My dearest, sweet, little pan-seared dumpling,
You mean so much to me. I can always count on you to be consistent in a world of diverse sushi restaurants and rolls. You are always on the menu, always there for me, and always taste perfectly delicious. While your contents or even your cooking style (and possibly oil medium) may vary, you still never cease to amaze my taste buds.
What about you is so perfect? Is it the way you manage to never fall out of the grasp of my chopsticks despite my mediocre skill with the utensil? Is it your bite-sized shape that allows me the satisfaction of stuffing my face with as many of you as I please? Or is it instead the pleasurable texture that slips and slides down my esophagus with pure ease? I believe it’s a culmination of all of these things. And above that, it’s even your imperfections that make you all the more perfect. While not every dumpling is the same, you still bring me the greatest joy with every morsel it ingest.
I shall call you “Goddess Divine,” as Mr. Darcy calls Elizabeth on special occasions because every moment spent with you is in fact a special occasion. You cheer me up on my saddest days and excite me when life gets boring. Warmth fills my belly when I’m with you, and maybe it’s literally because of your temperature and the proximity in time of leaving your hot little pan, but I’m sure it’s greater than that. It must be. I dare say this feeling is love. And I want to share and proclaim my love to you for the rest of the world to hear.
While my letter does not give all your greatness and glory the justice that it deserves, I believe that it is necessary for your pure awesomeness to be highlighted. I am obsessed with you and I cannot fathom a world without you in it. Simply put, you are the shit. And I love you most of all.
I hope this letter finds you well and I hope to see you in my food pallet for the rest of my mortal life and beyond.
An Individual Who Believes Gyoza Is Their Soulmate