Egg Roll Noodle Bowl

Charlie brought David to Memphis for a weekend visit, and he came with a promise and a suitcase: the promise was dumplings for Mama, and the suitcase was full of the ingredients he'd brought from Nashville because, he said, "I can't make my grandmother's dumplings with Memphis groceries." I respected this immensely, because a man who travels with his own ingredients is a man who takes cooking seriously, and taking cooking seriously is the first step toward taking everything else seriously.

Saturday morning David took over our kitchen. Rosetta and I sat at the table and watched — which is unusual, because we don't sit at our own table while someone else cooks, but David had the authority of a man in his element, and his element was dough and filling and the ancient art of folding meat into pockets of flour and water. The dumplings were pork and cabbage, hand-folded, each one pinched shut with a pleated seal that looked like a tiny piece of origami. He made forty in an hour, his hands moving with the same muscle memory I recognize from my own hands at the smoker — the hands know what to do because they've done it a thousand times.

We drove to Whitehaven. David walked into Mama's room carrying a container of steaming dumplings, and Mama looked at him and said, "The dumpling boy." He said, "Yes, ma'am. As promised." He set the container on her table and opened it, and the steam rose and Mama smelled it and closed her eyes, and the closing of eyes is the highest compliment — higher than words, higher than seconds, higher than Harold Foster's eye-closing over my turkey. Mama ate three dumplings and said, "These are not BBQ." David said, "No, ma'am." She said, "But they're honest." From Pearlie Mae Johnson, "honest" is the Nobel Prize of food compliments, and David Chen from San Francisco had just won it.

I’ve been thinking about David’s dumplings ever since that Saturday, about what it means to carry your grandmother’s hands with you across state lines. I can’t fold forty dumplings with that kind of muscle memory — not yet — but this egg roll noodle bowl gets me to the same honest place: pork, cabbage, a little ginger, and the kind of straightforward flavor Mama would recognize as real. When you can’t do the origami, you can still honor the spirit of it.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 lb ground pork
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
1/2 head green cabbage, thinly shredded (about 4 cups)
1 cup shredded carrots
3 green onions, sliced
3 tablespoons soy sauce
1 tablespoon sesame oil
1 tablespoon rice vinegar
1 teaspoon sriracha (optional)
8 oz ramen or lo mein noodles, cooked and drained
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
Salt and pepper to taste
Sesame seeds and additional green onions for garnish

Instructions

Cook the noodles. Prepare ramen or lo mein noodles according to package directions. Drain and set aside.
Brown the pork. Heat vegetable oil in a large skillet or wok over medium-high heat. Add ground pork, breaking it apart, and cook until browned and cooked through, about 6–8 minutes. Drain excess fat if needed.
Add aromatics. Push pork to one side of the pan. Add garlic and ginger to the cleared space and cook for 30 seconds until fragrant, then stir into the pork.
Cook the vegetables. Add the shredded cabbage and carrots to the skillet. Toss everything together and cook for 4–5 minutes, stirring frequently, until the cabbage is just tender but still has a little bite.
Make the sauce. In a small bowl, whisk together soy sauce, sesame oil, rice vinegar, and sriracha if using. Pour over the pork and vegetable mixture and stir to combine.
Combine with noodles. Add the cooked noodles to the skillet. Toss everything together over medium heat for 1–2 minutes until the noodles are coated and heated through. Taste and adjust seasoning with salt and pepper.
Garnish and serve. Divide into bowls and top with sliced green onions and sesame seeds. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Egg Roll Noodle Bowl — When David Chen Brought His Grandmother’s Kitchen to Memphis