Excuse me, what’s the name of your dumpling?
What do we lose when we colloquially call Dim Sum, dumplings?
At times, it feels like keying in the first word on Wordle. How your brain would momentarily paralyse for a second or so, when that same old five letters never fail to get you started and ultimately, maintain your Max Streak, is now nothing but a piece of grey. Except, I am not playing any game; I am ordering food.
When my index finger points to the “pork dumplings” printed on the Dim Sum page of the menu and expresses my wish to eat it, I envision Siu Mai, or grounded pork, shrimp and Chinese black mushroom filing enfolded in yellow skin and not Japanese gyoza. However, since Siu Mai and gyoza are both comfortably known as “pork dumplings” on English menus, this means I may not get to enjoy the food I had in mind.
Unlike Wordle it’s unappetizing, if not, abdominally upsetting having to guess what I will be served after making an order and accepting something I don’t intend to eat. In Cantonese culture, every Dim Sum item is uniquely named. Har Gow refers to shrimp-based filling wrapped in white translucent skin. Meng Har Gok is a kind of prawn fritter eaten with mayonnaise sauce.
Unfortunately, perhaps for better understanding, dumpling is colloquially used in English menus to describe many of the Dim Sum items. Har Gow is called the steamed prawn dumpling and Meng Har Gok is deep-fried prawn dumpling. For those who do not know, they may think Meng Har Gok is the crispy version of Har Gow but for someone with East Asia (Cantonese to be exact) upbringing, this is inaccurate. Har Gow is probably the only Dim Sum in bonnet shape and it’s more challenging to prepare.
To my surprise, this “mismatch” repeatedly takes place in my life, and it could be anywhere, from my husband’s northern Italian hometown to London’s Canary Wharf and restaurants frequented by English-speaking patrons in parts of Asia. I once expressed the dissonance — how bad translation lost the real meaning of Dim Sum — to my friends. The advice I got was to clarify with the restaurants and ask for a change of food if needed.
There’s nothing wrong as you could jolly well be served the wrong food to begin with, I was told. Yes true, but I don’t want to appear fussy especially when I am not dining alone. Or worse, needing to wait another 10–15 minutes for what I had in mind to be offered, while others finish their food and in turn, wait for me.
*You may wish to read the rest of the article on Page 43 of Potluck Zine Issue 6: Authenticity, first published in March 2022.
