June 18, 2010 Polish What?

My super-duper pal and favorite guzzling buddy, Melissa, comes from Pennsylvania.  Although she has become thoroughly assimilated in the whole Louisiana culture, I still listen to endless rantings about "back home we do such-and-such," and "you can only get good such-and-such up North."  If it's not enough that she's from there, her roommate is, too, as well as many other Yankee friends and acquaintances.

Never having been to Yankee-Land myself, there are things I've only heard about but never experienced: Special pretzels that couldn't possibly be replicated "probably because of the water" (that one came from her roommate, whom I've since dubbed "Pretzel-boy"); "authentic" pizza that even generations of Italians in the South don't know how to make right; a specific chicken marinade that tastes a lot like Italian dressing.  You get the idea.  Well, I feel the same way about so-called "Cajun" cooking anywhere else in the country, so I guess I shouldn't judge.

I focused on my friend's obsession with a thing called a pierogie.  I had never heard of one, much less spelled or tasted it, and it took all of her descriptive power for me to still not have a clue what it was or what it might taste like.  She and the other transplanted Yankees tried to tell me what it was, most of them being non-cooks, offering me the brand name of one that was sold in certain stores down here, etc., but I still had no idea whether I even wanted to try one.  This project is why my blog has been a little boring for the past couple of days.  It was a surprise, and Melissa reads my blog.

Since my friend was in Yankee-Land visiting family over her birthday, I decided to try my hand at making one of these elusive wonders to surprise her when she got back.  I found a recipe online and set about creating a pierogie.  It wasn't a difficult recipe, but I was missing some of the ingredients that I had to go out and get, and it was a bit of a learning curve to get all the steps right.

If you'd like the recipe, here's the link I used:  http://pittsburgh.about.com/od/recipes/r/pierogies.htm

After preparing the filling, mixing, rolling and cutting the dough, filling the dough with the filling, boiling the little ravioli-ish packages and then sauteing them in butter and onions, I finally had finished pierogies.  Only one problem.  I can't eat them. 

I had to find a Yankee native that could tell me whether this thing was any good or not BEFORE I surprised my friend with it.  I do at least pride myself on making good food, whether it is perfect or not, but I wanted this one to be a little bit more impressive.

I contacted another dear Yankee, Miss Kate, and asked her to taste-test the pierogie.  She wholeheartedly agreed.  I made the short trek over the river to present it for tasting, and she was most complimentary about its authentic taste and good flavor.  I solicited a few suggestions for improvement, which she gave and I took very seriously. 

Yesterday evening, I happily served my pal the beloved homemade birthday pierogies, and she was so grateful she ate 5 of them.  To a cook, that's the biggest compliment anyone could ever state in words.  She was so well stuffed that she barely had enough room for the chocolate mousse I made for dessert.  Good thing I had plasticware containers.