There is one thing that all of my family members share, it is the love for my Grandma’s homemade perogies. (Those of you who do not share this love, keep it to yourself. You know who you are!) I’m not sure if my Grandma enjoyed making perogies, but she understood the demand. Every holiday dinner, special event, or afternoon visit, she would have perogies cooked and ready to consume. It was amazing for me because I love perogies so much that I want them as my last meal!
A year and a half ago, my Grandma moved to a senior’s home into a kitchenless room. It was a great move for my Grandma; terrible move for my perogy obsession! I, like the rest of my family, resorted to buying store-bought perogies, which are still good, but not the same. I suggested a few times to my Grandma that she should come over and we will make perogies together, but she didn’t seem all that interested.
Finally one day I asked for the recipe. She didn’t have the official copy of it anymore, but she could write down what she remembers. The recipe was one of those types that experienced cooks would have no problems figuring out. To me, it was just a bunch of items, with no exact measurements or directions. As she was writing, she said things like, “Add a little bit of water, but not too much water,” or “I used this one cup, which was not a measuring cup, for the flour.” I responded with an unsteady, “Ok…”
In January, my Dad’s girlfriend Lynn and I decided to tackle this recipe. We had to find a similar recipe to compare to my Grandma’s to in order to give us guidance on exactly what the heck we were doing. The afternoon was spent peeling potatoes, measuring ingredients, rolling dough, drinking tea, talking, and occasionally calling my Grandma to see if we were messing this whole adventure up. We had a few trial and error moments, as well as several taste tests. By the end of the day, we had around 150 perogies made and holy crap, it was a lot of work!
We decided to eat our homemade perogies for supper. All I could taste were the figurative blood, sweat, and tears, maybe some literal tears too. They just weren’t the same as my Grandma’s. I called her on the way home to praise her for making all those perogies, all those years, by herself! I, after only one day of attempting the recipe, was at the point where I never wanted to see another perogy again. A very strange moment for myself and my obsession.
A month or so later, I finally decided to eat our homemade perogies again. The verdict: Really good! I still think my Grandma’s are better, but with some practice I will eventually become a pro at it and then one day I can carry on my Grandma’s tradition of perogies for every special meal. Family members, rejoice!
P.S. I’m not going to share the recipe because it is sacred. Sorry friends!