It’s always great to get a write up in any paper or magazine. It’s amazing when New York Times food section features you. The Anton’s Dumplings team could not be any more proud to receive this nod from the NYT folk. Check out what they had to say below:
On icy nights this winter, bare-chested men could sometimes be spied clustered by Anton’s Dumplings, a food cart on the corner of West Third Street and Avenue of the Americas. The 26-year-old chef, Anton Yelyashkevich, had promised free dumplings to anyone who dared eat them shirtless, in the style of Vladimir Putin commandeering a horse across Siberia.
Mr. Yelyashkevich was born in Minsk, Belarus, and moved to Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, at age 6. He studied graphic design at art school and has turned his cart into a Constructivist arrangement of rectangles, with the white, red and black color scheme of a Soviet propaganda poster. (The cart is, in a way, revolutionary: Engineered by MOVE Systems, it runs on solar power and compressed natural gas.)
His dumplings are small but robust, and liberally spilled into their paper trays. I counted around a dozen in each of my $5 orders. (You get twice as many for $9.) They are made by hand, albeit not by Mr. Yelyashkevich himself; he tinkered with a recipe for five years, then gave it to what he calls “one of the top-tier dumpling factories in Brooklyn.”
He preferred not to reveal the name. “They’re all really secretive and cutthroat,” he said.
A point of pride in Russian pelmeni is the delicacy of the skins, which here are thin without sacrificing sturdiness, strong enough to survive a bout in boiling water and a quick press and scrape over the cart’s flattop grill. Inside may be a meld of ground beef and pork with a tease of onion, called Siberian after pelmeni’s first makers, peasants and hunters who buried their dumplings in snowbanks and then cooked them in melted snow.
Other fillings are no lesser: chicken with the juices raving; an airy mash of potato seemingly unshackled by gravity. All do well topped simply and classically with snips of dill and chives and sour cream in rough cursive. More unorthodox accents are available, including soy sauce and sriracha squeezed straight from the bottle.
Best may be a smoked Gouda fondue with a trigger of black pepper, which, when spooned over potato dumplings, suggests some strange nexus of nachos and gnocchi.
Pickles, also from an undisclosed location in Brooklyn, are free with every order. They have crunch, if not quite enough tang.
Mr. Yelyashkevich’s toughest critics are Russians, who, he said, sometimes just stand in front of his cart and stare. “Every grandma has her own recipe,” he said. “They say, ‘You’re some 20-year-old, what do you know about dumplings?’”
For the full article, visit the New York Times feature on Anton’s Dumplings.