WHEN Chime Doma and her three sisters were growing up, making sha momos — juicy beef dumplings that are an obsession among Tibetans — was a big, much-anticipated project. “Finding beef was not so easy, but when we finally got some, the whole family would help cut it up, and then do the mixing and the folding,” said Ms. Doma, who was raised, like many Tibetans who now live in the United States, in India.

Momos are shaped like half-moons or like plump round purses. And although they can be made with store-bought wrappers, most Tibetan households here have a small wooden dowel reserved for rolling out the thin rounds of dough. Back in Tibet, wheat was even scarcer than meat, so momos were treats for special occasions like Losar, the Tibetan New Year celebration that begins on Wednesday.

For a people who have known hunger and sacrifice, Losar is a holiday built around the comforts of food — and a dietary paradox: Though most Tibetans are Buddhists, who would avoid taking a life, they are also great lovers of meat, and sha momos are the unofficial national dish.

The sisters’ East Village restaurant, Tsampa, is mostly vegetarian, and serves only vegetable and chicken momos, in deference to the many customers who do not eat red meat. But there are always sha momos lurking off the menu, she said, for the Tibetan regulars who would be aggrieved not to find them. “Here, beef momos are everyday food,” she said. “They make Tibetans so happy.”