By Marco Shalma

Walk into any dim sum hall in Manhattan or Queens and you can spot the dim wits instantly. They hover. They overthink. They clutch their phones like they’re decoding a secret menu. They ask the cart auntie for “the one from the viral video” and get a stare that could crack porcelain. Meanwhile the locals—old-school Chinatown families, first-gens, and real New Yorkers who’ve been eating here since strollers—are already five dishes deep.

Dim sum has rules. They’re not written on a chalkboard. They live in muscle memory. And if you want to stop embarrassing yourself, start here.

You begin with the holy trinity of competence:

• Har gow (shrimp dumplings): thin, translucent wrapper, firm shrimp filling. If the wrapper is thick or tearing, you’re in the wrong room.

• Siu mai (pork and shrimp): should be juicy without being greasy and hold shape when you pick it up. If it collapses, run.

• Char siu bao (BBQ pork buns): fluffy, lightly sweet, actual roasted pork inside. If it’s neon red or tastes like candy, you got tourist buns.

These three tell you more about a dim sum kitchen than any specialty item ever will.

Pass those tests and you graduate to New Yorker moves:

• Cheong fun (rice noodle rolls): shrimp, beef, or fried dough. Texture is everything. Soft and silky, not gummy. Sauce should be balanced—savory-sweet, never syrupy.

• Turnip cake (lo bak go): crispy edges, soft interior, flecks of radish and dried shrimp. Every real dim sum spot serves it.

• Pai gwat (steamed spare ribs): black bean sauce, tender meat, actual flavor—not bland, not pale, not dry.

And yes, the big one: chicken feet. If you make a face, that’s on you. Every legitimate Cantonese dim sum house in NYC serves them. They’re braised, flavorful, and part of the cuisine—not a dare.

Also, dim wit tells aren’t in the food. They’re in the behavior.

• Don’t wait for carts—go to them.

• Don’t interview the staff—they’re working, not hosting a tasting menu.

• Don’t freeze the table—dim sum is fast, communal, and meant to flow.

• Don’t ask for “gluten-free options”—this is dim sum, not a boutique bakery.

A real order in a real NYC dim sum hall starts like this:

Har gow, siu mai, char siu bao, cheong fun, turnip cake, pai gwat.

If those hit, explore the carts. If they don’t, pay and head somewhere that doesn’t treat dim sum like a theme park.

Tag the friend who called it “Chinese brunch” and held up the cart asking for the dumpling that “went viral.”