Folding Pierogi with Babcia

A Letter to Mom

1Dear Mom,
I hope your work trip is going well. I spent all of Saturday at Babcia's house, and she finally taught me how to make pierogi! When I walked in, her kitchen was a train station at rush hour. Pots rattled on the stove, the radio played polka music, and Uncle Jan hurried past with a sack of potatoes.

2First, Babcia showed me how to make the dough. She mixed flour, eggs, water and a big spoonful of sour cream, and then she let me knead it. At first it was sticky and full of lumps. After ten minutes of pushing and folding, the dough was as smooth as a baby's cheek. Babcia poked it with one finger and nodded. "Perfect," she said.

3Next came the filling. Babcia mashed hot potatoes with cheese and fried onions. The steam from the bowl fogged up my glasses, and the smell was a warm hug. Then she rolled out the dough with her old wooden rolling pin. Her arms moved like the arms of a machine, back and forth without stopping, until the dough was as thin as paper.

4Folding was the hardest part. You cut out a circle of dough, drop a spoonful of filling in the middle, fold the circle in half and pinch the edges shut. My first pierogi looked like a squashed slipper, and filling leaked out of one side. Uncle Jan laughed, but Babcia said, "Every cook starts somewhere." She guided my fingers with hers. Soon my pierogi sat in straight rows on the tray like desks in a classroom.

5Babcia dropped the pierogi into boiling water, and after a few minutes they floated to the top like little rafts. Then she fried them in butter until they turned golden. At dinner, my cousin Ola, who is a bottomless pit, ate eleven of them! She said mine were the best ones. I felt as proud as a peacock.

6Babcia is a treasure chest of family recipes. Next time, she says, she will teach me to make her sweet cheese pierogi. I saved six for you in the freezer, so hurry home!
Love,
Zofia