Roommate H. grew up in China, eating Chinese food. Her parents did not know how to cook Chinese food. She did not know how to cook Chinese food. But when she moved to the States for college, she somehow figured out how to create familiar dishes, experimenting until she reached the tastes her mouth knew so well.
Now I find her funny bottles with Chinese writing in my fridge and watch her simple yet fresh Asian concoctions come to life. Our house Chinese food night we had talked about for months came to life at last when H. picked up dumpling pastry from an international market and mixed up two kinds of filling: egg+spinach and pork+fennel.
Then we all sat around as she taught us to fill the insides of the dough circles and then rub water on the rim before we folded it together like a hand pie and crimped the edges, over and over again. 
And then guess what we cooked the pot stickers (a.k.a. Jiaozi) in?
To finish it off, she mixed soy sauce+rice wine vinegar for dipping, plus we had a side of Smashed Cucumber.
The pie traveled to a
