Our Story
Why a dumpling shop called Andiamo
Ma learned to fold from her grandmother in Qingdao. Forty years and one ocean later, she was folding the same dumplings in a Green Ridge kitchen for anybody who happened to stop by on a Sunday. For years people told her she should open a place.
So we did. This September we take the keys to a narrow storefront at 414 Spruce St — eleven tables, an open kitchen, and one very loud radiator we have been warned about. Every dumpling will still be folded by hand, and we will still close on Mondays, because everyone needs a day off.
The name is our neighbor Sal's fault. For six years he ended every conversation about the idea the same way — andiamo, let's go, enough talking. This is a Scranton town as much as it is Ma's kitchen, so the sign says Andiamo and the steamers say Qingdao.
Dough at 5:45am
Flour and water, rested an hour, rolled thin enough to see the filling through.
Filling by taste
No scale for the ginger. Ma pinches, fries a spoonful, tastes, adjusts.
Eighteen pleats
That is the number she learned in Qingdao, and the number we still count to.
