Every Christmas and Easter my mom and I pull out this pierogi recipe book to make pierogi. It’s a complex, time consuming process to make dough from scratch, make potato filling, roll out dough, portion out filling, properly seal the pierogi, boil them, and then bake in the oven. The recipe book and tradition of making pierogi with my mom is the only aspect of my life that relates to my Polish heritage. Unlike her, I don’t have memories of a rambunctious, extended family coming over for holidays and huddling around the kitchen to have a proper pierogi assembly line. Almost all of those family members died before I could meet them. According to my parents, my great, great, grandparents immigrated to the US in the early 1900’s, but even that fact is fuzzy. I take pride in this tradition because it’s the one piece of my heritage that I feel connected to, but everything else feels foreign. I wonder if it’s ok or normal to feel so detached – and if other Americans feel the same way I do. Would my ancestors be mad or understanding of my feelings? Would they teach me the proper way to seal a pierogi because I can never get it right? I get so frustrated with all these unknowns and the detachment that lingers. To combat that, I pull out a pierogi recipe book to try and connect to a culture that feels foreign. 

– Becky Rish

Relationship:  Great-grandchild of im/migrant or more Great-grandchild of im/migrant or more