Most people call them pierogies. Some call them pyrohy. I’ve always called them varenyky. No matter how you refer to them, they’re a staple of Eastern European cuisine- and arguably the most popular dish of all time. I mean, who doesn’t like a good dumpling? Every culture has some sort of take on the dumpling. Italians have their ravioli and tortellini (technically- both are considered dumplings!). Chinese xiao long bao, pot-stickers, and shumai are all delicious variations. You’ve got regional varieties of samosas all across Southeast Asia and Africa. Even in the American South, nothing is more reminiscent of comfort food quite like chicken and dumplings (or dumplin’s). And what would my go-to teriyaki order be without the addition of some crispy gyoza?

If it hasn’t been made abundantly clear at this point, varenyky are, without a doubt, my go-to comfort food. Frankly, any kind of dumpling is a salve to my soul. But my first love will always be the of the Ukrainian variety- filled with potato, onion, cheese, and garlic.

Here’s your monthly etymology lesson from your local Ukrainian: the word “varenyky” derives from the word “var,” which is used to describe boiling liquid. The word is also used in the verb “varyty,” which means “to cook.” It’s a simple name for a dish that brings back memories of festivals, holidays, and many other Ukrainian get-togethers in between. I can’t think of a single occasion where varenyky wouldn’t be appropriate to serve.

(Photo: Curbed)

My grandmother had a whole set of these recipe cards strewn around her kitchen, purchased from the former Surma Ukrainian gift shop in NYC.

“But Dianna, you just said varenyky are a year-round delight. Why does this old recipe card say Christmas?” Great question! I’ll have a post explaining the traditions surrounding Christmas coming up at a more appropriate time. But varenyky are a crucial part of the holiday- they’re one of the 12 courses served on Christmas Eve.

Just like the card suggests, you can fill these up with whatever your heart desires. Traditional fillings include the classic potato and cheese, sauerkraut and mushroom, farmer’s cheese, potato and bacon, and potato and onion. Veselka on NYC’s Lower East Side offers up seasonal specialties, which have included braised short rib, Buffalo chicken wing, and lobster fillings. And if you think we’re not above shoving some fruit inside of our doughy rounds, think again. Dessert varenyky rock. They are trickier to make, though. More on that in a minute.

I’ve been part of the varenyk-making process many times in my life. Sure, you could do it by yourself. It’s far better as a group activity. The more bodies you have to help in the process, the more varenyky you have to eat at the end. I have very fond memories of pinching together hundreds of varenyky in church basements and camp mess halls with friends and Ukrainian “babas,” or grandmothers. The babas would chatter amongst themselves, regaling tales from the motherland and catching up on gossip (you better hope your name didn’t come up in conversation). Watching them in action is an experience in and of itself. They’d be throwing around pounds of flour and churning out dozens of varenyky- perfectly pinched- in a matter of minutes.

The term “too many cooks” need not apply here.

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When making varenyky at home, it’s always a family affair. I have two cousins here in Washington that don’t speak a lick of Ukrainian and have never been part of the varenyk-making process. My mom, round-trip plane ticket to SeaTac in hand, decided to change that over the past weekend.

Our two-day adventure started with making several pounds of potato and onion filling. I was tasked with peeling and chopping all the potatoes in the house. How many pounds are we talking here? I’ll give you this: I started off with prepping an entire 5-lb bag of Russets. Then came a smaller bag of Yukon golds. Another small bag of reds made the cut as well. My uncle popped into his garden and pulled out some purples and whites. I prepped the whites, but we unanimously decided to keep the purples out to keep the color consistent (we ended up grilling the purples and serving them for dinner).

There’s something to say about Ukrainians and their innate ability to use every part of every food item they prepare. I looked at the growing pile of potato skins as I made my way through each bag and decided that throwing them out was a disservice to my ancestors. I got one of my cousins to season them, and I crisped them up on the stovetop for an unctuous snack. It definitely powered us through the afternoon. The kid knows their seasonings.

As the potato part of the filling boiled, my uncle prepped and caramelized the onions. We used whites and reds for this batch, but I generally prefer a blend of whites, yellows, and vidalias. The potatoes were then drained, mashed and seasoned, and we incorporated the caramelized onions. I damn near had an aneurysm when my mom pulled out the hand mixer to combine everything. However…

I’d say it was actually pretty effective. Sorry for the blurry photo quality, things were moving pretty quickly. And yes, that’s a meat mallet being used incorrectly. My cousin insisted on giving the filling a few good proper smashes.

We let the filling cool overnight, and started up bright and early the next day on the dough.

I made at least 5 or 6 batches of dough for this process. In a separate bowl, I whisked one egg with a bit of room temperature water and salt. If you’ve ever made pasta before, the picture above probably looks pretty similar. I made a well in the flour, added the wet ingredients, and gingerly combined the two together. I had my cousins pour in more water as needed until I had a solid ball of dough.

I covered the dough and let it rest for at least 10 minutes.

In the meantime, we needed to get the ball rolling on our fillings (pun intended). My cousins rolled up rows and rows of potato filling onto parchment paper.

One of them got the genius idea to dye a small batch of the filling with food coloring. As the supervisor at the time, I allowed it. My mom, initially skeptical, eventually got on board with the idea. They turned out to be our initial taste-test batch.

We had green and yellow coloring at our disposal. It looked pretty spectacular.

In the meantime:

My mom got to work on pinching together the regular-colored varenyky. We made sure to roll the balls of filling no larger than an inch in diameter- those that didn’t meet the cut were subsequently eaten (or redistributed into smaller sizes). We’d take a piece of dough- about the same size as the filling- and rolled it out until it was nice and flat. We added the filling, then pinched them together tightly so that the filling couldn’t come out during the boiling process.

Now, my mom and younger cousin did most of the rolling and pinching. My older cousin decided to help their dad prepare the toppings. Out on the grill, they blended more onions with some home grown peppers, turkey bacon, and bacon rounds. Caramelized onions are the traditional norm for topping your varenyky, but again- in the spirit of Ukrainians using everything in the cooking process- we decided to get creative. It was also a great excuse for my uncle and his kid to get back on the grill together.

Once we started to see trays filling up like this, I switched tasks and made my way back to the stove. I knew I’d be on boiling duty from here until the end. I try to cook about a dozen at a time- partly to get an accurate count of how many successfully make it through the whole process, partly to prevent overcrowding in the pot.

After the varenyky have done their time in the boiling water, I scooped them out and let them strain any excess in a colander. They were quickly transferred to a container and mixed with butter so that they didn’t stick together.

Before I show off the final results, I’d like to show you a selection from our artisan collection:

This is the inside of our mixed berry dessert varenyky. My cousin macerated fresh strawberries, blueberries, and blackberries over a low heat, then strained out most of the syrup. My mom carefully pinched together the fillings, and transferred them to me for boiling. If you’re wondering how those are served, look no further:

I mixed some of the syrup with sour cream to create a creamy, tart dipping sauce. It was absolutely spectacular. Honestly, I think I ate more of the small-batch mixed berry varenyky than I did the regular potato and onion ones.

Speaking of the savory varenyky:

Here’s how my first plate turned out. This was all tie-dye varenyky, topped with the grilled peppers, onions, and bacon, and garnished with sour cream. I was very pleased with how they came out- especially the dough. For years, I had tried dough recipe after dough recipe to find one that wouldn’t come out too thick and chewy. Some people suggest adding sour cream to the dough. Others suggest adding a bit of potato filling. I kept it simple, and the results paid off. It was the softest dough I’ve ever worked with.

I love being able to pass on the traditions I grew up with to the next generation. My cousins had a blast in the kitchen, and my mom was excited to see them work with us as a team. Maybe it’ll convince them to learn a few words in Ukrainian, who knows.

All I know is that I’ve got a hankering for a few dozen of these at any given moment in time. If you’ll excuse me…

I’m going to go take a few more bites out of my culture.