumpling making pro, or unless you have extra hands in the kitchen. If you want to try to make the dough from scratch, it is actually fairly simple, you just have to work very fast, or find a way to maintain dumpling skin homeostasis between a skin that is too wet or a skin that is too dry.

For the dough: Scale the flour into a large bowl with the salt, make a well in the center of the flour (like pasta!) and add the egg white, vegetable oil, and most of the water (I hold a little back in the beginning). Using a fork, or whatever implement feels right to you, work the liquid into the flour until it all comes together in a nice elastic looking dough ball. You may need to add a little more or less water, depending on conditions. After you mix it, let it rest for at least 60 minutes at room temperature. After that, you are ready to roll! I like to work in smaller sections of dough, keeping the main dough ball wrapped up while I work on a smaller portion. I used a pasta machine to roll out the dough, but you could also use a rolling pin or bottle of wine or whatever. Once you have a nice uniform sheet of dough (it should be fairly thin - just almost transparent), you can cut out the rounds. Again, I used a stainless steel cutter, but if you don't have one, you could use an inverted cup or glass. My cutter was about 90mm or 3.5 inches, but I wish it had been a little bigger - maybe closer to a 4 inch diameter would be nice. Once they are cut, do not flour and stack them! This is where I made a critical error. They are soft, and will mush together, making a homogenous dough tower, that will make you sad when you realize they won't pull apart. Keep them separate, and maybe cover with a damp cloth, unless you are able to do the punch-immedietly-fill method, which would probably be best.

To fill the mandu: You will need a little bowl of water or egg white, a spoon, a damp cloth, a tray lined with parchment paper, and much patience and even more time - I mean it. You either want lots of time or lots of people. This is the way I do it, which I am positive is not the best way, (if you want the best way, you are going to have to go find your own halmeoni to follow around and not be lazy and just read this recipe written by someone who clearly doesn't really know Korean food) is to hold a skin flat in your non-dominant hand, and use the index finger of your other hand to paint a little egg white around half the circumference of the dough circle. Don't use too much. Spoon up some filling and plop it in the middle of the round - I try to make it slightly ovular shaped to make it easier on myself. Line up the edges, starting at the middle (its the point where there is the most tension across the mandu), and press firmly, using your middle finger to shove errant meat filling trying to escape. Work your way down each side, expelling air, and pressing the seam firmly to ensure a good hold. You can pleat the edges if you're fancy, otherwise, drop that little guy on the parchment lined sheet tray and wipe any excess egg white/meat filling sticking to your fingers on your damp cloth. Repeat.

Mandu lives happily in the freezer. Just freeze it in a single layer on the sheet tray and then once the dumpling is frozen solid, transfer it to containers or bags, or whatever. It'll be ok in the fridge too, but only for like, a day. Or just cook it fresh. You can pan fry it, but I prefer steamed mandu - the bamboo multi-layer steamers are great. Just lay some parchment down over the bamboo slats, line up your mandu so that they have a little breathing room, and cook until the filling is all the way done, depending on the size and the frozen/fresh state of your mandu, anywhere from 7 to 15 minutes. We use a little soy sauce and vinegar, diluted slightly with water for a dipping sauce.