Pastis vs. Pittsburgh Willy's: Another Pierogi Gets Burned
Last week, one of the dudes hired by the Pittsburgh Pirates to run around in a pierogi costume was fired for comments he made about the team on Facebook. Not being from Pennsylvania, I could've cared less about the ridiculous mascot and his social media woes. But the incident did have this New York transplant suddenly craving an East Coast nosh that's hard to find in the Southwest -- pierogi.
They're basically little dumplings boiled or pan-fried and traditionally filled with potato, onions, sauerkraut and/or meat. We hit up two local eateries to see if their pierogi could stand the heat, or if they would get burned as badly as the Pirates' mascot.
In One Corner: Pastis Delicatessen and Eurogrille
1935 S. Val Vista Dr. in Mesa
|Another case of something masquerading as a pierogi.|
While they've been adopted and Americanized by places with a high concentration of Slovakian immigrants along the Eastern Seaboard, pierogi (or pierogies, in English) are an Eastern European tradition. They're common in Poland and the Ukraine, though fillings and cooking technique vary from place to place. I figured Pastis, a contemporary European deli and restaurant in Mesa, was a good place to start.
We ordered up the pierogi appetizer and were surprised to see a plate of six deep-fried crescents arrive at our table with a side of greens and two dipping sauces. Granted, the Jewish version of pierogi are fried and a few countries pan-fry theirs, but in America the norm is boiled. My friend took a bite and immediately started grumbling.
"This isn't a pierogi! It's a friggin' knish," he griped.
If you're not familiar with a knish, it's a Jewish snack food that's often served at delis and hot dog carts in East Coast metropolitan areas. Fillings vary, but most often the knish is mashed potato or meat fried inside a dough pocket until golden brown. BINGO! We have a winner.
My friend was totally right. With subtle spices and a mashed potato filling wrapped inside a fried pocket, this pierogi tasted exactly like a knish. It was pretty good when dipped in the creamy cucumber and mint tzatziki, but very heavy and not what I was expecting.
Even scarier were the three pierogi stuffed with meat. While the menu indicated ground beef, I could swear the meat looked white and shredded. Maybe it was the dim lighting. Of course, that doesn't explain why the texture was reminiscent of canned tuna and the dry, coarse meat had an unidentifiable flavor that was more like pork or chicken. My dining partner enjoyed the beef version, but I needed the savory, spicy chipotle sauce to make it palatable.