Making Memories

My friend Jessica came over to play last night, and we did this:



Homemade pierogi.

Jessica's family makes them by the ton every Christmas.
We decided to surprise The Big Guy, who has begged me to make them for him for 20 years.
I refuse, because what he really wants are his Grandmother's pierogi (and Babka), and nothing less will satisfy. Having never made them myself, I don't like the odds.

Jessica's family recipe sounded very much like the Rozenski version, with a potato and cheese filling.
(We couldn't find Farmer's cheese up here in the wilds of Maine and subbed cheddar. Worked great.)



The technique was certainly the same, and Jess made it fun!

The Things were perplexed: how is it that Jess is in the kitchen, and Mom's still upright?
She's even smiling and laughing!
How can this be?? Nobody gets in this kitchen...NOBODY!

Ah...unless they make pierogi. From scratch. And are willing to share tricks.



I'm not stupid, I got my slave labor involved.
This way they can make them for us every Easter, while we relax in the living room.
Yeah, right.



This kid is the Dough Queen. At the ripe age of 9, she has mastered pizza fritta, gnocchi, and now pierogi.
Fringe benefits of being the daughter of an Italian and a Polack, and the daughter of a Bakery owner.
I'm cutting her loose with my cinnamon roll dough next weekend.



Jessica has lots of patience. There was much hand-washing involved.
Like, "Did you just touch your face? GO WASH!"
And, "Did I just see you wipe your hands on your pants??? GO WASH!"
The kids are missing layers of skin, and the Scooby Doo soap dispenser is empty.



At one point the rolling pin was in the living room, watching a Pink Panther cartoon.



We made A LOT of pierogi.



We just kept filling pans.



When we started frying them, we were all overcome by hunger and began eating them right from the pan. Something about the smell of the onions frying in butter makes me weak in the knees.



They were worth every time-consuming, messy minute.
Melt-in-your-mouth-good. Authentically good.
Rozenski-recipe good, according to The Big Guy. High praise, indeed!



Thank You, Jess, for sharing your recipe, and for sharing your evening with us.

I wonder if she does Babka?

Cravings

Oddly enough, I get cravings to cook things, not so much cravings to eat things.

That's not to say I don't sample what I create, of course!

Sometimes a craving comes over me that is too strong to be postponed.

Not ignored. Life's too short to ignore cravings. 

Never do that.

But postponed. Sometimes the craving comes at an inopportune time...like the middle of the night.  (I never let that stop me, but I'm usually up anyway!)

Yesterday, it was bacon. (I'm not even a huge fan of bacon. Oh, it's good. Possibly the Root Of All Evil, calorie-wise. You could wrap absolutely anything in bacon, and it would taste good. But I stay away, for the obvious reasons of  my posterior: left cheek and right cheek.)

But, alas, the craving was bacon.

Before I knew it, there were bacon and onion sizzling in a pan. Spaghetti was boiling on the next burner.

eggs, cheese, and salt and pepper were fork-blended in a small bowl. The fresh parsley was ready to be chiffonade-ed....

When the macaroni was done, I tossed the whole mess in a bowl, and had this:

Spaghetti Carbonara.

We didn't let the fact that we'd just finished dinner stop us from diving into this. 

What, you don't get intense cravings to cook something before you've even cleaned up the dinner dishes??

Is that just me?

That 'fresh' parsley? I pick leaves off my plants, wash them, and lay them out on a towel to dry. 

When free of moisture, I pack them into airtight containers and store in the freezer. The Best!

I do it with basil, too. I don't know for sure how long it 'keeps' that way, I use it up before I've ever  had it turn into anything else. But it keeps my plants producing!

And now...I feel the need to knead something.....