Why Bother Making Dim Sum At Home?
Honestly? Got tired of paying a fortune every time I craved good har gow and siu mai. Decided, screw it, I’m gonna try making it myself. How hard could it be? Spoiler: kinda messy, but totally worth it.
Started by raiding the local Asian supermarket. Grabbed whatever looked familiar:
- Flours: Wheat starch, tapioca starch – felt like I was back in chemistry class.
- Filling Stuff: Minced pork, shrimp (peeled and deveined those suckers myself – took ages), some canned bamboo shoots (water chestnuts were MIA, surprise surprise).
- Random Bits: Soy sauce, sesame oil, ginger, garlic, sugar, white pepper. Basic stuff really.
The Dough Drama (Har Gow Skin is Tricky!)
Okay, this part almost broke me. Wanted those translucent, wobbly har gow skins. Mixed wheat starch and tapioca starch, poured in boiling water like the recipe said. Stirred like mad – ended up with this lumpy, gluey mess. Almost tossed it. Said a few choice words. Added a splash more boiling water, smashed and kneaded it right in the bowl while it was still stupid hot. Surprise! It actually turned into this smooth, kinda rubbery dough ball. Covered it quick with cling film so it wouldn’t dry out like the Sahara. Phew.
The Filling Fiasco
Pretty straightforward, thankfully. Chopped up the shrimp small but left some chunks for texture. Mixed it with the minced pork. Threw in the finely chopped bamboo shoots (they taste kinda sad and metallic, honestly). Smashed some ginger and garlic to mush, squeezed out the juice over the meat – that’s the good stuff. Splash of soy sauce, bigger splash of sesame oil (love that smell), pinch of sugar, way more white pepper than you’d think. Mixed it all up like my life depended on it until it got sticky and gross looking. Stuck that in the fridge to chill out and get friendly.
Assembly Line Chaos
Rolled the dough into a sausage shape, cut off little chunks. Flattened them with my fingers – tried using a rolling pin once, bad idea, stuck like crazy. Ended up just pressing them into rough circles with my hands. Plopped a spoonful of the cold filling in the middle. Tried to fold it over like a fancy purse. Mine looked more like sad, lumpy blobs than pleated gems. Didn’t matter. Pinched the tops shut. Siu mai were easier – just made little dough cups with the wrapper, shoved in the filling, squished it slightly. Topped one with a pea, the other with a tiny gob of fish roe I found at the back of the fridge. Looked… rustic.
Steam Time & The Big Reveal
Got my bamboo steamer going – lined it with parchment paper I poked holes in (didn’t have lotus leaves, obviously). Plopped my dodgy-looking dim sum parcels in, making sure they weren’t touching each other like moody teenagers. Covered them, cranked the heat, and waited. Took about 8-10 minutes. Lifted the lid… Steam everywhere! But… they actually looked like food! The har gow skins were kinda see-through, wobbling invitingly. Siu mai smelled amazing.
Plated them up, poured myself a big cup of cheap jasmine tea. Took a bite of the har gow. Hot! But… wow. Shrimp flavour exploded, the skin had this chewy, soft texture – not gummy at all! Success! Siu mai was juicy, porky, peppery. Could taste that ginger and garlic kick. Were they the prettiest dim sum ever? Hell no. Mine looked like a toddler made them after a tantrum. But tasted like damn victory.
So What Now?
Kitchen looked like a flour bomb went off. Dough bits stuck everywhere. Used every bowl I owned. Took half my Sunday. And you know what? Gonna do it again. Saving me a fortune already. Yeah, practice makes less ugly dim sum, they say. Next time, maybe try char siu bao? Or maybe just enjoy this cheap-ass, tasty triumph for now. Leftovers are breakfast sorted too. Win.