Day 3: Never have I ever... channeled my inner Babka

Every good Polish grandmother makes her own pierogis. Whipping up hundreds for every family occasion is probably just another Thursday afternoon for Babka. But let me tell you... this is one laborious Polish delight. 

Quick backstory... 

I'm not the best chef among us. I love to cook, especially for others. There's nothing better than preparing a meal for someone you love to enjoy. It's even better when they don't spit out the food. As a budding chef, I've had some hits, I've had some misses. My family tends to remember the misses. If I offer to contribute a dish to a family function, I'm prepared for giggles. Back home in Brooklyn, a recent Boeuf Bourguignon effort was met with this question: "Um, Carrie, is 'bourguignon' French for 'leather'?"

So for all of you gourmands out there, don't laugh too hard at my modest culinary pursuits. Or I'll invite you over for dinner. 

Ok, back to yesterday's challenge: Make pierogis... from scratch. Serve to family for dinner. 

Since this isn't a culinary blog, I'll skip the actual recipe. But here's the basic gist: 

1. Make dough

2. Make filling

3. Shape pierogis

4. Boil and/or sauté

Seems simple, eh? Well, it's not. First off, making proper dough is never easy. And I had no idea what the consistency of pierogi dough should feel like, having never made it before. It seemed remarkably gluey to me. I had visions of my family futilely gnawing on rubbery shells of dough with forced smiles. So I mixed a little extra sour cream into the dough, and crossed my fingers. (I didn't know that pierogi dough has sour cream in it, the reason for the dough's unique zing.) After an eternity of messy kneading, I wrapped the dough ball in wax paper and stuck it in the fridge.

Making the filling was more idiot-proof, but equally time-consuming. The potatoes had to be peeled (the absolute worst kitchen task in my opinion), and then boiled. The onions had to be diced and then sauteed until translucent. The two then had to be mashed together until smooth. With no lubricant like butter or milk, much elbow grease was required. I added generous amounts of salt, pepper, chives and fresh parsley for seasoning. Finally, I mixed in about 8 oz of grated sharp cheddar. 

Next up was the pierogi construction--the really long part. The sticky dough had to be rolled thin and cut into circles. Due to the dough's shrinky-dink effect, the cut circles needed to be re-rolled to thin. Then, I placed a spoonful of filling on a dough circle, carefully wet the edge (by dipping my finger into a cup of water), and closed up the Polish Hot Pocket. However, pierogis require a sturdier seal, so I took a scallop-edged cookie-cutter and pressed the round side of each half moon. Otherwise the potato filling would escape when boiled. Then, I repeated that process for the next three hours, until 40 large raw pierogis emerged. 

Pierogis are cooked by either boiling or sauteing; I chose to boil. When I saw the doughy masses begin to float to the top of the water (the fully-cooked signal), I was thrilled. The dish at least passed this first test: they float! 

I served the pierogis hot, with sauteed onions, apple sauce, and of course, sour cream. The meal was rounded out by deliciously simple fresh beets. (I bought the beets with the intention of making borscht, but when the darn pierogis consumed my entire afternoon, I had to scrap that plan.) 

The family dug in. No one was spitting it out! 4 adults and 2 children ate about half of the monster batch, and we froze the rest. The dough wasn't rubbery at all (phew!) and the classic applesauce/onion/sour cream combo really let the flavorful pierogis shine. 

My parents had never had pierogis before (what?!!), and actually seemed to like them. Of course my father, who can't imagine a world without meat, commented "they're delicious, but would be improved with some bacon bits, the real kind, not that fake crap in the cupboard."

Results: Delicious pierogis and a sated family. But time investment+cost of ingredients vs. quality of product yielded makes it a no-brainer: I will return to buying Mrs. T's pierogis in the freezer section of my local grocer. 

Status: Success! (and leftovers)