Not-meat balls

Of course, it’s not just meat that gets rolled into balls in this kitchen. Another thing I was to learn very shortly after meeting Edward was to prove of vital importance. It was explained to me that, for genetic reasons, his body was unable to survive winter without a regular intake of matzo balls. Naturally, his mother makes them better than anyone else, but will be only too happy to share her secrets for perfection every time. So, no pressure, then. Fortunately, making floaty matzo balls (and without floatability you are sunk) isn’t that hard, and I very quickly got the hang of it. Moreover, I have even grown to enjoy eating them.

I tried to introduce another member of the dumpling family to the repertoire following a number of weeks spent working in Prague in the early 90’s. On a limited budget, I often ate in little cafes frequented by students and office workers, where undoubtedly the best dish of the day was Goulash with Dumplings (mainly because everything else involved unidentifiable bits of pig). Czech dumplings can best be described as thick slices of boiled bread, but that is to make them sound most unappealing. In reality they are quite light (usually!), and the perfect way to mop up a thick, tasty goulash sauce. Washed down with a glass or two of robust red plonk, there is no better preparation for a stroll back to the hotel through the fairytale heart of the city, with icicles forming on your nose and eyelashes. Sadly, my experiments with Czech instant dumpling mix were not successful, although I can’t claim to have followed the instructions. (My Czech extends no further than “Good Morning”, “Thank you”, and “Two beers please”.)

For many years, then, our goulash had to make do with matzo balls for company, but the dumpling idea was still bobbing about in the murky soup that is my mind. Finally, I bought a packet of shredded suet and set about canvassing opinion. I should have known better than to expect an enthusiastic reception. You’d have thought I’d suggested hard tack and thin gruel, rather than one of the great traditions of English home cooking. In the end, as usual, I took an executive decision. My culinary experiments usually get eaten, for two reasons. Firstly, it’s that or nothing, and secondly nobody wants to be around when I’m sulking.

So it was, then, that the meatballs (well of course, what did you expect?) in last week’s goulash were chaperoned by their larger, fluffier, paler cousins: The Suet Dumplings. Cue fanfare.

All Shapes and Sizes

The Other Half surveyed the pot with undisguised scepticism, but said nothing while I loaded up his plate. Finally, “Big, aren’t they?” he offered. I didn’t know what to say to that. I took a bite of dumpling myself. Mm, not heavy, properly cooked at least, perhaps a little sticky. By the time I had processed these thoughts, the boss was on his second: he likes them. In fact, it was better than that – he declared them to be “luxurious”. Wow! There were no leftovers. Emboldened by this success, I think I might look up a proper recipe for the Bohemian variety and give those a go too – I’m obviously on a roll…