"Those who forget the pasta are condemned to reheat it." ~Unknown

Sunday, December 16, 2012

One-man Pirogi

     Dad's in Sinaloa, with the wildly fun, interesting and slightly dangerous job of looking at zuchinni in hoop-houses.  Mom and I figured Cy would take the week a little easier, Cy doesn't roll that way though.  Instead, he's single-handedly put together one of our favorite, most complex dinners.
     There are three plates of pirogi, ready to be cooked, and a pan full of onions sits on the stove, alongside one of sauerkraut, warming up, and kielbasa for the three of us.  It's cold and rainy outside, though not cold enough for snow.  There's a fire in the fireplace, next to the tree, with it's warm lights and shiny ornaments.  It's not yet five, and dark as night outside.  Inside, in here, the bright colored lights cut the gloom of a December day.  Holiday lights do something to the season that normal, yellow, lights cannot.

    After the flurry of activity right before the end of any meal, Cy dished up the pirogi, sauerkraut and kielbasa for us, as we set up the Elf.  We ate dinner in front of the TV, with one of our favorite holiday movies.

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