A MOST PEERLESS PIEROGI

Professor W. sent out newly-printed copies of my recommendation this morning, and that’s a good thing, because I want to be in a good mood to wax poetic about pierogi.

Was this the Ukrainian dish that launched a thousand ships
And burnt the topless tower of Ilium?
Yes, but only because the waiter was clumsy and spilled the plate on Ilium’s head.
God knows he was apologetic to Ilium afterward,
Who, being so topless on his tower, was left with a pretty nasty-looking scar.

Yes, I ate Ukrainian food yesterday. I really enjoyed it, too. Originally, K. gave me the choice of either a well-known Ukrainian restaurant, a really trendy-looking joint over in the East Village, versus a lesser-known establishment she had heard of, located in the Ukrainian Cultural Center on the same block, only two doors down.

The menu on the window of the Cultural Center looked amateurish compared to that of its more popular sibling. I could peer in through the windows, and from that perspective, I saw a long hallway; well-lit, but very sparse. The place was giving me a vibe, but not a friendly, cozy, hospitable vibe. It was more like an "Exclusive Club for Ukrainian Mobsters" vibe, similar to the "Place Where Legs are Broken" vibe. But I know a thing or two about playing blackjack. Also, I was feeling more adventurous than usual (I went into a woman’s shoe store that same evening!). Ultimately, I said what the hey, and opted for the place that looked like it belonged in a movie called "Big Trouble in Little Ukraine."

Past the spartan hallway decorated in a fresh coat of white paint, K. and I found a small restaurant that was warmly lit, and not very busy. The waitress bid us welcome, and invited us to choose any table. K. and I sat at a small table for two next to a wall, with a tall fern growing behind my chair, which shielded us from the kitchen. It gave dinner a sort of romantic, "rendezvous between spies" feeling. We got complimentary bread and butter, and K. told me the story of how she almost killed a man once, by shooting him in the shoulder with a packet of butter.

The waitress came to take our order. We had a wonderful meal consisting of borsch (which I did not try, though I hear it "beets" most other Ukrainian soups), vegetable schnitzel, boiled pierogi stuffed with meat or potatoes, and topped by a grilled onion sauce, and apple streudel for dessert. The vegetable schnitzel was flaky and flavorful, with just a hint of sweetness. The meat pierogi was a satisfying contrast of spiced, ground pig or cow, enveloped in a supple, hearty potato-based pasta. The potato pierogi simply stole the show. Boiled potato pasta concealing a mashed-potato stuffing, mouth-watering proof that there is no such thing as too much starch.

If any part of the meal disappointed, it was probably the homemade apple streudel. I can’t speak for K., but I had trouble breaking the flaky streudel pastry with my fork. Was the streudel stale? I don’t know. Also, I felt short-changed with the apple filling. Maybe it would have been better if we’d ordered coffee, too.

But all in all, dinner was great. I totally love Ukrainian food now, and after relating to the waitress how much I enjoyed the pierogi, she said K. and I must come back again. Personally, nothing would make me happier. I would love the opportunity to sample the cherry blintzes, the beef stroganoff, or maybe the fried pierogi. All you readers must eat Ukrainian food, too. Dress in KGB-disguise sunglasses and trenchcoats when you visit the restaurant, and make lots of furtive glances with your eyes.