The Dumpling Duchess
Word that the owners of "Dumpling Daughter" in Weston (who knew that Weston even had restaurants?) are suing Dumpling Girl of Millbury for stealing their recipes (and concept, and just about everything) got me wondering: when I inevitably open my own dumpling joint, will I call it “Dumpling Princess” or “Dumpling Queen”?
I suppose it will depend on the age of my dumpling-loving daughter. If she’s still in her tender, preteen years when we pan-fry our first batch of my Swedish Meatball dumplings, I’ll call it “Dumpling Princess”; if I don't get around to the ribbon-cutting until she has graduated college, I’ll opt for “Dumpling Queen.”
But what if she’s, like, 16? I have a friend, now long departed for Texas, who began referring to his daughters as “aliens” once they reached their teen years, so calling my restaurant “The Dumpling Alien” might be apt. I’ll put a sign out front depicting an alien (you know the type: huge black teardrop eyes, giant head, all yellow) chowing on fried pork and leek nuggets with a pair of chopsticks. Another option: the “Dumpling Narcissist.” The sign in this case would depict a tattooed and pierced goth-gal scowling into a serene pond, jamming fat potstickers into her mouth and giving us adults the finger.
“How unfair! Those are huge generalizations about teenage girls!” Yeah yeah, I know, and I’m sorry. Not all teenage girls are narcissistic aliens with bad attitudes who wear black-and-white makeup, just like not all teenage boys are detached hoodie-wearers with bags of weed hidden in their sweatsocks. Still, wouldn't a fellow who wants to name his restaurant after a teenage boy be tempted to call it “The Dumpling Stoner”? Or maybe “The Dumpling Rebel”?
Best to have a big pile of pork-in-dough flavor bombs and ponder the possibilities.