How to plate Mantu.

The bowl. Wide and shallow, ideally matte ceramic. The dumplings need room to spread and the topping needs a stage. A deep narrow bowl traps the steam wrong and the topping sinks into itself. We use a 9- to 10-inch flat-rim platter. White is fine. Cream is better. Anything ornate fights with the food.

The drizzle. The garlic yogurt should be generous but not oceanic. Spoon it across the dumplings in lazy ribbons, long pours, not fast ones. Aim for the yogurt to barely break against itself in the center, not pool in a single spot. The dumplings should peek through, not drown.

The topping. Spoon the tomato-lentil topping straight down the center of the platter. A single mound, not scattered. The eye wants a focal point and the fork wants to know where to start. Don’t smear; let the topping hold its shape.

The mint. This is the one most people get wrong. Dried mint is the Afghan equivalent of seasoning a dish at the very end, and it goes on after everything else, with restraint. Pinch a small amount between your fingers, hold it eight inches above the bowl, and dust. A whisper, not a snowstorm. If you can still see the dumplings clearly through the mint, you’ve used the right amount.

The serve. Mantu is meant to be communal. Set the platter in the center of the table, not at one place setting. Give everyone a small bowl and a spoon. Let them take from the platter as they go. Add naan to one side, a sliced cucumber salad to the other, and pour green tea before anyone asks for it.

The first bite. Take it before the photo. Mantu cools fast and the topping firms within minutes of plating. The first bite, at temperature, in good light, with the room still steaming, is the one to remember. Everything you do for the eye matters less than what the food tastes like the moment it arrives.

That’s the whole guide. The dish makes itself most of the way; you’re just trying not to stand in its way.