Luke Raykovicz

Laura Collander

ENG 1103

22 January 2024

Pierogi Magic and Christmas Traditions

Luke Raykovicz

The kitchen erupts into joyful chaos as my sister and I take our positions at our pierogi

stations, forming an assembly line alongside both of my grandparents.The rhythmic cranking of

the handle on our old dough sheeter fills the air as we collectively transform raw ingredients into

delicious creations.

Each one of us has a set task, nobody is

left without a job and if you're in the kitchen,

you better be working. My grandpa cuts small

circles from the homemade dough. Julia, my

sister, fills each pierogi with mashed potatoes,

folding the edges over and pressing them down

with a fork to lock the insides in place. Finally

my favorite part, painting each pierogi in a

radiant golden egg wash and placing the

product in a pot of boiling water. After a few

short minutes, the kitchen is filled with the aroma of a fresh pierogi and my grandpa adds the

final touch of melted butter and fried onions on top.

The outer layer is perfectly cooked to a golden brown, giving it a crispy and slightly

crunchy texture. The inside is soft and savory, creating a beautiful blend of textures and flavors.

This dish holds a special place in my heart, the tradition traces its roots to my great grandmother,

a stubborn polish woman who taught the art of pierogi-making to my grandparents. Every year,

they embark on a 12-hour drive from New York to join us for the holidays. I'm immensely

grateful to be able to share this tradition with both my grandparents. In a time where it seems like

everyone is becoming less connected because of phones and sickness, it's nice to know that every

year I can see my grandparents and bond over this one special thing.

Biting into a pierogi gives me a little glimpse of the Christmas magic that I felt when I

was a kid. There's nothing like setting out milk and cookies for Santa and struggling to fall

asleep on Christmas Eve, riddled with anticipation. Eating a pierogi reminds me of anxiously

waiting at the top of the stairs for my parents to get the video camera, excited to see what gifts

hide under the tree downstairs. It reminds me of my dad readily holding a trash bag for us to

shove our wrapping paper in, and giving my mom sideways glances when we open something

that “we aren't supposed to get”.

All of this chaos is something that I will cherish for as long as I live. I look forward to

continuing this tradition so that my kids and even grandkids share the same joy that I feel when

making perogies. Every pierogi filled, buttered and boiled brings me closer to my grandparents,