Pierogi: the word comes from feast, not from poverty
Filled dumplings are thought of as plain fare. The name says otherwise, and the Christmas Eve table bears it out.
Pierogi are boiled filled dumplings from Poland, and abroad they have a reputation as solid and simple. That picture is only half right.
What the word says
Pierogi is the plural of pierog, the general word for a single filled dumpling. And that word goes back to a Proto-Slavic root meaning feast.
That is a clue you do not expect for something you can eat every day. It explains why pierogi in Poland are so clearly tied to occasions, and why there are traditional Christmas Eve pierogi: a kind of their own for one particular evening.
Something named after a feast did not originate as filler for lean days. It originated as something that took work, for when there was reason for it.
The varieties that really matter
There are many, but three savoury ones keep coming back.
Pierogi ruskie are the best known: filled with twarog, a fresh curd cheese, together with potato and onion. The name refers not to Russia but to a historical region, something regularly misunderstood outside Poland.
Then there are pierogi z miesem, with meat, and pierogi z kapusta i grzybami, with cabbage and mushrooms. The latter are the classic meat-free fasting version, without meat, and for that very reason belong to Christmas Eve.
And then there are the sweet ones: with sweet curd cheese or with fruit, usually strawberries or blueberries, often served with cream. That the same form can be both main course and dessert is not strange once you see it as a wrapping rather than a dish.
Why they burst
When making them, things almost always go wrong at one point: the edge.
Filling that reaches the edge, flour where the dough has to stick, or wet hands, and the dumpling opens in the boiling water. Then you are boiling filling instead of pierogi.
The remedy is unspectacular. Little filling, a clean dry edge, and firm pressing. If in doubt, go over the edge again with a fork.
The second day is a dish of its own
Yesterday's boiled pierogi are not reheated in Poland but fried, in butter, until golden and crisp.
That is not a makeshift solution but, for many people, the favourite form. The dish therefore has two guises: soft and boiled on the day itself, crisp and fried afterwards.
Where else they went
Pierogi are also simply part of contemporary Canadian and American cooking, having travelled with Polish migration and become naturalised there.
That is the familiar pattern of emigrant cooking: the dish stays, the occasion disappears. What belongs to an evening in Poland sits in the freezer elsewhere. Meanwhile the word goes on saying where it comes from, even when no one hears it any more.