I split an order of pirogies with my daughter on Tuesday at the neighborhood bar. They were pretty decent, but nothing like what I had growing up at my Polish girlfriend’s house. In fact, I’ve never had any that matched those. Her mother could cook. The holidays were filled with incredible Polish dishes. Even after we went out separate ways and I’d find ways to visit at Christmas for the food. I would come from college for winter break and call her hoping that her mom would answer the phone, which invariably she did because she was the gatekeeper of the phone for six daughters. Once I had mom on the phone I only had to mention how much I enjoyed her cooking from last Christmas and I would get an invite to come over for dinner. Great memories.
Super cool.
Great technique.
I had friends that did that with my mom. Thing was, they were only friends to me. Good friends, but I just wasn’t interested in them. Perhaps they were only calling for the cooking, but I think not.