Life is Better with Pierogies

by Troy Bishopp

I’ve always enjoyed a hearty pierogi but recently learned you really pronounce it, “pierog”, as a single one. To which my Polish ancestry wife laughed, “When do ya ever eat just one anyway?” Touché!

It seems quite fitting to celebrate Pierogies going into winter since many of the local ingredients are in bins or bags and one is in need of a hearty entree after splitting wood or hunting whitetail. Originally, pierogies were considered peasant food for rural people, but have been elevated to rock-star status, as chefs and restaurants around the world tinker with the time-honored recipes.

According to frozen pierogi manufacturer, Mrs. T’s: “Pierogi consumption in the United States is largely concentrated in a geographical region dubbed the “Pierogi Pocket,” an area including New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Chicago, Detroit, parts of the northern Midwest and southern New England which accounts for 68 percent of annual US pierogi consumption.”

For us here in Central New York, I’m blessed to have lived long enough to witness the handing down of the ladies’ pierogi recipe from Poland and traditional family “cloud pocket” making parties that happen a few times a year. Traditions are best when they are practiced and mentored among all the generations. Everyone can participate in the process, including telling colorful stories and enjoying family time.

The process starts in our household with unleavened kneaded dough and rolled out into thinner, small circles with an eyeball’s dollop mixture of mashed potato, sauteed onion, sauerkraut, cottage cheese and a bit of chive or spinach which then gets folded in half and closed with a fluted edge. Depending on the chain of command, time allotment and adult beverages present, the “mini smiling clouds” are then boiled in water and placed in neat rows to dry. My wife suggests freezing them between parchment paper so they don’t stick together if you want just one or 10 for supper.

As the farm-boy and excited eater, I immediately marvel at the precision of the process and seeing rows and rows of pierogies and the “gun-shows” wielding the dough to it’s delicious conclusion. But life is better when they are fried and topped with butter and sour cream and destined for my belly.

After eating one too many, and before my heavy eyes close for a nap, I realize all the chosen ingredients can or do come from local farms, and that celebrating traditions is a key to one’s life fulfillment, joy and resilience.

“That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God.” – Ecclesiastes 3:13

Published in Country Folks, a Lee Family Newspaper