A Christmas Tradition & A Mad-Car Pile Up

It's been quite some time since my last post - as it happens I tend to get absorbed in the food aspects of the  Holiday Season and was spending what would otherwise be my blogging time cooking and baking as if preparing for a deadline. For four days my husband quizzically observed me hauling grocery bags from all corners of Brooklyn and Manhattan. "Relax, it's the holidays. Why are you making this so hard on yourself?" he asked. This would be met with an irritated, "What do you mean? It's tradition!" 


But in all honesty, for me, the Polish pre-Christmas tradition of Wigilia (Christmas Eve dinner), which was historically a 12 dish "meatless fast" (now more like a coma-inducing mushroom, sauerkraut and fish filled feast), is a hugely importatant and very necessary part of my year-end celebrations. And so after all the preparation, I feel it necessary to share a small part of these adventures with you.




My Wigilia preparations began surrounded with tradition. As I made my way to Polam, a stellar Polish meat market in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, I could already overhear mumblings of Wigilia shopping lists and related discussions. (For those of you who don't know, Greenpoint is a Polish neighborhood - a really Polish neighborhood, and therefore the perfect opening setting for any Polish Christmas food story). "Oh, we forgot to get the herrings," "I still need dried mushrooms, but let's get them from the place near the house," "Should we make golabki? Grandpa likes golabki. It's too much work, but Grandpa likes golabki. Oh to hell with it, I'm not going to all that work to make him golabki," etc.


Aside from having probably the best cold cuts and kielbasa outside of my favorite joint in Warsaw, Polam is a 500 sqft virtual madhouse of all that is great and amusing about the culture I call my own. There are dozens of similar places on this block, yet this one is always packed to the gills, their apparently equally stocked neighbors attracting just a few clients. Enveloped by the amazing smells of smoked meats and fish (smoked mackerel = heaven), air dried kielbasas and cured hams, a virtual circus of shoppers and workers dodges each other seamlessly. There is always a line, but right before Christmas and Easter one's sense of personal space and ability to cooperate can really be tested by pierogi-fattened old women grabbing items from all around, with "excuse me" requests coming from every direction.


I was maintaining my footing in this line equivalent to a Polish mad-car pile up when of course, my mother called. With the phone balanced on my shoulder as I dodged a passing crate of sauerkraut, I asked her to email me the preparation method for a certain component of the approaching Wigilia dinner. Interestingly, despite the request of the recipe via email (simple! efficient!), my mother imediatley began to explain the recipe verbally, stage by stage, ingredient by ingredient, interjecting past mistakes and future improvements. (For the record,  she did later email me the recipe, in non-paragraph format). While listening to her talk, I realized what a part of our family tradition that type of spiel really was - a verbal handing down of cooking methods and advice. How could I have expected her to do it any other way? I thought of how my father would similarly explain recipes to me, enthusiastically detailing the exact shade the onions needed to be before, for example, the mushrooms were added. As much as the Wigilia dinner itself, this passing on of information was a part of my Polish Christmas tradition. Later that day, flipping through Polish Heritage Cookery in search of a pierogi dough recipe, I was again struck that all the recipes read just like my parents verbal instructions. Paragraphs, just as if someone was reciting them aloud. The Wigilia "tradition" encompassed me, and as I continued over the next several days to put together the various dishes I was pushed along knowing that even with my reinterpretations and personal additions, I was still taking part in something more special than just the meal alone. 


So today I'm going to share with you, though not in the oral tradition, the recipe for my favorite, and very traditional, dish from Wigilia - Barszcz z Uszkami ("Borscht"- to use the more familiar Russian term - with mushroom "ravioli"). Interestingly the Uszka (translated as Little Ears) are as traditional as you get - made following a method my family and others have followed for years. On the other hand, the barszcz has some of my own adjustments.  It holds to the basic idea, but has a few additions I imagine will end up as part of my continued family tradition. 


For both of these you will need about 6 onions chopped and caramelized in canola or other vegetable oil (olive oil has too strong a flavor so avoid using it if possible). It's best to do this all at once for both dishes.


Uszka

Filling


• 3 onions, chopped finely (or half of the previously mentioned batch)
• 1.5 cups dried Polish mushrooms (such as Borowiki, Podgrzybki or Prawdziwki, available at any Polish food store. If you can't find these, dried Porcini work as well)
• Canola or other vegetable oil
• Salt and Pepper


Method:


1. Pour hot water over the dried mushrooms and let them sit for at least an hour. I usually do it the night before and refrigerate.
2. Caramelize the onions in the oil (don't add salt as they will not caramelize properly) - this should take at least 30 minutes.
3. Chop the mushrooms finely and add to the onions along with some of the mushroom liquid. Reserve the rest of the liquid for the barszcz.
4. Season with salt and pepper.
5. Optional: if you have a food grinder, run the mixture through the rough setting. This will refine it a little more.


Dough:


• 2.5 cups all purpose flour, plus extra for rolling dough
• 1/2 teaspoon salt.
• 1 egg
• 1/2 cup cold water


Method:


1. Sprinkle the salt into the flour.
2. If using a mixer, throw in the flour and place the egg in the middle and begin to mix with the paddle attachment slowly adding the water. Otherwise make a volcano shape with the flour. Place the egg in the middle and begin to mix, adding the water gradually.
3. Put the dough in a bowl and cover in plastic wrap. Leave it to sit in a warm place for about a half hour. If your dough looks a bit lumpy the sitting time should take care of this.
4. Sprinkle your workspace with flour and divide dough into 4 parts. Roll out one part with a rolling pin or a pasta maker/ pasta maker attachment to your mixer. It will need to be pretty thin (think chinese dumplings).
5. Cut into roughly  2 " x 2 " squares.


Shortcut: buy dumpling skins at an Asian food store and cut into squares. Avoid wonton skins as they are way too thin. This will not be 100% authentic but does the job in a pinch. 


6. To construct your uszka:


This can be hard to explain so check out this link showing how to fold them. Excuse my laziness!


7. Place them on a very well-floured board and cover in plastic wrap until cooking time. You can also freeze them but make sure they are covered in a very good amount of flour or they will stick together quite easily.


8. To cook, throw them into rapidly boiling water for about 5 minutes or until they rise to the top. If you like you can follow that by frying them - which is a method I most prefer.




Barszcz

The basic stock:


• 2 large carrots
• 3 stalks of celery
• 1 large or 2 medium parsnips
• 2 medium onions
• 4 cloves of garlic
• 6 beets, scrubbed, along with their stalks (leaves don't add much so I wouldn't bother).
   * Note: to make a really rich barszcz, you will need more than 6 beets, but what I do is use the fresh ones for the stock base and then use canned ones in the later part of the recipe. If you want to go all out with fully fresh ingredients and have the cash to spend on lots of beets, go ahead, but it can be a bit of a pain overall.
• handful of dried Polish mushrooms
• handful of peppercorns
• 2 bayleaves


Method:


Throw everything in a large stockpot, bring to boil. Reduce to simmer and cook for at least 2 hours. Strain and discard vegetables.


To continue:


• 2 large cans of beets
• half of the previous onion mixture or 3 onions, finely sliced and caramelized
• small bottle of pomegranate juice or cherry juice (this adds an amazing depth and richness)
• a few pinches of nutmeg
• a squeeze of lemon (or if available, sour red currants)
• half a bunch of fresh dill (to serve)


Method:


1. Place all ingredients except for the dill and lemon into base stock and allow to simmer for about an hour.
2. Strain again. Squeeze in the lemon or currants to taste so the barszcz has a slight tartness.
3. Chop the dill and add to the top, reserving a little for when you serve with uszka.

Before I go, I wanted to mention an article that was published in the New York Times Dining section last week, just after I had started writing this post. It was an item on Veselka, the famed Ukranian restaurant in the East Village. Coincidentally, the article featured recipes for three tradtional Ukrainan Christmas dishes - two of which were "Borscht" and "Vushka." For those interested, take a look to see how these traditions vary cross-culturally! 


Until next time - Enjoy! 


xx Annah