Pierogies

The Pierogi (or Piirohi)...such a staple in the life of my Polish husband. Fried in butter and onions, I admit they are quite delicious. My children have grown to love them, as it is always included in a meal when we are visiting my in-laws. We get dozens to take back home with us after a weekend visit in their home - except the one time I truly need them. We left after Thanksgiving without them. It's not that I need them for the satisfaction of my own palette, or even for that of my family's. I need them for our annual Polish Christmas Eve dinner, which we host for dear friends who join us every year. I make fish (though not 7 varieties), mashed potatoes, piergoies, kielbasa and kraut, haluski, etc etc. And as of right now, I have no pierogies.

I have gone over my many options: buy frozen (to which my husband's nose wrinkles up), make my own (to which MY nose wrinkles up), have my mother-in-law ship them up (the most favorable option), have a Polish neighbor, whose name I don't know, make them for me. I've even talked to the head chef at Wegman's, our local grocery store, to ask if they could make them. I was told I could find some in the freezer section. I replied that my Polish husband did not find that as a preferred option, to which he replied that I haven't yet trained him right. I've gone to local specialty markets, in the hopes that they have them. The best I have come up with is a recipe from a friend who makes them with her mother every year. Her mother was so excited to pass along this recipe. I can't help but think that she has very fond memories of making pierogies with her family - the bonding, the conversations, the laughter, the eating. I have visions of being in their kitchen, flour up to my elbows, making sure I am pinching the edges just so. In this vision I am actually ENJOYING making the pierogies. Then like a mirage, it fades out enough that I see reality - a long day in the kitchen, by myself, muttering under my breath that I see nothing wrong with the frozen kind, wondering if I am pinching them enough so they stay shut in the boiling process. I know what to expect because I have made them before. Just once.

Many Christmas Eve's ago, I was in the same predicament. I ran all over town doing the same things I have done the past several weeks. I had my mother-in-law's recipe and thought, "I can do this. I will do this for my husband." I spent all day in the kitchen, boiling, mashing potatoes, rolling out dough (the recipe called for flour and water - just mix it until it's doughy - no measurements), cutting, filling, pinching, and finally boiling. As I watched them boil, I also watched the potato filling leach out of the dough. I watched the water turn murky, and I watched the dough flop. I pulled them out of the water, and what I had left was basically a noodle. There was no time to make more, as this was the day before Christmas Eve. So I kept them. On Christmas Eve Day, I made more mashed potatoes, fried my "noodles" in butter and onions, threw some mashed potatoes on them, and called them pierogies. I thought they were fine, even tasted pretty close to the same, but...and here's where every wife would be justified in any action she chooses to lay out, they were "not quite like my mom's". I'm not sure I remember what happened the rest of the night, but I'm sure Silent Night, Joy to the World, Peace on Earth, Fa La La La La's were not to be heard that night. Which is why I am willing to take all of my ingredients to the Polish neighbor, whose name I don't even know, and beg of her to make them for me.

I am going to attempt it one more time, the day long process of making the beloved pierogies. I now know, from the friend who sent me her recipe, that the secret is in the pinching. Maybe it's time to start a new tradition with my children - having flour up to our elbows, peeling, boiling, rolling, talking, laughing, singing Christmas carols, and making sure that the edges are pinched just right.