Dumplings
It is big and fried,
fills with delicious
pork and vegetables,
the juice slowly surrounds
the whole mouth,
the taste went one
big round and
down you throat.
It is soft and crispy,
in the outer layer,
as I took the first bite,
and another,
and another,
and the dumpling is gone.
It mixed well with
vinegar as I flood
my dumpling
with a small plate of it,
a little sour,
a little bitter,
create an aftertaste,
which make me drool
and wanting more.
One by one,
they disappear without a trace,
as it fills the stomach
with great delights,
as the taste still
wandering around
in your mouth,
and then i ask myself,
should i have another feast of dumplings again?
The dumplings mentioned in this poem is actually called Guotie (锅贴) or potstickers after their crispy skin on the bottom. It is a Chinese cuisine that are laid flatly on a pan, first steamed with lid on with a thin layer of water, then fried in oil after the water has been evaporated.
Photo taken by Brenda, Edited by Me
