Pierogi Sunday

Granted, it's not widely celebrated. Hallmark doesn't even make a greeting card for it. But in our house, it's a hit.

Some time ago I told you about how I had instituted the tradition of having pierogis for dinner on the first Sunday of every month (as if Fast Sunday could get any more awesome). Like most of my ideas, Heather is not only the one that actually made it happen, she improved on my plan.

My plan: Do pierogis the way I had them growing up ie, topped with cheese sauce, mushroom soup sauce, chopped bacon, and "wrigleys" (I never thought to ask dad why he called sauteed onions wrigleys, but I've decided it might be a reference to a menu item at Wrigley Field, home of the Chicago Cubs).

Heather's Improvement: Making the pierogis from scratch.



This has totally elevated one of my favorite meals to a whole new level. I don't even need to conduct a taste test comparison to know they are better, the whole matter can be settled by an appeal to logic.

The question: could a mass-produced, machine-produced food ever taste as good as the same food made by hand, by a beautiful woman, for someone that she loves?

According to logic and the natural laws governing food, that's impossible.

Now, sitting through three hours of Church on an empty stomach doesn't even faze me. Go ahead, tell some lame story instead of bearing your testimony. Let that fussy kid over there keep on fussin'. Nothing bothers me today. Not on Pierogi Sunday.



- C