I usually have dumplings on the brain, a fetish heightened recently as the Chinese New Year passed, as I was teased by consecutive dumpling spreads in the first and second issues of Edible Queens (damn you, law hong jai). And also since I received a review copy of The Dumpling: A Seasonal Guide by Wai Hon Chu and Connie Lovatt, a beautiful, user-friendly guide to making dumplings from around the world–from Hungarian potato dumplings to Mexican tamales to a rainbow of bao and buns and mandu from the Orient.

(In fact Nach Waxman, the owner of the Upper East Side’s Kitchen Arts & Letters, lauded it in this issue of Edible Manhattan.)

It was armed with knowledge that on a recent night, racing back to Long Island and Edible East End against what will hopefully turn out to be our last snowstorm of the season, my co-publisher Stephen Munshin and I diverted from the Long Island Expressway at Exit 23 (aka Flushing, Queens) and headed north a mile to No. 1 East Restaurant at 41-27 Main Street, whose spinach dumplings the Times called “dense with spinach but sweet, not grassy,” and which SeriousEat’s Robyn Lee reviewed in more detail. (I wonder if Robert Sietsema has ever eaten here.)

(As background, it’s worth noting that if there was a Geiger counter-like device that indicated the presence of good Chinese food, the signal would fade the farther east of Gotham one drove–with the exception of a deafening pulse at around exit 23 on the LIE.)

Armed with my knowledge gleaned from The Dumpling (Wai Hon Chu also directs and sometimes teaches dumpling making at the Culinary Center at the Bowery Whole Foods Market), I was able to determine that the remarkably clean and light spinach dumplings we ordered were wrapped using the  “pleated half-moon fold.” (Or, on second thought,  perhaps they were “belly-button” or “bowl fold.”) The pork dumplings, in contrast, were wrapped almost tortilla-style, with both ends open.

It was a relatively fast meal, but essential for Stephen and I to steel ourselves against the drive back home. In fact, we were so happy sweating out our hot and sour soup and dipping our dumplings that we didn’t realize the kitchen had closed, and we had missed our opportunity to order a few dozen or more bao to go. Learning to make dumplings at home might be the best option for my fix, after all.

Hard to say what exactly it is about dumplings, but everybody seems to love these wet-cooked food parcels-each a soft, tender wrap of dough (or other starchy product such as cornmeal or rice), containing within it a filling that only reveals itself when bitten into, releasing an exciting squish of flavor and a reminder that the world is truly a place of miracles.

Sometimes these steamy pleasures are filled with meat, sometimes with fish, vegetables or unimaginably exotic substances you mightn’t touch had they not arrived clothed. And sometimes, just for the fun of it, they are filled merely with themselves. Maybe what pleases us is the excitement of unraveling a mystery, or maybe it is renewed recognition that the plainest exteriors often hide the greatest treasures.

And, now, thanks to a fine new book, you can make these endearing gastronomic geodes in your kitchen. The Dumpling: A Seasonal Guide (Morrow, 2009) is a hefty 424-page introduction to the world of Chinese shumai, of caldo de bolas from Ecuador, Russian pelmeni, mochi from Japan and endless wonders from Nigeria, Mexico, Greece, Tibet, Italy and points beyond.

The authors are Wai Hon Chu, Hong Kong-born but a New Yorker through and through-CUNY graduate, lives in Chinatown and teaches around town, including the Bowery Culinary Institute at Whole Foods-and Connie Lovatt, a private professional chef. Their book, arranged seasonally, is richly instructional.  A superb introduction contains some 60 pages on ingredients and techniques and even has an illustrated glossary of folding and sealing methods. Throughout the book are bits and pieces of cultural background on the particular food and useful serving suggestions.  Many of these dumplings are eaten in soups and stews, so as a bonus you get a variety of recipes in which to float your dumplings or, in some cases, to dunk them.

For New Yorkers, The Dumpling is not only a cookbook but a reminder that most of these international treasures are available right in our own backyards. While you might want to travel the world to seek out knedliky in the Czech Republic, kroppkakor in Sweden or ashak in Afghanistan, the delightful fact is that, with no more travel than a couple of subway forays, you can find and consume all these and many, many more without leaving town.  We are among the few places in the world where you can pursue them. London, maybe, but, well, you already have your Metrocard, so why bother?

So, you’ve got a happy choice. Using this excellent new book, study up, fling open your door and step out to sample this delightful, richly varied fare. Or stay at home, prop up your copy of The Dumpling, invite in a few friends and go traveling in your own kitchen.

Nach Waxman is owner of Kitchen Arts & Letters, an Upper East Side New York bookstore specializing in food and wine, where cooks and fressers congregate.