So, yes, I abandoned this Web estate for several months. Why? Well, in honesty, because I lost focus and understanding of why I started this blog. And, truthfully, I was burned out with work, uninspired, and simply searching. I took a vacation. I'm back and always searching—rediscovering?—but energized and, frankly, hungry.
I was combing through my saved entries, started but never finished. I came upon this one, which I began in spring of 2009. (Yes, spring of 2009.) Perhaps it will inspire your own gastro-journey to Chinatown.
Please return for fresh commentary. I invite you again to the table.
Vanessa's Dumpling House
New York City
Cravings at times catch me off-guard. Usually, pizza's a given, Indian, eggs—chocolate, duh. But my dumpling craving, it seems, I reserve for New York. (When you're home, you crave the stuff of home.) New York City does dumplings, those meaty (even when they're meatless), flavorful, tender pillows of heaven—fried, steamed, boiled—presented preciously in bamboo baskets or haphazardly on plastic, and served with briny soy and five-alarm Sriracha. When I was in New York a few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of introduction to Vanessa's Dumplings in the heart of Chinatown. Loud, small, crowded, and completely addictive. The energy of the place and the incomparable cuisine come from a hive of white-capped Chinese women, abuzz behind the joint's long counter, furiously molding, frying, boiling, yelling, scribbling, and laughing. You can't help but stand in awe of their yin and yang: part chaos, part brilliance—and wholly delicious.
