When Ted’s uncle came for a visit recently, he noticed our plum tree was producing lots of fruit and mentioned that his mom used to make plum pierogies. I’d only had savory pierogies like potato and cheese, but the idea of a sweet pierogi was intriguing. It wasn’t mentioned again, and he left for home.
Meanwhile, I continued harvesting bowls of plums and made a couple batches of jam when we received a letter from John with the following enclosure:
an annotated copy of his mother’s recipe for German Piroghy. Neat!
I’ve never made these before and the recipe isn’t long on details, so I did a little investigation on the Web to help fill in the gaps for a novice pierogi-chef like myself:
- For the dough
- For the mushroom filling
- For the plum filling
The original recipe didn’t have any instructions for the filling, so I looked online. Most plum pierogi recipes called for either plain white sugar or a combination of sugar and cinnamon; I used a 1-to-4 ratio of cinnamon to sugar. Peel the plum, halve and remove the stone, add about a teaspoon (or less) cinnamon/sugar in the center, then roll the plum in the cinnamon/sugar mixture.
The original recipe also called for melting a stick of butter and adding 1 cup bread crumbs, cooking until slightly browned, then rolling the plum pierogi in the butter crumb mixture. We were going to try this, but Ted ended up buying Italian-style breadcrumbs and I didn’t think that would go so well with the sweet plum so we just made them plain.
They. were. Delicious. I mean, really good. The pierogies I’d had before were the frozen kind that you microwave and serve, which are great if you need a pierogi-fix quick (making them from scratch for the first time took close to three hours from start to finish — it would likely be considerably less time next time around, but still well over an hour). But these are like a completely different food. The dough is fantastic, the filling so flavorful…
Big thanks to John for sending this our way. Great recipe!! Would make again!!1!
World Wide Knit in Public Day (WWKIP) is a global, annual observance to promote the art by knitting in public. My knitting guild planned to meet at an outdoor area of a local mall, knit for a few hours, then maybe do lunch and some shopping — ya know, make a day of it. I’d tried contacting the mall Director of Operations several times in the month prior, leaving messages indicating what we planned to do to ensure it would be OK. Although I talked to some very nice people from the office, they all deferred to the elusive DoO, who never called me back.
So we decided to wing it. It was a beautiful day, and a bloodmobile was parked in the parking lot soliciting donors… we assembled on some of the benches, and some folks brought their own chairs, and we got down to the serious business of knitting in public.
Before we even got to this point, however, we were surprised when a gentleman approached us and asked “Are you the knitting group?” At the time there were only two or three of us who were looking for a place to roost, so we hadn’t even sat down to knit, but somehow he identified us and began to explain his interest. His mother passed away recently. She was a crafter, a crocheter and knitter. And she had a LOT of yarn. He already held previous sales from her enormous stash, but still had a lot left and sought out knitting groups who might appreciate some free yarn. He read about our WWKIP event on our Web site and came specifically to meet us. We now have two large garbage bags full of yarn, which we will distribute amongst the guild to use for charity projects. Big thanks to ??? for this wonderful gift!
Other folks began to show up, and we assembled at an open area near the parking lot, and proceed to knit and chat and enjoy each other’s company. Passersby would look, and sometimes ask questions. We made the acquaintance of a lovely lady who used to knit but hadn’t taken her needles up in many years. We invited her to sit and knit with us — she was meeting her daughter for lunch, but “she said she was in traffic on the freeway, so I suppose I could sit for a while…” The weather was fabulous, and a sense of general goodwill and pleasantries filled the air…
That is until the mall cops showed up. On Segways, no less. I explained what we were doing, and about my inability to get a response from the mall DoO. Radios were whipped out. Conversations were had. An apology from the DoO was extended (he “forgot” to call me back) — BUT we couldn’t continue to meet because we hadn’t filled out the appropriate paperwork (which we didn’t know needed to be filled out because no one told us this was necessary) and could we come back another day? We again explained it was an annual event, so the “next day” we could meet would be the third Saturday in June, 2009. I really felt for the main mall cop guy, as he clearly understood our mission was one of goodness–we were no threat to well-being and safety of mall staff and patrons. He confessed that if it was up to him he’d just walk away and let us continue to knit, but he had his orders and was bound to obey them.
We mulled our options: others might be coming, we didn’t want to leave in case latecomers arrived. Mall cop had a second conversation on the radio and returned saying we could continue to knit, so long as we used the mall benches (no personal chairs) and took down our signs.
Some folks left; others of us split up and sat on their benches. It wasn’t quite what we originally had in mind, but we still did make an impact, albeit in a more subtle way. Imagine you’re out and about and you see three women sitting and knitting. You keep walking and spy another little group. Then another one. By the last group you’ve GOT to ask what’s going on, which is what happened. We handed out our fliers and invited people to knit or come by our next guild meeting.
So despite our setbacks and getting our party broken up, we still achieved what we set out to do, which was promote the art of knitting. But next year? Maybe we’ll go to a park instead…
