Peter Sztal and Frank Kavanagh of Cloud Picker Coffee reckon they have the best of both worlds at Christmas, when they celebrate both Polish and Irish traditions in their Dublin home.
“In Poland, Christmas Eve is the main event,” says Sztal of the pescatarian feast of Wigilia, “so we’re very lucky to effectively have two Christmases every year – on the 24th, and then on the 25th when we’d do the Irish traditional Christmas dinner.”
The 24th is an intimate affair, spent with Sztal’s mother Anna who visits every year from Warsaw. Traditionally starting when the first evening star appears in the sky, Wigilia is steeped in Christian symbolism, with 12 dishes signifying the 12 apostles. The meal begins by breaking bread together – or specifically, breaking a Eucharist wafer provided by the church for the purpose. “You break the other person’s bread for them and wish them whatever you want for them for the next year,” Kavanagh explains, “which for us always involves tears!”
Both Sztal and Kavanagh are atheists but the ritual remains an annual favourite for them. “It’s just about lovely honest messages,” adds Sztal. “And it’s that moment of decompression. There’s a massive rush up until Christmas Eve and this is the moment when the dinner’s cooked and everyone has dressed up nicely and are ready to sit down, glass of wine in hand.”
Getting that dinner cooked is no mean feat, and Anna spends at least three to four days preparing. Dishes include cold salads like chopped root vegetables, hard-boiled egg and gherkin in homemade mayonnaise; a sweet-sour beetroot borscht with little ear-like dumplings; a “delicate but hearty” cabbage and mushroom stew called bigos; a wild mushroom and buckwheat soup; two different types of herring, pickled and in oil; and ryba po grecku or ‘Greek fish’, which Sztal describes as “a fillet of white fish absolutely covered in a grated parsnip and carrot sauce with loads of lemon and bay leaf and allspice”.
Wild mushroom pierogi always feature. They make these in advance in very large volumes, roping in friends for regular vodka-fuelled ‘pierogi parties’ in order to create a production line for the kneading, rolling, stuffing, folding and pinching that goes into each dumpling. “There is a bit of effort involved,” Sztal reckons, “so if you’re making 50 you might as well make 300, have a bit of craic with it and then freeze a bunch of them.”
Desserts include a strudel-style cake with poppy seed and orange peel, and kutia, a regional dish of tiny squares of homemade pasta served hot with raisins and poppy seeds from Mazovia in mid-north-eastern Poland.
One very traditional dish that is conspicuously missing in the couple’s Dublin version of Wigilia is carp, an oily freshwater fish which is traditionally brought home live on the 21st or 22nd and stored in the bath until ready to dispatch. “Every mother would have their own way of killing the carp,” Sztal explains. “One would use a hammer, another a meat cleaver – my mum liked to whack hers on the sharp edge of the stairs!” The fish is then descaled, gutted and cooked, and the scales themselves dried on the radiator and placed on a little plate in the middle of the table. “Everyone takes one or two scales and puts them in their wallet, and it’s supposed to bring you money.”
Sztal has never quite recovered from childhood memories of killing the carp and is happy to skip the dish. “The horrendous treatment of the animal is not justified in the final product, for me, though some people go mental for it.”
Besides, they always have more than enough food, given the quantities that they prepare – and the traditional Irish Christmas dinner to follow, with smoked salmon followed by turkey and honey-roast ham, Brussels sprouts (charred and finished with hazelnuts is a favourite) and all the usual trimmings. There’s usually a Christmas pudding too – Kavanagh grew up in a household where the cupboards would be full of “loads of puddings and Christmas cakes” from October onwards – though it rarely gets eaten.
The couple often invite friends of various nationalities to join them on the 25th, and serve up oysters, lobster or ceviche inspired by research trips to Central America. “In El Salvador, we ate ceviche for breakfast, lunch and dinner,” Kavanagh says.
“It’s a perfect time for us to visit coffee farms,” Sztal explains, “as both the roastery and the café [on Pearse Street] are closed for the holidays.” This year, they hope to travel in late December to Antioquia in north-west Colombia to visit a fourth-generation female farmer whose coffee features in Cloud Picker’s La Gabriela blend (named after her grandmother from whom she has taken over). Who knows, maybe empanadas with the Antioquia region’s spicy coriander ají picante sauce might feature in the couple’s Christmases to come.
WILD MUSHROOM PIEROGI
Makes 50-60 pierogi; serve 5-6 per person
You can make the filling a couple of days in advance and keep in your fridge to spread the workflow. We use Type 500 flour from Polish delis, which is slightly stronger in taste and generally used for doughs rather than cakes, but you can substitute with all-purpose flour.
Ingredients
For the dough
700g wheat flour, either Type 500 or all-purpose flour
4tbsp vegetable or sunflower oil
1tsp salt
2 cups (about 500ml) boiling water
For the filling
150g dried wild mushrooms
500g sauerkraut (shop-bought is perfect), drained
1 large white onion, diced
1 large pinch of salt
1 pinch of sugar
Freshly ground black pepper
Method
To make the filling, cover the mushrooms in hot water and soak for at least two hours or overnight. Combine the mushrooms and soaking water with the drained sauerkraut in a large pot and simmer over a low heat for an hour. Remove from the heat, drain the liquid and allow the mixture to cool. Meanwhile, fry the diced onion in a little oil until soft and translucent.
When the sauerkraut and mushrooms are cool enough to handle, squeeze the mixture hard to remove excess liquid. Mix well with the onion and frying oil. Add the salt, sugar and plenty of freshly ground black pepper to taste. Finally, blitz this mixture in a food processor or electric mincer or simply chop finely with a knife. Cover and refrigerate (the filling will stick to the dough when it’s cold).
To make the dough, clear a large, clean and dry workstation area – you’ll need about 80-90cm counter space. Sieve the flour into a large mixing bowl, add oil and salt. Add 400ml boiling water and set aside for 10 minutes until cool enough to handle, then use your hands to bring it together into a dough. Transfer to a clean and floured surface and knead for a few minutes until elastic and soft, adding a little flour or water if needed to regulate the consistency.
Roll a quarter of the dough on a lightly floured surface with a rolling pin until thin (like pasta). Meanwhile, keep the remaining dough wrapped tightly in a clean tea towel to prevent it from drying out. Cut out circles of dough with a cookie cutter (3-4in) or the top of a mug. Hold a dough circle in your hand, spoon a generous quantity of the stuffing into the middle. Fold over the circle and seal it tightly. With a good dough to filling ratio, they should look like little ‘fat bellies’. Repeat with the rest of the rolled dough; you should get eight-12 pierogi per batch depending on your cutter.*
Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to a gentle simmer, adding a generous glug of oil to prevent the pierogi sticking. Gently lower 8-12 pierogi into the simmering water and immediately stir them gently from the bottom. Once they all float to the surface, cook for another minute before removing with a slotted spoon. Spread them one-deep on a large plate, ensuring they’re not on top of each other or they’ll stick. Repeat with the remaining batches.
Serve warm, drizzled with brown butter or topped with fried onion and fresh parsley or dill. Alternatively, allow to cool and refrigerate until ready to reheat by frying on a pan with a little oil until golden and crispy on the outside.
*Tip: You can freeze the pierogi at this point, in a ziplock bag, and then defrost later in the boiling salted water.
