By November. The birthday month. Babcia would have been ninety-seven. Tom turned sixty. I turn thirty soon. And somewhere inside Megan, a boy who will be born in the spring is growing, adding his birthday to the family calendar. The November birthdays accumulate. The Kowalski tradition of being born in the cold.
Made Babcia's mushroom soup for her birthday. The ritual continues, unchanged. I stand at the stove and stir and hum and think about her hands. But this year the thinking is different because this year I'm thinking about her great-grandchild. Babcia's great-grandchild. A boy she will never meet who will eat her pierogi and stand at this counter and learn to fold dough. The continuity of it — Babcia to me to this baby — makes the soup taste different. Fuller. More complete.
Megan is six months pregnant. The bump is prominent. She walks with a slight waddle that she denies ("I do NOT waddle") and she does (she absolutely waddles). She's teaching through the pregnancy with the determination of a woman who refuses to sit down. Her students rubbed her belly this week. She let them. Twenty-two small hands on her stomach, feeling the baby kick. She came home and said, "Your son kicked Marcus in the hand." The baby is already asserting himself. He's a Kowalski.
Tom's birthday dinner at our house — the full spread, made in the kitchen he wired. He sat at the table and ate pierogi and mushroom soup and golabki and he looked around the kitchen and he looked at Megan's belly and I saw something on his face I've never seen before: complete contentment. Not quiet satisfaction. Not reserved approval. Complete, open, visible contentment. Tom Kowalski is happy. The Kowalski men are evolving.
There’s a moment when you’re at the stove stirring Babcia’s soup and you think about all the hands that have folded dough at this counter — and you want to add something to the table that asks you to use yours. That’s what the bourekas were. Tom’s birthday spread already had the pierogi and the golabki, but I wanted something I could fold myself, something that would sit next to the soup and feel worthy of the occasion. And when I thought about a baby who will one day stand at this counter and learn what it means to work with dough, I wanted to leave him one more thing to inherit.
Spinach and Feta Bourekas
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 12 bourekas
Ingredients
- 1 sheet (about 8 oz) frozen puff pastry, thawed
- 10 oz frozen chopped spinach, thawed and squeezed very dry
- 3/4 cup crumbled feta cheese
- 1/4 cup ricotta cheese
- 1 large egg, divided
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
- 1 tablespoon water
- 1 tablespoon sesame seeds (optional, for topping)
Instructions
- Preheat oven. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.
- Make the filling. In a medium bowl, combine the squeezed-dry spinach, feta, ricotta, garlic, black pepper, nutmeg, and one half of the egg (beat the egg lightly, then use half). Stir until the mixture is evenly combined.
- Prepare the egg wash. In a small bowl, whisk together the remaining half egg with 1 tablespoon of water. Set aside.
- Cut the pastry. On a lightly floured surface, unfold or roll the puff pastry sheet into a 12-by-12-inch square. Cut into 12 equal rectangles, roughly 3 by 4 inches each.
- Fill and fold. Place a heaping tablespoon of spinach filling onto one half of each rectangle, leaving a 1/2-inch border. Fold the pastry over the filling to form a smaller rectangle. Press the edges firmly with a fork to seal.
- Egg wash and top. Transfer the bourekas to the prepared baking sheet. Brush the tops with egg wash and sprinkle with sesame seeds if using.
- Bake. Bake for 22—25 minutes, until the bourekas are puffed and deep golden brown. Let rest 5 minutes before serving. Best warm.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 148 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 12g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 210mg