Martin Yan Says Dumplings Are Universal

There are few foods that bring me as much joy as dumplings. They’re the first dish I learned to make as a kid and always the first to disappear at a party — the moment I put out a platter, guests come swarming and eat every last one. In my house, we have a saying: “There is no such thing as too many dumplings.”

Chef Martin Yan shares my affection for dumplings. Since the launch of his show Yan Can Cook in 1978, he’s been teaching audiences across the world how to make them, along with other Chinese classics. Yan inspired cooks who had never seen Asian ingredients before, as well as those of us who’d grown up with soy sauce and ginger in the pantry but never seen an Asian chef on TV. It’s impossible to know how many Chinese American households have a copy of the Yan Can Cook cookbook on the shelf, but mine certainly does.

Yan recalls that when Food & Wine first published his recipe for Wontons with Hot and Sour Sauce in 2007, many people were still hesitant to make dumplings at home. The shrimp-and-pork-filled wontons were a way for Yan to show people that dumplings come in many different forms and don’t have to be difficult to make. “Dumplings are universal. Every cuisine across the world has a dumpling, but the Chinese fillings are the most adventurous,” he says.

Chinese dumplings differ depending on where in China they come from, Yan says, and his Wontons with Hot and Sour Sauce deliberately blend the flavors and methods of two distinct regions of China — the North and the South. “In northern China, there’s no egg in the dough or shrimp [in the filling]; they use ground beef. The wontons can be boiled, deep-fried, or poached and served with Szechuan chile sauce,” he says. “In southern China, they’re filled with seafood, pork, and chives, with cilantro and ginger [in the sauce] to give it a kick instead of Szechuan peppercorns. Or you can serve them Hong Kong–style, in soup,” he says — which is how both Yan and I grew up eating dumplings.

For Yan, the symbolism of combining ingredients from the North and the South is intentional. It might not be traditional — but, he says, that doesn’t mean it’s not authentic. “Look at the history of ingredients. Many of the ingredients commonly seen in Chinese food are not indigenous to China,” says Yan. “Chiles, peppers, tomatoes, and eggplant all came from other countries. What makes Chinese food authentic is how you prepare the dish. We always cut up the meat into bite-size pieces and marinate it; we cook with a wok with a high temperature for a short time. If you do all of this, whatever new thing you add, you’re being creative, not inauthentic.”

Over his long career, Yan has seen Asian cuisines gain ground in America. “When I first started my show in the 1970s, you could only find a few Asian ingredients in the supermarket: wrappers for wontons and egg rolls, bean sprouts, and soy sauce,” he says. “Now, you can find so many spices and ingredients in mainstream stores that you could previously find only in Asian markets.”

Yan has also seen Chinese ingredients such as MSG unfairly disparaged and has experienced firsthand the perception that Chinese food is greasy and inelegant. But none of that has stopped him in his mission to educate and feed the American people. And at age 76, he has no plans to stop. “I’m the busiest I’ve ever been,” he says. “I was just in Australia cooking at the U.S. Embassy for 20 days. I’m active on social media. I do virtual cooking demos for seniors. And I’ve published two books in the last eight months — my 36th and 37th books.”

At home, his routine is simple: Work in the garden, walk the dog, do push-ups, and eat more vegetables than meat. “I don’t overindulge. Look at wontons. There’s only a little bit of meat but lots of seasoning. Cilantro, green onions, garlic, and ginger — I grow them all!”

Finding the thread between the new and the old, the classic and the creative, is Yan’s specialty, and these wontons are just another example of how Yan continues to be modern and on the forefront of Chinese food.

As our conversation draws to a close, he tells me, “Let me know when you come to California. We’ll go to dim sum!” To me, there’s no bigger honor than to have the chef whose recipes taught you how to make Chinese food invite you to eat dumplings with him.