steamed happiness

On dark, rainy weekends during my winters in Lyon, the sound of my steamer filled the house with warmth. There’s something magical about steaming food—it’s like happiness trapped in a cloud. Or, well, my dinner. Same thing, really.

Using a steamer for the first time was an adventure. At first, I’d stupidly stick my face too close when opening it—cue fogged-up glasses and near third-degree burns. After that, I became hesitant, scared that my precious creation wouldn’t be cooked through, and that my impatience would ruin it (ever read a baking manual about opening the oven too soon?). But determination pays off. And honestly, I consider it both my best and worst trait.

Because after countless tries, burns, and a few choice swear words, turning simple flour into a bite-sized dumpling of happiness was pure joy.

That’s how I fell into the world of Chinese dumplings—different shapes, different fillings—and I started experimenting with vegan versions. The most famous are probably jiaozi, traditionally filled with minced pork. But let me tell you, swap that for smoked tofu and a generous dose of ginger, and they’re still chef’s kiss delicious. I never would have bet on the ginger-leek combo, and I would have been so wrong.

Then I discovered the world of fluffy, steamed buns. One afternoon, I got obsessed with making them—there was no escape. A thousand searches later, I found what I was looking for: baozi. I never thought I’d eat something with the texture of clouds. For the filling? I played it safe and used my go-to jiaozi mix. It was good, but I knew I could do better.

That’s when I stumbled upon koah-pao—these little folded dumplings that looked so delicate. Naturally, I went all in: pan-glazed tempeh (soy sauce + maple syrup) with a crunchy slaw of purple cabbage, apples, carrots, onions, and a tangy yogurt-mustard dressing.

And now, the real tragedy? I don’t have any in front of me to eat right now.