Edna Bashista convinced me that you don't have to be of Slavic origin to make pierogies.
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Pierogies in hand, Sandy Yanuco, left, and Jackie Peterson kiss their mother, Edna Bashista, who taught them to make pierogies from scratch. (Franka Bruns, Post-Gazette) |
I got a lesson from Edna (she is Anglo-American) at her daughter's house, where they spent two days preparing the pastry turnover that I had always considered so much a part of my own country, Poland. In fact, in our part of the world, arguments start over who and where pierogies were invented. But such a dispute doesn't make sense, because an exchange of food and recipes is a normal cultural process. What difference does it make whether they are Ukrainian, Russian or Polish?
But I never met an Anglo-American or German who knew how to make them.
On the third weekend of August, Jackie and Ron Peterson of West Mifflin organize a pierogies picnic. Their filling of choice: Cheddar cheese and potato.
In my own country, I would be more apt to see them filled with cottage cheese, cabbage with mushrooms, meat or even with blueberries.
I went to West Mifflin to get my hands in the dough, and I did. I rolled up my sleeves, and, under Edna's tutelage, I mixed flour, eggs, water and salt
For one batch, you need 5 cups of flour, 4 eggs and a tablespoon of salt, plus water as needed.
The dough, which I mixed with my hands, felt like glue at first, then became easier to work with. But Edna instructed me to use only one hand and then, if the dough's not springy enough, add more flour.
The family had already boiled 50 pounds of potatoes and mixed them with grated Cheddar cheese for the filling.
Although many pierogi makers roll out their dough, this family used a pasta machine, changing the settings as the dough became thinner and thinner.
We cut strips -- typically three pieces -- then with my hand I put a ball of potatoes and cheese on each piece. (It was a bit less than 1/4 cup.)
You have to close each pierogi carefully because if there is a hole in the seam, it will burst during the boiling.
"And that's a boo-boo," Edna said.
The Petersons also cook their pierogies after the boiling. The pierogies are fried in butter and served with fried onions and perhaps a little sour cream.
"It's good to have a beer with that, too" said Jackie Peterson.
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Start with flour, eggs, water and salt and end with the finished product - pierogies, these with onions and sour cream. (Franka Bruns, Post-Gazette) |
That must have been some party the Petersons threw. For their family, that traditional Saturday get-together is almost like Thanksgiving. The family has been gathering for 25 years to taste their pierogies -- their own unique tradition.
The chosen date is several days after Ron Peterson's birthday. He's 63 and a retired AT&T employee, and his friends also attend.
They were among dozens of people who enjoyed maybe hundreds of pierogies, with only a few leftovers.
"Some people liked it so much that they came for lunch, they went to work and after that came for a dinner in the early evening," said Jackie Peterson.
Ron Peterson loves making pierogies. He learned from his wife, who learned it from her mother, Edna, who got the technique handed down from her husband's family, who were Germans from Austria. That at least makes sense. Austria is close to Eastern European countries, the area one usually thinks of when thinking of pierogies.
"Certainly they brought the recipe of pierogies" said Edna. "But we really don't know exactly where they got it from."
Jackie Peterson's daughters were not interested in learning how to make them in their youth, and now they're busy so she counts on her grandchildren.
Only once has Jackie tasted pierogies prepared by Americans of Slavic origin. It was at the International Village in McKeesport, the city's ethnic festival.
"They were good, but those pierogies for sale must be cost-conscious," Jackie said. "If you make them for the family, you go ahead with the better grade of cheese."
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