Welcome to 2012, dear readers! May your year be full of health and happiness and good food and also good booze if you're into that sort of thing!
For my first post of this, the most newest of years, I am actually discussing a dish made last year. And while I am not one to dwell on the past, the food was actually very good, so it is less dwelling and more...reminiscing? Fondly remembering? Something like that.
This dish is, in retrospect, dedicated to my paternal grandmother, who would have been crowned queen of the Cranky Old Ladies if they were a sovereign nation (and now everyone knows where I get my crotchetiness from—you're welcome, Mom). However, she did try her damnedest to get me into crocheting and knitting, and while it didn't take while she was alive, something eventually stuck and here I am.
Like my version of pierogis, my grandmother was half Polish and half Irish (the Polish side always requested that we bring her pussy willows on Dyngus Day, and the Irish side got mad at me for being excited to study abroad in England because Cromwell, murder, potatoes, etc. etc.). You can fill pierogis with most anything, including fruit if you're feeling festive and desserty, but I stuffed mine with bubble and squeak, which isn't terribly far removed from the more traditional potato and onion. For directions on making your own bubble and squeak filling, check out my post here (just don't cook the mixture and be sure to chop everything finely, otherwise you'll have a battle on your hands when you reach the stuffing stage); I mixed things up a bit by replacing the cabbage and spinach with kale and Brussels sprouts, but you can use whatever greens you have on hand.
For the dough, I basically just used this recipe, but I thought the dough needed a bit of extra water (though I think that was mostly caused by evaporation of the 3/4 c. of water I boiled). I also thought that letting the dough rest was a brilliant touch, and it made the kneading easier—it should feel like soft pasta dough when you're done.
Divide up your dough into 4 or 5 pieces, and roll out a piece until it's about 1/8 inch thick; make sure your work surface and the dough are well-floured, because the dough will want to stick. Using circular cutters of whatever size you choose (or water glasses, if you're not that fancy), cut out as many circles as you can manage. Use a dessert spoon to put a little dollop of the filling in the center of each circle, then fold up the sides and pinch the edges together; I am an inveterate overfiller, so this part is sometimes difficult and takes some finesse and practice. You also can press the tines of a fork along the edges to help seal them, plus it gives this nice little decorative touch that I am usually too lazy to do.
When all your little pierogis are stuffed and sealed, put them in some gently boiling water (if it's too roiling, your wee packages could burst) and cook them just until they float to the top. While your pierogis are cooking, heat up some oil in a wide, shallow pan; once the dumplings are done, transfer them to the hot oil and let them fry up until slightly brown, turning once or twice.
I served these with some sauerkraut and sour cream (sauer cream?) and they were very tasty. They were so tasty, in fact, that I didn't get any pictures of them and my leftover dough went weird after too much time in the fridge. However, I heartily commend these to you as a super satisfying, hearty meal full of starch and goodness. And if you serve them to someone you're wooing and slap them with a pussy willow while singing a brogue, that would be a strange way to woo someone, but best of luck to you with that.
Also, as my way of apologizing for my lack of pierogi pictures, here's the ol' PanCat, looking smooth in his pretty ribbon.
And yes, ladyeez, he's single!
For my first post of this, the most newest of years, I am actually discussing a dish made last year. And while I am not one to dwell on the past, the food was actually very good, so it is less dwelling and more...reminiscing? Fondly remembering? Something like that.
This dish is, in retrospect, dedicated to my paternal grandmother, who would have been crowned queen of the Cranky Old Ladies if they were a sovereign nation (and now everyone knows where I get my crotchetiness from—you're welcome, Mom). However, she did try her damnedest to get me into crocheting and knitting, and while it didn't take while she was alive, something eventually stuck and here I am.
Like my version of pierogis, my grandmother was half Polish and half Irish (the Polish side always requested that we bring her pussy willows on Dyngus Day, and the Irish side got mad at me for being excited to study abroad in England because Cromwell, murder, potatoes, etc. etc.). You can fill pierogis with most anything, including fruit if you're feeling festive and desserty, but I stuffed mine with bubble and squeak, which isn't terribly far removed from the more traditional potato and onion. For directions on making your own bubble and squeak filling, check out my post here (just don't cook the mixture and be sure to chop everything finely, otherwise you'll have a battle on your hands when you reach the stuffing stage); I mixed things up a bit by replacing the cabbage and spinach with kale and Brussels sprouts, but you can use whatever greens you have on hand.
For the dough, I basically just used this recipe, but I thought the dough needed a bit of extra water (though I think that was mostly caused by evaporation of the 3/4 c. of water I boiled). I also thought that letting the dough rest was a brilliant touch, and it made the kneading easier—it should feel like soft pasta dough when you're done.
Divide up your dough into 4 or 5 pieces, and roll out a piece until it's about 1/8 inch thick; make sure your work surface and the dough are well-floured, because the dough will want to stick. Using circular cutters of whatever size you choose (or water glasses, if you're not that fancy), cut out as many circles as you can manage. Use a dessert spoon to put a little dollop of the filling in the center of each circle, then fold up the sides and pinch the edges together; I am an inveterate overfiller, so this part is sometimes difficult and takes some finesse and practice. You also can press the tines of a fork along the edges to help seal them, plus it gives this nice little decorative touch that I am usually too lazy to do.
When all your little pierogis are stuffed and sealed, put them in some gently boiling water (if it's too roiling, your wee packages could burst) and cook them just until they float to the top. While your pierogis are cooking, heat up some oil in a wide, shallow pan; once the dumplings are done, transfer them to the hot oil and let them fry up until slightly brown, turning once or twice.
I served these with some sauerkraut and sour cream (sauer cream?) and they were very tasty. They were so tasty, in fact, that I didn't get any pictures of them and my leftover dough went weird after too much time in the fridge. However, I heartily commend these to you as a super satisfying, hearty meal full of starch and goodness. And if you serve them to someone you're wooing and slap them with a pussy willow while singing a brogue, that would be a strange way to woo someone, but best of luck to you with that.
Also, as my way of apologizing for my lack of pierogi pictures, here's the ol' PanCat, looking smooth in his pretty ribbon.
And yes, ladyeez, he's single!
