Editor's note: In this recurring column, San Francisco writer Margot Seeto celebrates the city's vibrant Chinese restaurant culture — and beyond — with reviews of dumplings across town.
Like so many of us in the Bay Area, I am a dumpling lover. And as a third-generation Chinese American San Franciscan, I’d be remiss if I didn’t have dumpling (duuumps!) favorites, old and new, throughout the city and beyond.
I’m excited to introduce myself as SFGATE’s dumpling columnist. In this recurring column, I’ll drop a new piece that explores various types and aspects of the Bay Area’s many dumpling cultures. It’s a Bay Area-appropriate lens through which to examine our food scene — where it’s been, where it is, and where it’s going.
I’ve had a long-standing interest and stake in the food world — not only as a food writer, but also as a 15-year veteran of the food and beverage industry. I’ve also traveled to 39 other countries and lived in five of them, eating well through each one. The most qualifying credential of all may be that I have a little dumpling of my own (aka my 6-month-old). Since she looks like a little ball of dough with her plump cheeks, that counts, right?
I know it’s not just me who has a love for dumplings. Any Bay Area food lover can probably name at least five varieties of dumplings they love to eat. Is it the steamed chives dumplings from Good Mong Kok Bakery? The wagyu beef gyoza from Dumpling Time? The kimchi dumplings from the prepared food section of H Mart? The original xiao long bao (“XLB” for those who know) from Din Tai Fung? Do they long for the mushroom dumplings in dashi broth from the much-missed Namu Gaji? (Disclaimer: I used to work at the Namu Street Food stand at the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market. Hi, guys!)
It’s deliciously exciting to see how almost every culture has its versions of dumplings. The Bay Area has gone wild for Nepalese momos in recent years. The tragic war in Ukraine has prompted folks to pay more attention to local Ukrainian culture and food, including the signature varenyky dumpling. But is lumpia considered a dumpling? How about empanadas from various Latin American countries and the Philippines? British pasties? Filled, steamed buns? … Scotch eggs?! Does a dumpling end where a sandwich begins? If so, what is that line? No matter how hot that debate might be, hopefully, we can agree that hearty fillings lovingly wrapped in carb blankets are dumplings. If that’s the case, then it’s no wonder that versions of this comfort food exist everywhere in the world.
SFGATE dumpling columnist Margot Seeto poses in front of Chase Luck Bakery, on Ocean Avenue in San Francisco, with a heavy haul of dumplings to go.
If there’s one thing that dumplings share, it’s that they remind us of home. Dumplings are one of the world’s best comfort foods. And that takes us to the varieties from Chase Luck Bakery on Ocean Avenue. This family-owned shop reminds me of home — literally, as my dad visits almost every week.
As a Volvo family, the former Auto 280 in Ingleside was our go-to repair place for decades. Next door was always a casual Cantonese takeout place that my parents would patronize while waiting for their cars. While it’s changed names and ownership over the years, the takeout spot has been in its best incarnation as Chase Luck Bakery since 2016. From heaping three-entree combo rice plates to as many dumplings as you can carry, Chase Luck never fails to satisfy with its reasonable prices.
After getting laid-off from my last service industry job in March 2020 because of the pandemic, I made regular visits to my parents in San Francisco to help around the house, and I got to know my dad’s errand pattern. On Mondays, he usually goes to Chase Luck after 3:00 p.m., when the food is discounted at only $3 a pound. One day, he might bring home kung pao chicken with diced zucchini, or peppery, sliced beef short ribs stir-fried with string beans and carrots.
But on the days he comes through the door holding takeout boxes bursting full of dim sum items, I always perk up extra, especially when there are dumplings. Of course, I have love for dim sum classics like har gow and siu mai, but I’m always jazzed when there are also shrimp and chive dumplings and giant, gingery potstickers.
Owner Wei Sen Lei serves up some dumplings and other tasty fare inside Chase Luck Bakery, in San Francisco, on Thursday, May 26, 2022.
We’re not talking about fine dining here, but Chase Luck’s dumplings are huge, fresh and affordable. Going later in the day results in a roulette of dumplings from week to week that never gets old. So I get our family’s weekly addiction.
After an awkward phone call where my bad, virtually nonexistent Cantonese did not get me very far with a staffer, it was clear that my ABC (American-born Chinese) ass needed a translator. Moments like this are my forever punishment for sucking at Chinese school. Despite having eaten Chase Luck’s food for literally years, I myself had never stepped foot inside. After putting a call out to my Canto network, my friend Samson Lee stepped up to the plate. Sam is fluent in Cantonese, having grown up in Brooklyn with Cantonese-speaking parents from Hong Kong. Adding him to the dumpling team made me way less nervous about bumbling my way through, well, everything.
A selection of dumplings from Chase Luck Bakery, as curated by owner Wei Sen Lei.
Business cards and chopsticks inside Chase Luck Bakery, on Ocean Avenue in San Francisco.
Steam case eats at Chase Luck Bakery in San Francisco.
Various dumplings on display in side Chase Luck Bakery, in San Francisco.
We met at Chase Luck on a weekday afternoon. The storefront’s clean, bright red awning with smiling cartoon dumplings made it easy to spot along busy Ocean Avenue. The place is, in many ways, a typical Cantonese takeout spot. Customers choose entree combos from steam trays behind a glass-walled counter. Places like this, with the same concept, dot Chinatown, the Excelsior, the Richmond, the Sunset and anywhere else with a significant Chinese population. In Hong Kong, these types of eateries are called “two-dishes-and-rice” restaurants, and typically cater to working class crowds and anyone else wanting an affordable meal.
Here, customers can get three dishes plus white rice for $7.85 (or two dishes plus fried rice or noodles) — a steal in this ever-expensive city. But we were here for the dumplings — also a delicious bargain. Next to the steam trays are pans of dumplings and other dim sum items stacked on top of each other in glass warming cases. Most orders run $1.15 for one, to $3.25 for three. The eatery is small but still feels abundant and full of possibility, since there are many potential feasts for each customer.
Wei Sen Lei, who took over Chase Luck with his wife Jessica three or four years ago (he can’t quite remember when), works tirelessly with a small team of employees seven days a week, from morning until night. Lei’s youthful appearance belies his 15-plus years in the restaurant industry: He first learned to cook at age 16 while living in his hometown of Taishan, China. After moving to the states, Lei commuted from San Francisco to a Sunnyvale Chinese restaurant job for more than 10 years before taking over Chase Luck.
Wei Sen Lei, owner of Chase Luck Bakery, photographed in front of his storefront along Ocean Avenue, on Thursday May 26, 2022.
Shyly smiling behind his mask, Lei filled a takeout box for us with his choice of dumplings from the remaining day’s supply, noting that the har gow is the most popular. He also gave us beef siu mai, taro dumplings and Chiu Chow fun gor (a regional, ear-shaped dumpling from the Chiuchow region of Guangdong), plus some bonus items like ma lai go (a steamed brown sugar cake) and dai bao (“big bun,” stuffed with ground pork, Chinese dried smoked sausage, mushrooms and hard-boiled egg). I asked Lei why his dumplings seem bigger than those at most other places. “I want to make sure people get their money’s worth. I want them to be full from one meal,” he said, translated through Sam.
Arms laden with our boxes, we found a parklet across the street and dug into our food. First up — the har gow, of course. Because shrimp.
“There’s a lot of shrimp in here!” exclaimed Sam. I took a bite of my har gow and reflexively said the same thing. Some cheaper har gow is stuffed with a lot of filler, an imbalance of too much starch powder and bamboo shoots. These har gow were almost pure shrimp, with light touches of sesame oil and white pepper. The nearly translucent dough encasing the har gow was still soft from the steamer and expertly thin.
SFGATE's dumpling columnist Margot Seeto tries some offerings from Chase Luck Bakery with her friend (and Cantonese translator) Samson Lee, inside the Ocean Ale House parklet, on Thursday, May 26, 2022.
Next, we bit into our respective pieces of beef siu mai, greeted with a cilantro-forward, bouncy bite. The beef was finely ground with other ingredients, like water chestnuts, to make a smooth paste, formed into a meatball, and wrapped cylindrically with a wonton skin. “I never had beef siu mai until I moved out here,” Sam said.
I hadn’t noticed that regional difference, though it’s true that pork siu mai is standard, and beef is a more unusual find. This dumpling would probably be more of an acquired taste, with its stealth cilantro and almost too-smooth meat texture. But did I still eat it all? Hell yeah.
Third up: the taro dumpling. What could this be with such a broad name? I forgot to ask for the Chinese name of it (again, my forever punishment), but it is a dumpling that neither Sam nor I were super familiar with. Shaped like a 4-inch-long half moon with spiraled pleats on the round part, the thicker skin was filled with diced bits of steamed taro, along with ground pork. You could probably eat three of these giant things for a meal. I’m not really a taro person, but fans of the superfood would probably like their beloved root vegetable in this dumpling form.
Opening up one of Chase Luck Bakery's dai bao — “big bun” — stuffed with pork, Chinese dried smoked sausage, mushrooms and hard-boiled egg.
Last up was the Chiu Chow fun gor — another dumpling that Sam and I didn’t know as well. Biting through the crystal dumpling skin revealed a colorful cross-section of ground pork, whole peanuts, leeks and shiitake mushrooms. This was the most surprising filling combo of the bunch and would be a refreshing addition to one’s dumpling rotation.
Considering that dim sum is thought of as brunch food, these 3:00 p.m. dumplings were impressively fresh. We could see and taste Lei’s years of restaurant experience in these dumplings. For those who go into Chase Luck blindly and accept whatever combo of dumplings fate has in store — chances are, you’ll be happy. If there are one or two not to your liking, just try, try again. There are many from which to choose and it’s totally worth going back.
It hasn’t been entirely easy for the restaurant. On top of financial losses from the pandemic from slower traffic and temporary closures, Chase Luck’s storefront glass was also smashed four times last year in alleged anti-Chinese hate crimes committed by the same individual.
Lei was “frustrated, disillusioned,” he said, but “I had to just keep going.” Community response resulted in fundraising efforts not only to replace the broken glass and security cameras, but also install a rolling metal gate to protect the business. Lei said that the perpetrator was a no-show in court, and that he has been nowhere to be found. With these extra protections, his business hasn’t suffered from additional crime since last year.
Despite razor-thin profit margins, pandemic recovery, and rising food costs, Lei is keeping his affordable prices the same — and when possible, he gives food to homeless people in the neighborhood.
SFGATE dumpling columnist Margot Seeto lines up a bite of a har gow dumpling from Chase Luck Bakery.
This simple gesture aligns with his philosophy of keeping his customers’ best interests in mind, of getting them “their money’s worth.”
All the more reason to support the small, mom-and-pop (the Leis have young children) and immigrant-owned shop. What better way to do that than to gift yourself and your loved ones with a variety box full of dumplings?
Feel free to ping me with your favorites, or other dumpling thoughts or questions. Until the next column — happy dumpling dipping.
Chase Luck Bakery, 1325 Ocean Ave., San Francisco. Open daily, 7 a.m.-6 p.m. $15 credit card minimum.