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Pierogi Chicken Supper — The Green Ones, the Beautiful Ones

Mother's Day in quarantine. I cooked the full meal — bigos, short ribs, szarlotka, spring pierogi — and delivered it to the Cape Cod at 4 PM. Left it on the porch. Knocked. Got in the Jeep. Waited. Mom opened the door. She was wearing lipstick, which she does on holidays even when nobody is coming. She looked at the food — the containers stacked neatly, a card on top that said "Happy Mother's Day, Mom. You're the reason I cook. — Jake" — and she stood in the doorway and wept. Dad appeared behind her. He put his arm around her. They stood in the doorway and I sat in the Jeep and we looked at each other across thirty feet of lawn and sixteen inches of screen door and the infinite distance of a pandemic, and I said through the car window, loud enough to carry, "I LOVE YOU GUYS." Dad nodded. Mom waved. She was still crying. They took the food inside. I drove home. I'm not going to pretend this isn't devastating. I am twenty-three years old and I cannot hug my mother on Mother's Day. I cannot sit at her table and eat with her and tell her the food is good and watch her cry into her pierogi, which is the Kowalski family's primary form of emotional expression. The distance is protection and it is also cruelty, and I hate it. But the food arrived. The short ribs arrived. The szarlotka arrived. The spring pierogi — my new creation, asparagus and ricotta and lemon, a taste of spring during the longest winter of our lives — arrived. And Mom ate them and called me and said, "The new ones. The green ones. Jake, they're beautiful." The Lockdown Kitchen series crossed fifty thousand followers this week. A video of me making mushroom soup — Babcia's recipe, the Christmas Eve version, made in May because who cares about seasons anymore — got forty thousand views. People are finding me. People are cooking with me. People are making their grandmothers' recipes in their own lockdown kitchens and finding the same thing I found three years ago: that the food connects you to the people you've lost. The distance between the living and the dead gets smaller when you're stirring a pot. I'm thinking about writing more. Not just the column, not just Instagram captions. Something longer. Something that tells the whole story — Babcia, the recipes, the grief, the cooking, the dream. A book, maybe. Or not a book. I don't know. But the words are forming.

The spring pierogi I brought to the porch that day — asparagus, ricotta, lemon — were something new, something I invented because this year needed something it hadn’t seen before. But the soul of a pierogi supper is older than me, older than Babcia, older than any pandemic: it’s the idea that a stuffed piece of dough, cooked in butter, finished next to something warm and savory, can make a person feel held. This Pierogi Chicken Supper is the weeknight version of that feeling — the one you make when you want to cook something that says I love you without having to say it out loud. Mom called it beautiful. I think she was talking about all of it.

Pierogi Chicken Supper

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1-inch pieces
  • 1 package (16 oz) frozen potato-and-cheese pierogi
  • 1 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced
  • 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
  • 1 tablespoon olive oil
  • 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1/2 cup low-sodium chicken broth
  • 1/4 cup sour cream, for serving
  • 2 tablespoons fresh chives, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

  1. Boil the pierogi. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the frozen pierogi and cook according to package directions, about 4–5 minutes, until they float and are tender. Drain and set aside.
  2. Caramelize the onion. In a large skillet over medium heat, melt 2 tablespoons of butter with the olive oil. Add the sliced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, for 8–10 minutes until softened and golden. Transfer to a plate and set aside.
  3. Cook the chicken. In the same skillet over medium-high heat, add the chicken pieces. Season with garlic powder, smoked paprika, salt, and pepper. Cook 5–6 minutes, stirring occasionally, until cooked through and lightly browned. Transfer to the plate with the onion.
  4. Pan-fry the pierogi. Add the remaining 1 tablespoon of butter to the skillet over medium-high heat. Add the drained pierogi in a single layer. Cook 2–3 minutes per side until golden and slightly crisp on the edges.
  5. Combine and finish. Return the chicken and onion to the skillet with the pierogi. Pour in the chicken broth and stir gently to combine, scraping up any browned bits from the pan. Cook 1–2 minutes until the broth is mostly absorbed and everything is warmed through. Taste and adjust salt as needed.
  6. Serve. Divide among plates and top each serving with a dollop of sour cream and a scatter of fresh chives. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 36g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 610mg

Jake Kowalski
About the cook who shared this
Jake Kowalski
Week 216 of Jake’s 30-year story · Milwaukee, Wisconsin
Jake is a twenty-nine-year-old brewery worker, newlywed, and proud Polish-American from Milwaukee's Bay View neighborhood. He didn't start cooking until his grandmother Babcia Helen passed away and left behind a stack of grease-stained recipe cards. Now he makes pierogi from scratch, smokes meats on a balcony smoker his landlord pretends not to notice, and writes for guys who want to cook good food but don't know a roux from a rub.

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