Homemade Wonton Soup!

Let’s be real: We’ve all had those nights where we’ve stared into the abyss of a sad takeout container, wondering why our $12 wonton soup tastes like salty dishwater. Spoiler: The magic’s in the homemade broth and those pillowy, juicy dumplings you fold yourself. Yeah, it’s work—but the kind that feels like therapy (and tastes like a hug). Here’s how to make it happen without losing your mind.

Why Bother Making Wontons From Scratch?

You control the filling. No mystery meat here. (Looking at you, sketchy takeout spot.)

Broth that doesn’t taste like regret. Simmer it with garlic, ginger, and green onions—no MSG headaches.

Freezer gold. Make 100 dumplings on a Sunday, eat like a dumpling king/queen all month.

Ingredients (Or: Raid Your Fridge)

(Feeds 4 hungry humans or 1 very determined soup enthusiast)

For the Wontons:

½ lb ground pork (or chicken, turkey, whatever’s on sale)

½ lb shrimp (peeled, chopped—or skip if you’re allergic to effort)

2 green onions, minced (scissors > knives, fight me)

1 tbsp grated ginger (jarred is fine, we’re not on MasterChef)

1 tbsp soy sauce (or coconut aminos if you’re fancy)

1 tsp sesame oil (don’t skip—this is the flavor fairy)

1 egg white (optional, but makes the filling stick together)

1 pack wonton wrappers (found in the fridge aisle, not the freezer—trust me)

For the Broth:

6 cups chicken broth (boxed is cool, but toss in a bouillon cube for oomph)

3 garlic cloves, smashed (no need to peel—lazy wins)

2-inch ginger chunk, sliced (skin on—who’s got time to peel?)

2 green onions, hacked into chunks (the ugly ends you’d normally trash)

To Garnish Like a Pro:

More green onions (because aesthetics)

Cilantro (if you’re one of those people)

Chili crisp (aka liquid courage)

Step-by-Step (Without the Panic)

1. Make the Filling—It’s Not Rocket Science

Dump everything (pork, shrimp, onions, ginger, soy sauce, sesame oil, egg white) into a bowl. Mix with your hands like you’re kneading stress out of your soul. Pro tip: Throw a tiny spoonful into the microwave for 10 seconds to taste-test. Adjust salt/ginger as needed.

2. Fold the Dang Wontons

Lay a wrapper on your palm. Spoon 1 tsp of filling in the center. DO NOT OVERSTUFF. (Learn from my dumpling explosion of 2019.)

Wet the edges with water (finger, brush, tears of frustration—all work).

Fold into a triangle, press out air bubbles, then pinch the corners together into a little hat. Or just seal it—they taste the same even if they look like crumpled napkins.

3. Broth: The Lazy Simmer

Throw broth, garlic, ginger, and green onion scraps into a pot. Let it bubble gently for 15 minutes while you fold wontons. Strain out the chunks (or leave ‘em—live dangerously).

4. Cook the Wontons Without Disaster

Boil water in a big pot. Drop in dumplings in batches (don’t crowd them—they need personal space).

When they float (3-4 mins), they’re done. Fish them out with a slotted spoon.

5. Assemble Your Masterpiece

Plop wontons into bowls, ladle broth over them, and shower with green onions. Douse in chili crisp if you’re feeling spicy.

Tips from My Wonton Wins (and Fails)

Freeze like a boss: Spread uncooked wontons on a baking sheet, freeze solid, then toss into a bag. Boil straight from frozen—just add 1 extra minute.

Broth too bland? Splash in fish sauce or a squeeze of lime. Taste as you go—you’re the boss here.

Wrappers drying out? Cover them with a damp paper towel. Stiff wrappers crack, and nobody wants leaky dumplings.

Ways to Mix It Up

Vegetarian hack: Swap meat for mashed tofu, shredded cabbage, and mushrooms.

Shortcut filling: Use ground chicken + a spoonful of store-bought Thai curry paste.

Breakfast wontons: Fill with scrambled eggs, cheese, and bacon bits. (You’re welcome.)

FAQ (Because I’ve Heard It All)

“Can I use store-bought broth?”

Yes, but add a knob of ginger and a garlic clove while heating it. Game-changer.

“Help—my wontons exploded!”

You overfilled them. It’s fine. Call it “deconstructed wonton soup” and pretend it’s trendy.

“How long does this take??”

Folding 40 dumplings: 20 mins if you’re slow. Broth: 15 mins. Worth every second.

Why This Beats Takeout Every Time

Homemade wonton soup isn’t just food—it’s a mood. It’s the smug satisfaction of biting into a dumpling you made. It’s the broth that tastes clean, not like a salt bomb. And it’s the joy of freezing a dozen portions for future you, who’s too tired to adult.

So tie on an apron, crank up a podcast, and fold those dumplings like you’re meditating. Your taste buds (and inner grandma) will thank you.