Pierogi

Christmas Eve is near, and that means one thing: pierogi.

I am one of seven children raised Polish-Catholic, with all four grandparents born in Poland. My parents grew up in Polish neighborhoods in Trenton, NJ. Christmas and Easter were, therefore, infused with the sights, sounds, and smells of Eastern Europe.

American traditions overlaid Polish as the years progressed. Tinsel covered trees and bubble lights merged with polka music and the blessing of the manger. Add to the mixture family traditions. I have no clue who or what originated the opening of presents one at a time on Christmas, but to do otherwise was sacrilegious. I will credit mom with the careful opening of gifts, folding and saving the paper to be used in the future.

The unwrapping of presents Christmas Day did not start until noon, after Mass and late breakfast. With the attention given to appreciating each person’s gift given and received, the ten plus hour process was paused for dinner and resumed afterward. In some years, the unwrapping of gifts continued into the following day.

But Christmas Eve….! My dad was number nine of eleven children. He shared that it was his job to watch outside for the first evening star to appear, which was the signal for the Christmas Eve feast to begin. I believe there was soup and fish and other elements in those days. Over the decades the courses have evolved with one item enduring: Pierogi.

For the uninformed, pierogi is the Polish version of filled dumplings. It seems most cultures have a dough plus filling variation. To those whose awareness of pierogi is a version of Mrs. T’s frozen variety, how can I best communicate the difference? It’s like comparing Apple Jacks to an orchard picked Stayman, or a scratch-n-sniff sticker to a living rose.

In my early years, pierogi came via train. To be more specific, Baci (Polish for grandmother) got off the train from Trenton laden down with arms and fingers clutching multiple boxes tied up with strings. Inside were varieties of pierogi wrapped in multiple layers of wax paper and plastic. Already boiled, these gems were ready for the frying pan that would be simmering with golden butter. The smell of heated butter in a pan in any season always brings pierogi to mind.

It was not until my adult years that I would comprehend the love and sacrifice involved in Baci’s endeavor. These days we gather as many of our 16-member nuclear family as possible several days before Christmas Eve. I would have spent multiple hours the night before sautéing and combining the separate fillings. The sauerkraut and cabbage mixture includes bacon, apples and brown sugar. The cheese filling is a mixture of Farmer’s Cheese (which has a dry cottage cheese texture) and cream cheese blended with honey, sugar, and egg yolks. Cinnamon,beaten egg whites, and cracker crumbs are gently folded in. As children, we endured the sauerkraut, and lusted after the sweet cheese variety.

Come ‘Pierogi Making Day’ one adult mans the mixer preparing the dough—flour, sour cream and eggs. This is the most difficult task as the dough must be soft, elastic, and resilient. At a large table, 1–2 individuals are rolling out the dough and cutting four-inch discs. These are passed off to 6–8 hands who fill, fold and crimp the discs either free-form or using pierogi presses.

The formed dumplings are laid on an oiled sheet. There can’t be any splits, holes or unsealed seams. Once the tray is filled, another volunteer places each pierog into a pot of boiling water. You know they are cooked once they rise to the surface, at which point they are ladled out and aligned on a parchment paper tray to cool. Once cooled, they are placed in labeled ziplock bags and stored for the Christmas Eve feast.

Each part of the process is critical and involves mentorship. Grandchildren work alongside parents using Play-doh before they graduate to the real thing. Even the marking of the ziplocks is critical. Irritation and even anger has disturbed many a feast due to biting into a sauerkraut pierog when one was expecting cheese.

Last year, our assembly line of eleven created 369 pierogi in about five hours. That’s a well-oiled machine.

The importance of pierogi and many other holiday traditions became vivid in a conversation I had this past Thanksgiving. This person grew up with a ‘sterile’ Christmas—no customs, traditions, or trappings. That may sound holy or pure. I contest it’s holier than scripture. God ordained yearly feasts that were overflowing with color, shape, fragrance, and taste. Read the detailed descriptions that God gives Moses (Leviticus 23; Exodus 23; Deuteronomy 16). They are sensory experiences.

A complaint frequently voiced about Christmas is the preoccupation with the trappings with an absence of the substance, meaning, or purpose. That is a loss. And at times, like in the Grinch’s Whoville, the removal of trappings can reveal the heart beneath the holly. But I am grateful for the holly and lights and songs and seasonal foods which perpetuate the celebration from year to year.

I view the sights, tastes, and sounds as vehicles through which I can communicate to a new generation the who, what and why of Christmas. God taking on flesh, being born a child, living and walking among us with a goal of dying for us, is an event worth celebrating with all of our senses. And in this family that has joyfully included pierogi.

REFLECTIONS:

What sights, sounds, and smells have been passed down to you to celebrate this time of year?

Are there activities you would like to either pass on or initiate for future generations to more fully experience Christmas?