Here’s a photo of my BFF making the pierogi. It’s an action shot. Immediately after the 11 dozen (minus the blow-outs who met a swift but delicious death) were put to frozen sleep, she had to go lay down because her back was killing her after the exertion. I say this not to mock. This is my output for the day:
This took me all day and I shot my knees by balancing on a ladder rung for endless hours. I don’t know why I persist in thinking that I can do a whole paint job in 4 hours, start to finish. Reality has taught me that is no longer so and yet, I believe.
What day is this? The 6th. The kitchen project has to be done by Dec 23, so 17 more days. You there, St. Jude?
Maybe you can’t see it unless you click to enlarge, but the double layer of dough pinched at the edges is thin and fine. That is the mark of a real peirogi master. Think of the frozen pierogies you may have seen in a supermarket freezer case. They taste good but the dough is thick. You can’t buy fineness like this – you have to be born to it.