Dill Dumplings: A Letter to Grandpa

On this beautiful day, we went for a hike around Pacifica, where my aunt pointed out a treasure that many Chinese families value: fresh dill! Although it was a bit late in the season to pick dill — the best time is around March or April — there were still plenty of fresh sprouts that we could collect for cooking, and we did just that. I was thrilled to discover that there was an abundance of dill all around us. If my aunt hadn't pointed it out, I would have completely missed the vast bushes of dill we walked past. Unlike the dark green dill we typically buy from the grocery store, the wild dill we found was lighter in color but had the same wonderful fragrance and taste. We picked a small bundle of dill sprouts, and as a food enthusiast, I quickly lost interest in the rest of the hike. I couldn't wait to get home and start making dill dumplings with my uncle and aunt.

A Letter to Grandpa

Savoring my favorite dill dumplings also led me down memory lane. I think of my late grandpa, who was the orchestrator, the heart and soul of our home kitchen. Whenever dumplings were on the menu, we always made them with dill — it was unapologetic and non-negotiable. Grandpa's dill dumplings were the juiciest I've ever tasted. He preferred using freshly butchered fatty pork from the market, which made a huge difference compared to the lean ground pork we get here. The stuffing was well-seasoned with dark soy sauce and most definitely the majestic MSG. Grandpa forbade anyone from interfering with his stuffing-blending process. It's too sacred that we couldn't afford any mistake. While I enjoy making dumplings at home now, nothing compares to grandpa's version. Beyond the incredible flavor, those dumplings also remind me of the joy and togetherness we shared as a family.

In many Chinese households, dumplings were a staple during large family gatherings, such as Chinese New Year. During these occasions, every family member participated in the making process, including the little ones. While the adults chatted and gossiped, as a little kid, one of my earliest memories was sitting beside my grandpa pretending to make dumplings. He would give me a piece of dough to knead, which I treated like playdough, joyfully rolling it into different shapes.

Once the dumplings were cooked, we all gathered around the dining table to enjoy the fruit of our labor. I loved those dumplings! Let me tell you. I would mentally tune out all the conversations to focus on the taste. Grandpa, on the other hand, never ate the food he made. It took me many years to figure out that my grandpa had a serious addiction to alcohol. He would sip on Baijiu, which has a very high alcohol content, while watching everyone eat. As his favorite grandchild, I got to sit beside him as he fed me continuously. It was a privilege and a curse. Because by the time I devoured the 10th dumpling, grandpa would announce to the whole family, "Jing Jing ate 10 dumplings!!!" For a three-year-old, that's a lot of food!! Thankfully, my sense of shame developed later; I probably wouldn't have cared and would have kept going. Oh, those delicious dill dumplings!

I shared my memories of Grandpa with my uncle and aunt, who are on my father's side, while Grandpa is from my mother's side. I felt grateful for the wonderful day of hiking that ended with the discovery of wild dill. This discovery led to a delicious meal that brought back fond memories of my dear Grandpa. It always warms my heart to hear Grandpa's firm voice and laughter echoing in my mind once again.