Dumpling Munch
A study in five wrappers.

From a promise at home.

Dumpling Munch began with a promise I made at home: that my three children would eat well — even the one who wouldn't touch meat, and the one who pushed every green thing to the edge of the plate. A good dumpling has a lovely way of solving that problem. Wheat, meat and vegetables are tucked into one little parcel, with nothing to pick out and nothing to negotiate. Add a spoonful of our homemade chilli oil and, in our house at least, the discussion is over.

Dumpling-making is part of my inheritance. I grew up in Hulunbeier, in China's far north, where wheat is the staple and every dumpling is sealed between thumb and forefinger, never by a machine. Years later, when friends tasted mine at playdates and parties — and kept asking for more — I knew exactly what a proper dumpling needed: a delicate wrapper, a generous filling and time.

Today, we rise early to hand-fold five flavours in our commercial kitchen in Guildford, just as I was taught. Four of our wrappers take their colour from vegetables alone; the fifth is simply wheat. Seventeen square metres is all the space we need. We use no preservatives, no stabilisers and nothing you wouldn't expect to find in an honest home kitchen.

My children are still our first and most honest tasters — and we're delighted to share the dumplings they love with your family.