A recipe for cozy pierogies
There was a period when my dad and I, probably at his suggestion, got very into pierogies. (Much like the onion dill bread phase we spoke about previously; for those who don’t recall, the bread had been good when I was a kid and was very bad when I tried to make it again.) We attempted them, in my memory, just once, before deciding they were too much work for very little pay off and actually frozen was just fine. This is also mostly how I feel about dumplings—every single Chinese restaurant has them available frozen for takeaway, and they’re so good, why make them? Keeping them in the freezer for a snack or a dinner is the best—but occasionally, it is nice to make them from scratch and give yourself a little methodical moment of “I did this.” And they do still taste really good, if I do say so myself. (I cannot say that I make my own wrappers though, so maybe that undercuts the “saying so for myself.”)
Pierogies, on the other hand, do not have the seasoning factor of most dumplings, and this is probably connected to why my dad and I didn’t master them—at their core, they’re relatively bland (piergoi enthusiasts, don’t kill me), and it’s hard to get excited about doing something that doesn’t give you the illusion of getting a real ka-pow factor eventually.
Since then, I can’t say I’ve had them many times, but probably about a year or two ago I ate some with my friend Walter at this place that is devoted to them in Gowanus and they were good, and ever since I’ve been like, hey, I should eat pierogies more. (Antoni insisting on discussing them every chance he gets in Queer Eye-related content probably helped too). This week, it finally happened, mainly because they require very few ingredients, all of which I had in a moment when we’re trying to grocery shop as a infrequently as possible. The most annoying thing about them is that they’re a couple recipes in one. That’s what I call the Russian nesting doll of cooking and it’s the meanest trick a recipe can pull.
You will see here, YET AGAIN, that my father’s recipe is woefully imprecise, though I won’t go so far as to say that is why we didn’t make them more than once. I started with the mashed potatoes, making a rare decision not to peel them—too lazy—under the guise that the texture would add a little something to what I was concerned was a dish lacking flavor. (I also had to mash them without a masher; if you are someone who lives with me, tell me where it went, because I cannot find it.) [Ed. Note: It has been found; it was in a drawer.]
At first, I certainly used too much water in the dough, but eventually got what seemed like the right balance, though even after consulting other recipes, it was hard to tell what consistency I wanted here. Dividing the dough in two confused me, though I realized later it was because otherwise you’d have an awful lot of dough sitting out getting dry. It’s a fairly flexible recipe, though; I added onions and parsley to my lumpy potatoes. I rolled out the dough, cut the circles, dabbed on the potato mixture, and pinched together the pierogies. They all mostly held—save for some minor patching—with help from the one egg white in the freezer I had saved previously. (No cottage cheese, because I sadly forgot to pick some up.)
The pierogies were served with some sour cream on top (fancied up with a little ground garlic, that really does the trick) and delicious creamed greens. It ended up being the opposite of the onion dill bread experience: this time, the memory was that they were bad, but the new try was quite good. Well, not the complete opposite, because both the onion dill bread and the pierogies were hideous but, progress.
Donations Time: Last month, $115 went to Food Chain Workers Alliance. This month, donations will go to Feeding America, an organization my dad was particularly fond of, especially during the holidays. You can sign up to become a donor to this newsletter for $5 a month or $30 a year right here.