Haolun Hu heated up a wok inside the busy kitchen of Chinese restaurant Ugly Dumpling, which opened this past September at 2335 Dixwell Ave.
He was standing at the head chef position. On one side were metal baskets of ingredients; on the other, a rack of sauces. He swirled garlic and oil, the aromatic beginnings of a Mongolian beef dish.
Hu, who is 34, was raised in restaurants. He grew up in China, where his dad was a chef and his mom was a server. Together, they created a foodie who can cook a Chinese meal without thinking twice.
“If someone asks me to make a steak,” Hu said, he might have to think a bit about how to do it right. But the cuisine he makes at Ugly Dumpling? On that, he’s “100 percent,” he said.
As the vegetables in the wok yielded to the heat, Hu reached his ladle into the library of dark sauces, finding the one he needed right away. It was a mix of soy sauces, chili oil, chili crisp, and Worcestershire sauce. He added the sauce to the wok, and the pyrotechnics began. He whisked quickly with his ladle as flames rose high around the wok’s edges.
On summer nights at Hu’s dad’s small restaurant, he recalled, customers would sit outside on the street and enjoy barbecue skewers. He showed me how his dad would spread the sauce over the meat – “ch, ch, ch” with a loose, wide reach.
In the kitchen, Hu added peppers and onions to the wok. He used both hands in one fluid motion, tossing the vegetables with the flick of a wrist and moving them forward with a ladle in the other hand. Gravity was his accomplice, drawing translucent bits of onion to the perfect spot for the next push of the ladle.
“There’s no big things,” Hu said. “Only small details.”
Six years ago, Hu was an international student in Australia, working when he wasn’t studying. “Daytime school, nighttime work,” as he put it. He cooked at a hotel restaurant that served Italian and French cuisine.
A couple years later, Hu came to the United States. He and his mother now live in Wallingford. He told me she encourages him to challenge himself, prodding him to read books and learn new languages.
Seems like the language skills are working. When I told Hu I was Korean, he immediately greeted me in Korean.
Later, when Hu was trying to describe his dad’s retired life in China, he paused, settling on, “He’s kind of like, ahjussi,” using a Korean word he knew would explain everything. Then he said it again in English for good measure. “He’s like everyone’s friend, or father.”
When Ugly Dumpling opened last September, Hu was a line cook. He made his way to head chef three months ago, which came with new responsibilities. On top of operating the wok and fryer, he had to order groceries like pork, chicken, and oil. He told me the beef in the dish he was making came from Australia.
Hu leaned to the left and picked up one handle from a line of metal baskets. The one he selected held cuts of that Australian beef. Oil glistened in the pan. He added the beef to the vegetables and sautéed them in the deepening blend of flavor.
Ugly Dumpling is a small franchise, with locations in New Jersey and the Bronx. The Hamden location serves as its first foray into Connecticut. The restaurant prides itself on its variety of Asian dishes like the Mongolian beef Hu was making.
Front and center are the dumplings. In Chinese culture, Hu said, dumplings are “not just food.” They represent family unity and prosperity, and they can give you luck throughout the entire year.
It came as no surprise that my favorite items on my visit there were the dumplings. Soup dumplings with accent flavors like truffle and crab, steamed barbecue pork dumplings with a satisfying thickness, savory fried chicken dumplings. I stared down each lucky pocket before letting it meet its scrumptious fate.
Almost as soon as he began his Mongolian beef journey, Hu was ready to plate. He transferred the beef and veggies in expert movements, taking care to let the food fall nicely, unhurried, before letting his ladle zoom back to the wok for the next scoop.
“Food is the language that all people can feel,” Hu said.
