Roots

It's strange. The older I get, the more in touch with my heritage I become. When I was a teenager, the thought of getting my kitchen full of flour from one end to the other to make a couple dozen perogies didn't entice me in the least. These days, I'm just about itching to do it.

I think, since I am off this week, that it is time to make a few dozen. My friend Sonja is expecting a baby soon and I'd love to pass on a few dozen for her to keep stored in the fridge for those days when you just don't have the time to cook. Also, nothing, and I mean nothing, beats home made perogies.

I grew up with a vast amount of authentic, home made Ukrainian dishes. I didn't even know what store bough perogies tasted like till I was in my mid twenties. I was dating a chef at the time who, and I never got this, thought cooking me a good meal was taking a bag of Safeway brand perogies and cooking them up for us. Yeah, he cooks all day so probably the last thing he really wanted to do was come home and cook for me, I get it, but really, buddy. I would have rather taken one of your quesadillas over that shitty dinner. We would stumble home drunk and he would make the most amazing quesadillas and grilled cheese sandwiches I ever had.

So the older I get, the more 'motherly' I become, the more I want to teach my child about his culture. I want to feed him all these Ukrainian foods that I grew up with, and I want him to be proud of that part of his family.

So I'm thinking next week I might just take a day and go for it.

We'll see if I still feel this way in a few days...