I love dumplings. I don’t know many people who don’t like dumplings – that’s only because I don’t have time for people like that in my life and can’t be bothered to befriend them. I will go where the dumplings are; near or far, if there are delicious bundles of meat wrapped in flour dough and served with sauce, you’ll probably find me there, pulling out a seat for you. I’m a dumpling gypsy – not a gypsy dumpling; I can only imagine those things being made with lots of yak cheese and questionable meat. So roaming the city and following my nose for my next dumpling haunt, you can imagine how surprised I was when my nose led me into a repurposed sports bar in a neighbourhood known for Indian restaurants.