I am a wistful chef. I can’t cook much of anything despite reading cooking magazines, owning cookbooks, and worshipping various highstrung Manhattan chefs. I can roast a chicken. Toss a salad. Scramble eggs. More difficult tasks have a way of disappointing.
I’ve been wanting to try Chinese cooking for years. I bought some dumpling wrappers four years ago, put them in the freezer, and never had the nerve to attempt them.
But my son has taken up the quest of food and cooking. Or rather sitting on the kitchen counter beaming while I cook what he wants. He put in his request for wonton soup made at home and my stomach clenched with dread.
This morning I made the chicken broth from scratch, trudged over to Forest Hill’s only high-end grocery market and finally found some wontop wrappers in the freezer section. I also bought the sesame oil, the spinach and scallions, the ginger and garlic. I searched epicurious and found a recipe but it just had all the earmarks of disaster.
On a hunch, I tried youtube and found a blurry, amateurish four-minute video hosted by an extremely patient and supportive moustachioed Chinese gentleman on how to make wonton soup. I watched it twice. Alex watched it once.
I followed what he said to the very letter….and we are celebrating my greatest culinary triumph. Even Nora, world’s pickiest eater, digs it.
I can do it!!! I can make wonton soup from scratch!!
