The wide world of wonton
Though I have no cultural or ethnic relationship with it, the more I think, I slowly begin to realize my favorite soup is the brothy, sparse wonton soup.
There is little going on in wonton soup. Perhaps a green onion or a mushroom or a carrot swimming around in the dark liquid or the crumb of rapid-fire seasoning, but little else. Except for the balls themselves.
Wonton soup is about the wontons — the packaged pillows of savory that avoid the spoon and make you work to get ahold of them. When you get one into your mouth, you realize what you’ve really got in the bowl in front of you. A delightful little appetizer disguised as a starter, a wrapped-up pile of meat and veggies and unknown seasonings that spent some time bathing in the juice it lives in until you got to it.
Many dishes inspired by Asian cuisine feature some variety of meat pocket. The wonton, though, with the thinnest outer shell and most bang for your buck, is the best. The square wrapper is made of only flour, egg, water and salt yet dissolves perfectly into your mouth to prep your palette for its innards. It invites you inside.
Though the recipe is limited and there are few ingredients, wonton soup also begs for creativity on the part of the slurper. Add what you’d like — hot pepper sauce, maybe a little more salt, or some other assortment of Asian add-ons. A quick search shows the most common variety is made with shrimp and minced pork, occasionally peppered with red vinegar or dried flounder for that indescribable taste that you’ll learn to love.
Then stab your spoon into the quiet waters of wonton and find the magic meat globe that will transport your tongue onward.
