Pierogies

It’s been a quiet few weeks as we adjusted to life in the aftermath of Valerie’s passing. It’s going to be a low-key Christmas, too.

Sometimes, when things are tough, it can help to keep up the traditions that bring back happy memories. For my family, it’s making pierogies.

This tradition comes from the Solvak side of my family. Grammy made them by hand every year for Christmas, Easter and anytime my dad had a special request. When circumstances kept us from coming home to Pittsburgh back in the late 1980s, my dad learned to make them.

Over the phone, my dad took down the “recipe” which was little more than a list of ingredients. Our first attempt turned out OK, if a little doughy.

But after that aberration, I was back to standing next to Grammy in her kitchen each Christmas and Easter, with my brother and cousins on “pinch patrol” to speed production. After she died, Dad and Mary Ann took over pierogi-making duties.

That worked, too, until the year my dad got sick. Someone had to make them for Easter, and I knew it had to be me.

I made them in the tiny kitchen of Jason and mine’s rented house. Now, you have to understand that I suck at cooking. The joke is I burned Cup O’Noodles because, well, I did. But when I get my hands in that sticky dough, it’s like I’m Julia Child. Or, at least, Helen Brenckle.

I’ve made them for our celebrations every year since. I’m grateful Dad’s still here to lend me a hand.

So wherever you are tonight, I hope you’re enjoying a family tradition of your own and that it brings you joy.