Pierogi, as is often pointed out, is a plural, because, like ravioli, these plump little Polish dumplings are never served singly and more often than not come in a generous heap for everyone to dig into. They come in many guises – minced meat, sauerkraut, mushroom, even blueberry – but perhaps they are most commonly filled with a deliciously starchy, creamy mix of potato and soft cheese.
Known as pierogi ruskie – a name that refers to the people of the northern Carpathians of southern Poland, western Ukraine and eastern Slovakia, who were formerly known as Ruthenians – they’re vegetarian-friendly, fun to make and turn a few simple ingredients into a feast. Though the process is simple, it is quite labour-intensive, so I’d suggest making more than you need and freezing a batch as a gift to your future self.
The dough
They may look a little bit like funny-shaped ravioli (or perhaps the Tyrolean mezzelune), but pierogi are made from a softer, more pliable dough that’s much easier to handle; also, there are no machines and not much elbow grease required. Instead of the high-protein durum wheat flour used for pasta, which has a typical protein content of just over 13%, maka puszysta (soft flour) has about 11%, compared with just under 10% for the British plain flour sitting in my kitchen. It is, however, like the 00 flour favoured for pasta making, very finely ground, so Polish-British food writer Ren Behan recommends using pasta flour if you can get hold of maka puszysta – despite the extra protein, it does give a silkier finish.
More significant than the choice of flour, however, is whether you decide to enrich the dough with eggs or dairy, or stick with the more traditional, and plain, mixture of flour, water, salt and, often but not always, fat (Polish food writer Zuza Zak makes the very plausible claim in her book, Pierogi, that the eggs are a development that probably came from Italy). I try recipes using whole eggs (Behan, chef Marek Widomski and Warsaw’s Bar Prasowy), egg yolks (Zak) and soured cream (the Polonist website).
Though all give a good result, to my surprise I find I enjoy the plain version from Michał Korkosz’s book Fresh from Poland the most – it offers the greatest contrast between the rich, cheesy filling and the outer wrapper, and is particularly good topped with soured cream. The egg doughs are sturdier than the plain and cream versions, which makes them slightly easier to work with, but they’re also heavier, which, because they tend to be slightly thicker than your average pasta, in less than expert hands risks edging them towards stodgy.
Behan also says to use hot, rather than warm water – many recipes are somewhat vague on the temperature required, but previous experiments with hot water crust pastry hve shown me that it does make the dough more pliable. This means that, like Bar Prasowy, you can use butter instead of largely flavourless oil in the dough, because you can melt it with the water. However, you may, like Korkosz, prefer the nutty flavour of good-quality rapeseed oil.
But, whether you use egg, butter, oil or cream, do not overwork the dough; you’re not looking to develop the gluten here, because you don’t want the dumpling to be too elastic to shape, or indeed too chewy to eat. Once it comes together into a smooth ball, leave it to rest before rolling out.
The cheese
The cheese element is the second trickiest thing to get right, assuming you don’t have access to Polish twaróg, which is now fairly widely stocked in larger UK supermarkets, as well as in eastern European specialists. It’s a fresh, unsalted, acid-set curd cheese with a moist, somewhat crumbly texture and a mild, slightly tangy lactic flavour. Zak, who uses smoked twaróg, says you can substitute “mild-medium cheddar or a mixture of comté and brillat-savarin”, which, of course, you can, and with delicious results, though the salty, overtly cheesy flavour is somewhat different to the milkier original. Widomski suggests ricotta, Amelia Nierenberg, who adapted the Bar Prasowy recipe for the New York Times, quark, cottage cheese or soured cream, Anna Hurning of the Polish Your Kitchen site a mix of cottage cheese and Greek yoghurt, while Behan goes with cream cheese – but not the leading brand, which she says is too creamy and rich.
Taste testing them all side by side with twaróg, I find the curds of a full-fat cottage cheese the most similar in texture – through it’s lower in fat, you could always mix in a little of the soured cream to add richness. That said, all cheese is good cheese, and quark and soft cheese both melt into the potato very satisfyingly, especially if, as Behan advises in her book Wild Honey and Rye, you pass them through a ricer together, so they’re really well combined.
The potato
Oddly enough, Bar Prasowy, which, as one of Warsaw’s best-loved milk bars, has presumably been turning out pierogi for decades, supply the only recipe calling for waxy, rather than starchy potatoes, and cuts them into cubes, rather than mashing or crushing them. This gives them a quite different texture from the others, more akin to a chunky Cornish pasty filling. However, it also makes them much harder to close, because the angular shape of the potato pieces has a tendency to elbow its way out of the pastry; one for experienced babcia only.
If this is your first foray into pierogi making, I’d recommend going down the more common, floury route. Boiling the potatoes in their skins, as Zak and Widomski dictate, is always a good idea, both for flavour and to keep them as dry as possible, so that, when you come to mash them, they’re fluffy rather than soggy. (You could, of course, even keep the skins on, if you like, to up the fibre content, but I’m not sure your average Polish granny would approve.)
Zak, like the cooks at Bar Prasowy, dices rather than mashes her potatoes, but everyone else crushes them into submission, with Widomski’s recipe advising that, “for best results, don’t mash the potatoes. Instead, use a fork, food mill, or ricer.” Though I struggle to see the difference between a fork and a potato masher – one simply seems to be a more efficient version of the other – the potato ricer, which is also mentioned by Behan, does give a lighter, fluffier texture, if you happen to have one in your armoury. If not, a fork, or a potato masher will do just fine.
The seasoning
Onions are not mandatory in pierogi ruskie, but they are delicious – and the sweeter, the better, so if you can find the white onions specified by Behan and Korkosz, all the better. If not, some caramelised brown onions will do the job, especially if cooked in butter for extra flavour. Save some to scatter over the top, too.
Pepper – white for Zak, to preserve the creamy colour of the dish – is the only spice I find used, but in quantity: as Korkosz explains, “the filling should be very peppery”. Make sure you leave the filling to cool completely before use, or it’ll make the pastry hard to work with.
The cooking and serving
Pierogi are almost always boiled – they’re ready a couple of minutes after they float to the surface, depending on how soft you like them – but many recipes then go on to fry them in butter or oil until golden brown and slightly crisp. If you go down this route, I’d do so in the same pan you used to fry the onions, to take advantage of their flavour.
Soured cream, caramelised onions, thyme or chives are also excellent serving suggestions, as is the more American crispy bacon shards, but my favourite topping proves to be Korkosz’s great-grandmother’s browned butter, whose nuttiness pairs beautifully with the creamy cheese and sweet onion.
Given the fiddly nature of filling and shaping the pierogi, you can make several batches at once, and then simply blanch them for a minute before draining, tossing with butter or oil and freezing in a single layer until solid; you can them tip them into bags for easier storage. Reheat in boiling water until cooked through. Note that the same dough can be used for other fillings, such as minced meat or sauerkraut.
Perfect pierogi
Prep 10 min
Rest 30 min+
Cook 50 min
Makes About 30
For the filling
400g floury potatoes, all of roughly even size
Salt
1 large white or brown onion, peeled and finely chopped
2 tbsp butter, plus 2 tbsp extra for the optional brown butter
140g twaróg cheese, or cream cheese or drained cottage cheese mixed with a little soured cream
Pepper, preferably white
For the dough
1 tbsp butter
250g maka puszysta, or 00 pasta flour or plain flour
½ tsp salt
Put the whole unpeeled potatoes in a pan of well-salted water, bring to a boil, then turn down the heat slightly and simmer until cooked through.
How long this takes will depend on the size of the potatoes, but check them regularly from about 15 minutes onwards.
Meanwhile, melt two tablespoons of the butter in a frying pan on a medium-low heat, add the onion and a pinch of salt and fry, stirring regularly so it doesn’t burn, for about 15 to 20 minutes, until a deep golden brown.
Once they are cooked through, drain the potatoes, put back in the hot pan to dry off further, then, when they’re just cool enough to handle, peel off and discard the skins.
Pass the flesh through a potato ricer, or mash it, then crumble or stir in the cheese and season to taste with salt and white pepper.
Pass the mix through the ricer again, if using, then stir in half the onions until evenly distributed; set aside the rest of the onions in a small bowl for now, and don’t wash up the pan. Leave the filling to cool completely.
To make the dough, put the butter in a small pan or microwaveable bowl with 125ml water and heat until the butter has melted and the water is just simmering.
Meanwhile, put the flour and salt in a large bowl. Stir in just enough of the water and butter to make a dough, adding more flour or liquid as required until it just comes together; it shouldn’t be at all wet or sticky.
Turn out the dough on to a lightly floured surface and knead until just smooth – do not overwork it. Cover with a slightly damp cloth or tea towel, then leave to rest for at least 30 minutes.
If making the brown butter to serve with the pierogi, melt the remaining two tablespoons of butter in the onion pan on a medium heat, until the foam subsides and it turns a rich, nutty brown. Take off the heat and tip into the bowl of reserved onions. Keep the pan if you’re planning to finish off the pierogi in there later.
Bring a large pan of salted water to a boil. Meanwhile, roll out the dough on the same lightly floured surface to about 3mm thick, then use a 8cm-wide cutter or glass to cut out circles, putting them under the damp cloth as you do so.
(Once they’re all cut, you can re-roll and cut more circles from the scraps of dough, though it will be tougher than the first batch.)
Put about a teaspoon of the filling in the centre of one of the circles, fold the dough around it in a taco shape, pushing down on the filling, if need be, to make space at the top to pinch shut, then go down both sides to seal (if they’re tricky to close, brush with a little cold water).
Put back under the damp cloth and repeat with the remaining dough circles and filling.
Cook the pierogi in batches in the boiling water; they should rise to the surface after two or three minutes, and are ready a couple of minutes after that. Drain well.
Meanwhile, put the onion pan on a medium-high heat – it should still be well greased, but, if not, add a little more oil or butter.
If frying the pierogi, put them in the hot pan and fry, shaking it to move them around, until lightly golden, then add the onions and browned butter just before serving. If serving them boiled, reheat the onions and browned butter and tip over the drained pierogi.
Pierogi; what’s your favourite filling, why are they not better known outside Poland, and which other dishes among the proud, eastern European tradition of dumpling-making would you recommend? And where do you go for the very best?
This article was amended on 8 February 2024. An earlier version misspelled the cheese brillat-savarin.
