I don’t like the term “pot stickers.” It sounds like a parasitic little Chinese bug. But I don’t think you can legally call them dumplings once they’re fried, unfortunately. Steamed = Dumpling, Fried = Pot Sticker. (THESE are dumplings. Soup dumplings people. Dumpling, full of soup. Yes. I advise that you
NEVER eat them, because you will get addicted and be very, very depressed when you realize you live hundreds upon hundreds of miles from a proper dumpling house. Unless of course, you’re lucky enough to not live in the backwoods, then by all means, gorge on them. In a dark dark time of intense craving I considered making them, but just looking at a recipe for soup dumplings will make you cry.) Anyway. I made the fried variety. Momma made some really good pulled pork (in our new lake crock pot!) this weekend, but we were out of rolls last night, so pot stickers seemed the best course of action. I’ve seen the little dumpling wrappers at the store and I’ve been desperate to use them, so I was overjoyed to have finally found an opportunity. I was torn as to whether to try and go Asian with the filling, or just let it be its very American self. Unable to come up with anything that could possibly turn salty, sweet, barbeque-y pork into something vaguely oriental, I just let it be its porky self. A little dab of dijon mustard, a mini mound of pork, and a few tiny radish slices. (Side note: I love me some radishes man! They’re so strange and so good. I like the snappy texture and feisty flavor–they way they have that spicy sharp little after-bite. Mmm.) It was a little trickier than I thought to get the little guys to stick together, they kept popping open. Key is only wetting one side of the wrapper, and not using too much filling. Then a quick fry on a hot pan. Dipped in more mustard, crispy, hot, sweet, good. Eaten whilst watching season 3 of Mad Men. Good all round.
Pulled pork pot stickers, why wouldn’t cha?
You know how sometimes your camera goes haywire and it turns out strange and kind of nice? Or maybe that’s because my poor camera has gotten buffeted around in backpacks and been in the ocean a few too many times. Either way. (Pop’s boats stacked up in the breezeway.)
anna cotta 
Jouza or gyoza (long “o” in that second one) makes the li’l items sound as magically delicious as they are. I’ve never made them with anything but my standard pork-garlic-ginger-chili-mysterious spice mix Tom brought from China. Tom can eat them all, no matter how many I make. It kind of defies the laws of physics, and possibly nature.
Yum! Whaddya gonna make for us when we’re down there on the 29th/30th?
Mmmmm… sounds good good good. I think maybe Tom and I could have a gyoza eating competition? As an excuse to eat pounds and pounds of them?
Hm. Well. I eat a lot of yogurt and granola, I’m super good at fixing that…
I’ll have to think of something tasty! Or maybe have anna cotta and jj join in the kitchen for something marvelous!!
Them might be good with frosting.
Clearly it’s Missy’s good genes that allow Anne to cook, and do it well…
Back in the day, the few times Mom left us to our own devices Dad and I survived solely on burritos and steak.
Those were the days….