Bring on the Dumplings
My grandfather always said, “You can’t say that you don’t like a restaurant until you know what to order.” I never truly believed this, however, until a recent visit to the infamous Dumpling Café. I never liked the restaurant. I felt as if it was overrated, too popular, and traditional American-Chinese.
My first time at the restaurant consisted of typical American-Chinese food: Grease, over-sweetened chicken, and semi-cooked rice. The General Tso’s that we had ordered tasted like fried gelatin. The dumplings tasted like mysterious fried concoctions of dough. The restaurant, itself, smelled fishy — and not because of the aquarium tanks. I was used to that. The servers were incredibly rude, and it took five of us to get their attention. Unlike the reviews that I had read on popular news sources like the Boston Globe and Boston Magazine, the food here was no better than a one-star Chinese restaurant.
So that’s why, when a friend asked me to go for Chinese New Year, I was wary. I hadn’t been in three years, and the last visit wasn’t too memorable. Did I really want to spend my New Year celebrating in a place with one-step-above Chinese takeout? Chinese New Year is, after all, a celebration full of feasting. I wasn’t sure if this was a night for re-experimenting. After some persuasion, however, I decided to check it out. Give it another chance.
The restaurant, itself, is located on Washington Street, and is recognizable by a triangular orange and yellow window covering. Complete with off-white walls and dark brown accents, the dining room is simple with nothing too notable. Posters and scrolls hang on the walls with Chinese scripture, leaving non-speakers curious to the secret message.
The space is what you would typically expect from a Chinese restaurant: shiny brown tables filling the floor plan by the inch, an aquarium of fish in the corner for diners to feast their eyes on (and then feast on later with chopsticks and soy sauce), and rushing servers holding large hot plates of dumplings and pots of tea.
On this night, the ambiance of the restaurant wasn’t much different from before. It was busy — which was expected for the new year — and filled with hungry visitors. After putting our name onto the list, we managed to sit after 15 minutes of waiting — not bad for the Chinese New Year crowd.
But let’s go back to what I mentioned earlier. You can’t say that you don’t like a restaurant until you know what to order. After this dinner, I can understand what my grandfather meant by this. You truly do have to give a restaurant more than one chance to ‘wow’ your taste buds. And now — with a little help from a friend — I certainly know what to order from Dumpling Café to do so.
Have you ever had a bowl of steamed flounder in Szechuan sauce brought out to you over a fire? You can here. Dumpling Café’s Szechuan Style Flounder ($15.85) came out sizzling in a gently spicy broth filled with filleted pieces of flounder (chunky style), dark burgundy-colored tien tsin peppers, and sweet onions. The fish, itself, was perfectly tender to the bite, with a quick kick in your mouth with a mixture of savory Szechuan spice. The broth followed with a similar taste, but being simmered with the tien tsin peppers, it was more robust and had a pop of sweetness towards the end.
The Mini Juicy Buns with Pork (soup dumplings for $7.95) seemed better than before. Presentation is key in this restaurant, as they come out enclosed within a bamboo steamer. Be careful — these guys come out hot, but are well worth the wait. Filled with a meat-stock broth and ginger pork, the doughy concoctions are wonderfully slurp-worthy.
The true underrated pleaser, however, was the Chinese Mushrooms over Greens ($12.85.) Without any fancy gimmicks of fire or cool containers, the simple dish came out as a pop of color to our meal. The bright green vegetable and deep rich brown mushrooms complimented each other both with sight and taste. The greens, in this case, were bok choy: a bitter green vegetable that is usually steamed until soft and crunchy. The mushrooms, themselves, were lusciously silky and glazed with a garlic sauce. The dish, over all, was rich, and put down any nay-sayers that think you can’t solely eat vegetables for dinner. I could definitely order this as a full meal when dining alone and be more than happy.
My friend and I finish our meal between sips of bitter jasmine tea and bites of the savory dishes. The restaurant never died down, even around 9 p.m., and the servers were quick and attentive. They didn’t become lazy, or forget about guests, and the steaming food that local publications rave about continued to fly out of the kitchen. Once we were finished, the servers cleared our plates away, leaving the leftovers in white waxy take-away boxes. A delicacy for another night, and a reminder to return back for more.
