I do like a recipe that begins "With wet hands..."
In this instance, it's all about shaping the meatballs - I beg their pardon, the beef dumplings - before they poach in the soup.
Mac is entirely sure that meatballs are just sossidges in disguise. I did explain that in fact they were beef dumplings, but he's having none of it. Also he's having none of them, which he thinks outrageously unfair.
Now they're in the liquid, of course, I wish the recipe had begun with "Test the mixture first for seasoning," but hey. For once in my life I'm trying to do just what they tell me, and if it all goes horribly wrong it's their fault, right?
My wife meanwhile has changed and gone out to a club to meet another man. So okay, she got changed into her sweats and she's gone to the sports club to meet her personal trainer, but it's all one. Sooner or later she'll come home and demand her dinner; meantime, I feel the call of a glass of wine and a good book while said dinner gently simmers. There's not much I can do about it now.