Poland: Stew, Schabowy, and Solidarity
Poland: Stew, Schabowy, and Solidarity
Poland’s story is one of spectacular rises and devastating falls. For centuries, the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth (1569–1795) dominated Central and Eastern Europe, not just in size but in its unusual degree of religious and ethnic tolerance, notably fostering the world’s largest Jewish community. However, by the late 18th century, internal strife and external aggression led to its complete dismemberment, known as the Partitions of Poland (1772–1795), when the nation was carved up by the Russian Empire, the Kingdom of Prussia, and the Austrian Habsburg Monarchy. For 123 years, Poland existed only in the hearts and minds of its people, a culture kept alive through language, faith, and, especially, the kitchen.
The Great War offered a brutal opportunity. After World War I, the Second Polish Republic was reborn in 1918, but this fragile independence quickly gave way to political upheaval. By the 1930s, Poland was under the authoritarian Sanacja regime, which promised renewal but delivered repression and hardship. In this era, food became a symbol of both deprivation and organized resistance.
This brief period of fragile independence was shattered by the Nazi invasion of September 1939, plunging Poland into the most devastating chapter of World War II. The next six years saw a campaign of brutal occupation, systematic genocide, and mass resistance from the Polish Home Army and other groups, transforming the country into the primary battlefield of the Holocaust. The working class and peasantry, already marginalized, were now on the front lines of survival, where the scarcity of a single potato or piece of meat was a matter of life and death. The war gave way to the decades of the Cold War, as Poland fell under the Soviet sphere of influence, only to finally emerge as modern, liberal democratic Poland after the fall of communism in 1989.
Polish cuisine, a blend of Slav, Germanic, and Jewish influences, reflects this history of both plenty and scarcity. It's built on hearty, simple staples, cabbage, potatoes, grain, and pork, dishes designed to sustain hard labor and endure long winters.
Our journey focuses on five powerful dishes and the moments of working-class defiance they sustained during the turbulent years of 1933-1945. We will talk about the robust flavor of bigos, and how this preserved cabbage and meat stew sustained workers during the 1936 Krakow strikes, where tens of thousands fought for better wages and labor rights under the Sanacja regime. We will talk about gołąbki, and how these humble stuffed cabbage rolls fueled the massive 1937 Polish Peasant Strike, where rural laborers organized nationwide to protest government repression and plummeting agricultural prices. We will talk about Kotlet Schabowy, and how these simple breaded pork cutlets provided the strength for the 1942–1943 Zamość Uprising, where Polish peasants resisted forced removal and colonization by Nazi forces. We will talk about pierogi, and how these were smuggled in and consumed by the fighters and survivors of the 1943 Warsaw ghetto uprising against Nazi extermination. Finally, we will Żurek, a sour rye soup that provided warmth and sustenance for the fighters and civilians during the 63-day 1944 Warsaw uprising, an attempt by the Polish Home Army to liberate Warsaw from the Nazis towards the end of WWII.
So grab your pot, and lets start simmering.
Bigos: Stew of Solidarity
Bigos, the Polish hunter’s stew, reflects centuries of communal life, scarcity, and national spirit. At its heart, bigos is a long, slow melding of chopped fresh cabbage and sour sauerkraut, with various cuts of meat, pork, beef, deer, whatever is available, bound together by mushrooms, plums, and a splash of wine or cooking stock. Its origins stretch back to the Middle Ages, evolving from simple, rustic hunters’ fare into a centerpiece of Polish feasting. Famously, it tastes better the longer it simmers and the more times it’s reheated. It is a dish born of necessity and elevated by patience. And in the tumultuous spring of 1936, this deeply rooted peasant and working-class staple became the physical and metaphorical fuel for one of the most significant and bloody labor uprisings in interwar Poland: the Kraków Workers’ General Strike.
The stage for this eruption was the Second Polish Republic, which was established in the wake of WWI, and the hectic vacuum that followed. Germany had established a new puppet Polish “kingdom” in Eastern Front areas seized from Russia in order to head off any questions about Polish independents and formalize Germany’s wartime advances. However, the loss of Germany in the war left a ruling council for the new kingdom with no king. In addition, hundreds of workers councils, inspired by the Russian Revolution, sprang up in the territories that had formerly constituted Poland, and declared themselves the “Provisional People’s Government of Poland. Józef Piłsudski, nominally a socialist and more accurately nationalist, a paramilitary leader who led Polish volunteers to fight Russian troops during WWI on behalf of the German government (before turning on Germany and getting arrested after the Russian Revolution), was released from prison. This perfect storm led to the creation of the new republican government, which was constituted as a parliamentary government with Piłsudski as Chief of State.
The new government was beset by economic turmoil, and Piłsudski’s designs to continue fighting Russia. To prevent war, the Polish Parliament limited the powers of the presidency, causing him to step down. The unrest didn’t stop, and in 1926, Józef Piłsudski and supporters from the military staged a coup, promising to cleanse the “moral rot” at the center of Poland.
Following Józef Piłsudski’s 1926 coup, the country was governed by the increasingly authoritarian Sanacja regime, which promised “moral cleansing” and stability. By the 1930s, however, the global Great Depression had savaged the Polish economy, exacerbating long-standing social and political tensions. Factories shuttered, unemployment soared, and the meager wages of those still working were slashed. The government’s response was often heavy-handed and indifferent, leading to widespread disillusionment among industrial laborers and the peasantry. Kraków, a traditional hub of intellectual and cultural life but also a key industrial city, was a tinderbox of radicalized workers and militant unions, many aligned with the Polish Socialist Party (PPS) and the Communist Party.
The immediate spark came on March 21, 1936, in the small, industrialized town of Semianowice Śląskie, where a protest against the firing of striking workers turned into a violent clash with police, leaving four dead. In solidarity and fury, the labor movement across southern Poland mobilized. Kraków was the epicenter of the retaliation. On the morning of March 23, thousands of workers, from tram drivers and metalworkers to textile laborers and dockhands, launched a city-wide general strike. They demanded higher wages, an end to mass layoffs, the re-employment of fired workers, and the release of political prisoners. The city ground to a halt. Buses stopped running. Factories fell silent. The strike, initially an economic protest, rapidly escalated into a direct political confrontation with the Sanacja regime, which perceived any organized dissent as a threat to its authority.
The government’s response was swift and brutal. Piłsudski’s forces, already veterans of suppressing peasant and worker unrest, moved decisively. Troops and police flooded the streets, and martial law was essentially imposed. Workers, organized by union leaders and local PPS activists, erected barricades, transforming the working-class districts of the city into battle zones. The struggle was desperate: police and soldiers opened fire on demonstrators. For days, the sounds of gunfire and the shouts of protestors echoed through the streets. When the smoke cleared, the price of the confrontation was tallied: at least 18 civilians were dead, and hundreds more were injured and arrested. The Kraków Massacre, as it became known, was a watershed moment, one of the bloodiest events in interwar Polish labor history.
In strike kitchens across Kraków, the protest was fed by bigos, the dish of workers, peasants, and families. If bullets defined the state’s answer, stew defined the people’s.The long, slow preparation of the stew, typically taking hours, was an act of defiance in itself, a commitment to sustained life and resistance amidst chaos. In the gathering halls of trade unions, in the back kitchens of sympathetic taverns, and in makeshift canteens, huge, battered pots were put on to simmer. Donations of cabbage, meat scraps, and potatoes were pooled, a physical representation of the striking workers’ communal resources.
The dish’s symbolism was potent. Its fusion of diverse, often humble, ingredients—sauerkraut from the previous harvest, a few scraps of sausage, maybe a handful of dried forest mushrooms, mirrored the unity of the diverse working-class coalition. Metalworkers stood beside textile laborers, railwaymen next to students and intellectuals, all rallying around the shared objective of a dignified life and an end to repression. When plates of steaming bigos were served to exhausted workers manning the barricades or organizing in clandestine meetings, the stew was not just sustenance; it was an act of solidarity. It transformed the gathering places into something more than meeting rooms, they became strike kitchens, feeding the struggle. The earthy, comforting aroma of bigos was the scent of a shared commitment that they would endure together.
The strike eventually collapsed under the weight of the state's military force and the arrests of its leaders. However, the Sanacja regime’s victory was a pyrrhic one. The brutal crackdown radicalized the Polish labor movement and the political opposition. The massacre became a rallying cry, illustrating the regime’s authoritarian nature and its deep hostility toward workers' rights. It strengthened the alliances between industrial laborers and the increasingly impoverished peasantry, planting seeds of anti-government unity that would prove critical in the coming years.
The legacy of the 1936 Kraków Strike, and the memory of the communal bigos that sustained it, became woven into the fabric of the working-class movement. It proved that the spirit of resistance could not be extinguished by bullets. The memory of the workers who fell, and the solidarity forged over shared meals in strike kitchens, kept the flame of opposition burning. As the decade drew to a close and Poland stood on the precipice of World War II, this simmering defiance, the quiet, communal strength embodied by a pot of bigos, foreshadowed the wider national struggle against both domestic repression and foreign invasion.
After cooking this, I can confirm, bigos IS better after being reheated.
Bigos (Hunter’s Stew)
A hearty Polish stew with meat, sauerkraut, and vegetables, often considered Poland’s national dish.
Ingredients (Serves 6-8):
1 kg sauerkraut, drained and rinsed
500g fresh cabbage, shredded
300g pork shoulder, cubed
200g smoked sausage (kiełbasa), sliced
200g bacon, chopped
1 large onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
200g mushrooms, sliced
2 apples, peeled and diced
2 cups beef or vegetable broth
1 cup dry red wine (optional)
2 tbsp tomato paste
2 bay leaves
5 allspice berries
1 tsp caraway seeds
Salt and pepper to taste
2 tbsp vegetable oil
Instructions:
Prep Sauerkraut: Rinse sauerkraut to reduce sourness, drain, and set aside.
Cook Meats: In a large pot, heat oil over medium heat. Brown pork cubes and bacon, then add sausage. Remove meats and set aside.
Sauté Vegetables: In the same pot, sauté onion and garlic until soft. Add mushrooms and cook until browned.
Combine Ingredients: Return meats to the pot. Add sauerkraut, fresh cabbage, apples, tomato paste, bay leaves, allspice, and caraway seeds. Pour in broth and wine (if using).
Simmer: Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Cover and cook for 2-3 hours, stirring occasionally. Add water or broth if it gets too dry.
Season and Serve: Taste and adjust with salt and pepper. Serve hot with crusty bread or potatoes.
Note: Bigos tastes better the next day after flavors meld.
Gołąbki: Wrapped Resilience
The simple, sturdy dish of Gołąbki, stuffed cabbage rolls, is one of Poland’s most well known dishes internationally. The name Gołąbki translates literally to “little pigeons”, possibly referencing the dish's shape resembling the bundled body of the bird, or perhaps an earlier, forgotten tradition of using pigeon meat in the stuffing. Whatever the reason for the name, the dish, consisting of boiled cabbage leaves wrapped around a filling of seasoned meat (usually pork or beef) and grain (often rice or barley), then simmered in a tomato or mushroom sauce, has deep roots in Eastern European peasant cooking.
Historically, the dish is a testament to frugality. The core ingredients, cabbage, grains, and affordable cuts of meat, were readily available to farm families. Cabbage, an easy-to-grow vegetable, could be stored for months, making it a reliable staple through the long, harsh Polish winters. The act of wrapping the filling in the leaves is an act of preservation, ensuring every valuable ingredient is utilized. This simple, hearty meal provided the necessary nutrients for a life of grueling physical labor in the fields. It was, and remains, a dish of necessity, passed down through generations, a symbol of the ability to make much out of little. The slow-simmering preparation, often done in communal ovens or over hearth fires, also speaks to the slow pace of rural life and the shared effort of the community kitchen. More than anything else, these cabbage rolls stand as a culinary monument to the resilience and enduring solidarity of the Polish peasantry, a connection made painfully clear during the pivotal 1937 Peasant Strike.
By the 1930s, Poland, only two decades into its renewed independence, was gripped by the global Great Depression. This crisis hit the agricultural sector, the foundation of the national economy, with devastating force. Falling international commodity prices meant Polish peasants, who comprised the vast majority of the population, were paid next to nothing for their harvests. As prices for agricultural goods plummeted, the cost of industrial products, tools, clothing, and machinery remained high, creating an unbearable economic disparity often called the "price scissors." Farmers were being squeezed into poverty while struggling to pay taxes and debts.
Politically, as mentioned in the last section, the country was ruled by the authoritarian Sanacja regime, established by Józef Piłsudski and continued by his successors. The government was seen as unresponsive, urban-centric, and actively repressive of political dissent. The peasant movement, historically strong, found its voice in the Stronnictwo Ludowe (Peasant Party). By 1937, with their economic situation dire and political avenues blocked, the party organized a momentous, non-violent protest: the Great Peasant Strike.
Starting in August 1937, the strike involved millions of people across Southern and Eastern Poland. It wasn't a factory walkout; it was a mass act of economic non-cooperation and civil disobedience. Peasants refused to sell their produce to urban markets, effectively withholding the food supply to the cities. Crucially, they also blockaded roads and railway lines, using their bodies and farm implements to prevent the transport of goods, thus enforcing the strike's will across the countryside.
The government responded with brutal force. Police and military units were deployed to break the blockades. The repression was swift and deadly: the conflict resulted in dozens of peasants killed and thousands arrested. Despite the violence, the strike held for ten days, a powerful demonstration of organized, rural solidarity. Though the immediate political gains were minimal, the government did not fall and no quick economic relief followed, the strike was a psychological victory. It showcased the immense power of the peasant movement, strengthened its political will, and forged a network of community resilience that would prove critical a few years later when Poland faced the far greater enemy of Nazi and Soviet occupation. It was a clear, unified voice demanding fair valuation for their labor and democratic rights.
For ten days, millions of peasants were engaged in an intense effort: either actively blockading roads or supporting the activists in their communities. They were away from their daily chores, often gathered in groups at checkpoints or communal homes. During this period of self-imposed isolation from the market economy, they relied entirely on homegrown staples. The stored cabbage and preserved meat used to make Gołąbki were precisely the ingredients that allowed strikers and their families to eat heartily without breaking the strike by buying provisions. It was a dish that could be cooked in large quantities and shared easily at the centers of the protest, the rallies, the blockades, and the homes of the organizers. The density of the ingredients provided long-lasting energy needed for the exhausting effort of maintaining the blockade and enduring police confrontation.
The 1937 Peasant Strike, though immediately costly in lives and arrests, forced the Sanacja government to acknowledge the profound economic crisis and the political maturity of the peasant movement. The strike’s unity and organization became a lasting asset, foreshadowing the crucial role peasants would play in the Polish Home Army and the resistance movement during World War II.
One thing I found when making Gołąbki, the cabbage rolls are much hotter than you anticipate when you roll them. Keep that in mind!
Gołąbki (Cabbage Rolls)
Cabbage leaves stuffed with meat and rice, baked in tomato sauce.
Ingredients (Serves 6):
1 large head of cabbage
500g ground pork or beef (or mix)
1 cup cooked rice
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 egg
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp black pepper
1 tsp paprika
2 cups tomato sauce
1 cup beef or vegetable broth
2 tbsp butter or oil
Instructions:
Prep Cabbage: Remove core from cabbage. Boil whole head in salted water for 10-15 minutes, peeling off softened leaves. Trim thick veins from leaves.
Make Filling: Sauté onion and garlic in butter until soft. Mix with ground meat, cooked rice, egg, salt, pepper, and paprika.
Assemble Rolls: Plac e 2-3 tbsp of filling on each cabbage leaf. Fold sides in and roll tightly.
Bake: Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Place rolls seam-side down in a baking dish. Mix tomato sauce with broth and pour over rolls. Cover with foil.
Cook: Bake for 1.5-2 hours until tender. Serve with extra sauce spooned over.
Kotlet Schabowy: The Defiant Cutlet
The kotlet schabowy, a slice of pork loin, pounded thin, breaded, and fried, is the Polish version of the schnitzel, a Central European staple. Though frying meats dates back to medieval kitchens, the kotlet schabowy as we know it took shape in the 19th century, when pork replaced beef and veal as the everyday meat of Poland’s working families.
Unlike the more complex, aristocratic French-influenced cuisine, the kotlet schabowy is straightforward, a meal that could be prepared quickly with common ingredients (pork, flour, egg, breadcrumbs, and lard or oil) and provide maximum protein payoff for hard labor. In peace, it was a Sunday family dinner. In war, it became something rarer and more defiant, a taste of home preserved even as the Nazis tried to erase it.
The Zamość region (or Zamojszczyzna) in Eastern Poland was a flashpoint of resistance due to its designation as the first pilot territory for the German colonial program, Generalplan Ost. The Nazi vision was to ethnically cleanse the area, home to fertile black soil and strategically close to the Soviet front, of its Polish and Ukrainian population and replace them with German settlers (Volksdeutsche). This process, initiated in November 1942, was known as the Zamość Action.
The scale and cruelty of the deportations were immense. Over 110,000 Poles, including 30,000 children, were forcibly removed from approximately 300 villages. Entire communities were loaded onto cattle cars and sent to concentration and extermination camps, such as Auschwitz and Majdanek, or forced labor in Germany. The children, many separated from their parents, became known as the "Children of Zamość," a haunting symbol of Nazi barbarism.
The response was not submission, but an immediate and fierce armed resistance. The Polish underground, primarily the Home Army (Armia Krajowa, AK) and the Peasants’ Battalions (Bataliony Chłopskie, BCh), mobilized to protect the threatened villages. The partisans were overwhelmingly local peasants, farmers, and rural workers, men and women who knew the dense forests and treacherous swamps of the region intimately. This was a war for their very survival, their ancestral land, and their cultural heritage.
The fighting lasted for months, peaking in the winter of 1942–1943. Partisan units engaged in fierce skirmishes, ambushes, and raids, often facing heavily armed SS and Wehrmacht units. Key actions included the Battle of Wojda and the Battle of Zaboreczno, where hundreds of partisans, vastly outnumbered, engaged in pitched battles. Their primary objective was to disrupt the deportations, provide protection for the villagers, and attack the German logistical and administrative centers.
The sheer scale and persistence of the uprising, involving thousands of committed fighters and supported by the overwhelming majority of the civilian population, forced the German administration to divert significant military resources. Although the expulsions continued in some form, the uprising ultimately slowed and partially derailed Generalplan Ost in the region, saving countless lives and preventing the full-scale Germanization of Zamość before the Soviet advance began in 1944. The Zamość Uprising stands as a testament to the defiant spirit of the Polish peasant class, who, with minimal supplies and facing certain death, chose to fight rather than flee.
In a landscape of extreme food scarcity, where German requisitions and the disruption of the war machine made grain and standardized rations rare, the peasant partisans relied on what they could produce or secure locally. The pig, or hog (świnia), was a fundamental part of the rural Polish economy. Raising a hog was a quiet, but necessary, act of economic self-sufficiency. A slaughtered pig provided a substantial protein boost, with the prized loin cut reserved for the schabowy. For the partisans, a meal featuring a kotlet schabowy was not a common occurrence but a rare, vital caloric surge; the perfect high-energy fuel for a night of raiding or a grueling march through a snowy forest. It represented the last, best product of their own land, eaten in defiance of the enemy who sought to steal that very land.
The Zamość Uprising ultimately succeeded in its primary goal of frustrating and slowing the full implementation of Generalplan Ost in the region. The sacrifice of the partisans and the suffering of the deported cemented Zamość's place as emblematic of Polish national tragedy and resistance.
When cooking, let the oil get nice and blisteringly hot prior to dropping the pork cutlet in the oil. It cooks fast, much faster than you might think.
Kotlet Schabowy (Breaded Pork Cutlet)
Poland’s version of schnitzel, a crispy breaded pork chop.
Ingredients (Serves 4):
4 boneless pork chops (about 150g each)
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 large eggs
1 cup breadcrumbs (preferably panko or homemade)
Salt and pepper to taste
1 tsp paprika (optional)
Vegetable oil for frying
Instructions:
Prep Pork: Pound pork chops to 1/4-inch thickness using a meat mallet. Season both sides with salt, pepper, and paprika.
Set Up Breading Station: Place flour, beaten eggs, and breadcrumbs in three separate shallow bowls.
Bread Cutlets: Dredge each pork chop in flour, dip in egg, then coat with breadcrumbs, pressing gently to adhere.
Fry: Heat 1/2 inch of oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Fry cutlets for 3-4 minutes per side until golden and cooked through (internal temp 145°F/63°C).
Serve: Drain on paper towels. Serve with mashed potatoes, sauerkraut, or cucumber salad (mizeria).
Pierogi: Sealed Determination
Pierogi, Poland’s most beloved dumpling, date back to the Middle Ages. Traditionally boiled pockets of unleavened dough filled with cabbage, potatoes, or cheese, they became staples of both Polish peasant tables and Jewish shtetls alike.
For centuries, pierogi were associated with celebrations and communal life, with different fillings marking various holidays: cabbage and mushrooms for Christmas Eve, or sweetened cheese and fruit for summer feasts. Crucially, they became deeply ingrained in Polish-Jewish cuisine. Simple, inexpensive, and endlessly adaptable, they were a perfect, filling meal for working-class families in the densely populated shtetls and urban Jewish quarters across Eastern Europe. The most common and enduring fillings, potatoes, cabbage, cheese, or simple kasha (buckwheat) were made from humble, readily available, and storable ingredients. This reliance on basic, storable components would prove tragically essential to its symbolic function decades later in the hellish confines of the ghetto.
In the ghetto, pierogi in their traditional form were impossible. But families recreated them in spirit, makeshift dumplings of smuggled flour, potato peelings, or ersatz cheese, sealed pockets of survival crafted from whatever scraps could be found.
The history of the Warsaw Ghetto is a study in calculated cruelty and unimaginable resilience. Established by the Nazis in November 1940, it forcibly confined over 400,000 Jews from Warsaw and surrounding areas into a tiny, sealed area, where they were systematically starved and subjected to disease. By 1942, mass deportations, the chilling beginning of the "Final Solution", had already taken the lives of hundreds of thousands, with over 300,000 sent to the Treblinka extermination camp during the Grossaktion in the summer of that year. The ghetto's population plummeted from over 400,000 to barely 50,000 survivors, who recognized with chilling clarity that their fate was sealed.
This realization sparked the organization of the armed resistance. The most prominent group was the Żydowska Organizacja Bojowa (ŻOB), or Jewish Fighting Organization, led by the charismatic Mordechai Anielewicz. This group, alongside the smaller Żydowski Związek Wojskowy (ŻZW), or Jewish Military Union, was comprised mostly of young, working-class socialists and left wing Zionists, people who had grown up on the simple fare of pierogi and kugel. They had few weapons, minimal training, and no realistic hope of military victory; their goal was not to survive, but to die with dignity, to inflict a measure of punishment, and to send a message of resistance to the world.
When German SS forces, under the command of Jürgen Stroop, entered the ghetto on April 19, 1943, the eve of Passover, to liquidate the remaining population, they were met with organized fire. The ensuing Warsaw Ghetto Uprising lasted for nearly a month. Approximately 750 ill-equipped fighters held off thousands of SS troops, Wehrmacht forces, and collaborators armed with tanks, artillery, and flamethrowers. The fighters utilized homemade grenades, smuggled pistols, and their intimate knowledge of the ghetto's sewer system and bunkers. They fought from house to house, street to street, and bunker to bunker. Though the uprising was ultimately crushed with brutal finality, the Germans systematically burned the ghetto to the ground, block by block, it became an enduring symbol of working-class heroism and the indomitable human spirit in the face of systematic annihilation, inspiring anti-Nazi resistance globally.
The tie between the pierogi and the uprising is not one of abundance, but of metaphorical and practical survival.
Amid the starvation of the ghetto, food became a weapon and a currency. The Nazis ensured rations were impossibly low, but the residents survived through sophisticated smuggling networks, often involving children, and black-market operations that brought in flour, potatoes, and other basics. These smuggled items were the building blocks of any meal, particularly the simple, filling ones that could feed many people with limited ingredients.
The Warsaw Ghetto Uprising was brutally suppressed, culminating in the complete destruction of the ghetto and the death of its inhabitants, including Anielewicz and most of the resistance fighters. It was a military defeat but a profound moral victory. It demonstrated that even in the face of absolute power and organized evil, people could choose resistance over passive annihilation.
This section was particularly heavy, so no quips from the kitchen.
Pierogis (Dumplings)
Versatile dumplings with various fillings; here’s a recipe for pierogi with potato and cheese filling.
Ingredients (Serves 4-6, ~30 pierogis):
For Dough:
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 large egg
1 cup warm water
1/2 tsp salt
1 tbsp vegetable oil
For Filling:
500g potatoes, peeled and boiled
200g farmer’s cheese or ricotta
1 small onion, finely chopped
2 tbsp butter
Salt and pepper to taste
For Serving:
Butter or sour cream
Fried onions or bacon bits
Instructions:
Make Dough: Mix flour and salt in a bowl. Add egg, water, and oil. Knead into a smooth dough (about 5 minutes). Cover and rest for 30 minutes.
Prepare Filling: Mash boiled potatoes. Sauté onion in butter until golden. Mix potatoes, cheese, and onions. Season with salt and pepper.
Form Pierogis: Roll dough to 1/8-inch thickness. Cut into 3-inch circles. Place 1 tbsp filling in the center, fold dough over, and pinch edges to seal.
Cook: Boil pierogis in salted water for 3-5 minutes until they float. Optionally, pan-fry in butter until golden.
Serve: Top with melted butter, sour cream, or fried onions/bacon.
Żurek: Sour Strength
Żurek’s roots run deep into the medieval Polish countryside, making it one of the oldest dishes in the national culinary tradition. Its defining feature is its base: a sour liquid called zakwas, which is a slurry made from fermented rye flour and water. This simple, economical preparation links it directly to the food of the peasantry and the working poor, people who relied on hardy grains and preservation methods to survive long winters.
The zakwas is central to Żurek’s identity. The fermentation process not only preserves the rye but also gives the soup a distinct, tangy flavor profile that cuts through the richness of any additions. While modern recipes often call for smoked sausage, boiled potatoes, and hard-boiled eggs, the core ingredients were historically those most easily accessible and storable: a bit of grain, water, and whatever scraps of preserved meat or garden vegetables were available. This adaptability made it a fixture in rural kitchens and a nourishing, cheap source of sustenance for Poland’s burgeoning industrial working class in the 19th and early 20th centuries. It was the quintessential "poor man's soup". In a nation often partitioned and subjected to foreign rule, Żurek was an unbroken, consistent piece of Polish identity, a dish that transcended borders and regimes through its sheer simplicity and enduring presence in the diet of the masses. But during the sixty-three desperate days of the 1944 Warsaw Uprising, this humble soup evolved from a rural staple into a potent symbol of urban survival and working-class resistance.
The catastrophic Warsaw Uprising was a monumental act of defiance against Nazi Germany that began on August 1, 1944. After five years of brutal occupation, during which Polish civilians were subjected to mass executions, forced labor, and systematic cultural annihilation, the Home Army (Armia Krajowa), the underground resistance movement loyal to the Polish Government-in-Exile, made a fateful decision. Poland’s communists had set up their own “Polish Committee of National Liberation”, with different plans for a postwar Poland than the government-in-exile had. With the Soviet Red Army rapidly approaching the Vistula River on the eastern side of Warsaw, the Home Army launched a full-scale insurrection. The primary goal was to liberate Warsaw before the Soviets arrived, allowing a sovereign Polish authority to greet the "liberators". The Polish resistance desperately sought to avoid the fate of other Eastern European nations, and establish a sovereign Polish nation in line with the one that existed before the war, before one could be established by the Soviets and Polish communists.
The uprising was a massive, popular event. While led by the Home Army, its ranks swelled immediately with over 200,000 participants, including countless civilian volunteers. Factory workers, laborers, students, engineers, and ordinary men and women transformed their city into a fortress. They erected hundreds of formidable street barricades, defended key positions, and established an improvised, functioning administration within their liberated zones. This working-class and civilian participation was the heartbeat of the resistance. People who had spent their lives working in Warsaw’s industrial and manufacturing centers now used their skills to construct defenses, repair weapons, and maintain essential services under constant bombardment.
However, the gamble failed catastrophically. The Soviet forces, who were within striking distance of the city, halted their offensive at the Vistula. Whether due to strategic necessity or a deliberate political maneuver, Joseph Stalin effectively abandoned the Polish resistance. Many believe he viewed the non-communist Home Army as a political threat to its postwar plans for Poland, even as . Left alone, the Home Army and the civilian population faced the full, brutal might of the German war machine. The Nazis responded with overwhelming firepower and horrifying brutality. For 63 days, the city became a battleground of unimaginable ferocity. Supplies of food, water, and medicine dwindled to nothing, and the Germans executed civilians indiscriminately in mass terror killings. The uprising ended on October 2, 1944, in total defeat. Following the surrender, the Germans systematically leveled the city, turning 85% of its buildings into rubble and expelling the entire remaining population. Over 150,000 Polish civilians lost their lives, a massive demographic and cultural wound that defined postwar Warsaw.
The link between the working-class staple, Żurek, and the working-class uprising is one of survival and identity. As the insurrection continued and the German counter-attack intensified, the need for communal, sustainable sustenance became paramount. Warsaw’s neighborhoods were cut off from each other, forcing residents to rely entirely on what could be salvaged or produced locally. The improvised administration rapidly established communal kitchens (kuchnie powstańcze) to feed the soldiers and the civilians huddled in basements and sewers.
In this environment of severe food shortages, Żurek became an essential ration. Its core ingredient, the sour zakwas made from rye flour, was a foundational element of the Polish diet and was relatively easy to prepare and preserve, even in a besieged city. While the soup’s typical additions, sausage and egg, quickly became luxury items, the fundamental, austere version of Żurek sustained life. It was a dish of endurance, providing necessary calories and a measure of warmth and familiarity in a terrifying world. The fact that its base was a fermented grain was a powerful, if subconscious, nod to the enduring, peasant, and proletariat spirit that fueled the fight. The people who ate it, the factory workers manning the barricades, the laborers digging trenches, the women cooking and nursing the wounded, were the same people who had always relied on this economical, hearty soup.
The resolution of the Warsaw Uprising was devastation, but the legacy of Żurek as its culinary symbol remains one of fierce pride. The uprising failed in its immediate military and political objectives; it was brutally crushed, and the city was utterly destroyed.
Yet, the memory of those 63 days of audacious, working-class defiance has fundamentally shaped modern Polish consciousness. The sacrifice cemented the Warsaw Uprising as a national icon of martyrology and sovereignty. The destruction of the city was a physical annihilation, but the spirit of resistance, symbolized by the humble provisions that kept its fighters alive, was preserved.
Żurek has a flavor I have never encountered before. Its sour cream
Żurek (Sour Rye Soup)
A tangy, fermented rye-based soup, often served with sausage and egg.
Ingredients (Serves 4-6):
1 liter zakwas (fermented rye starter, see note or store-bought)
1.5 liters water or chicken broth
300g smoked sausage (kiełbasa), sliced
200g bacon, chopped
1 large onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 medium potato, diced
1/2 cup sour cream
2 bay leaves
5 allspice berries
1 tbsp dried marjoram
Salt and pepper to taste
2-4 hard-boiled eggs, halved (for serving)
Fresh dill or parsley for garnish
Note: To make zakwas, mix 1 cup rye flour with 2 cups warm water and a garlic clove in a jar. Cover with a cloth and let ferment in a warm place for 4-5 days, stirring daily.
Instructions:
Cook Base: In a large pot, fry bacon until crispy, then add onion and garlic. Sauté until soft.
Add Ingredients: Add sausage, potato, bay leaves, allspice, and marjoram. Pour in water or broth and bring to a boil.
Add Zakwas: Slowly stir in zakwas and simmer for 20-30 minutes until potatoes are tender.
Finish Soup: Mix sour cream with a ladle of hot soup to temper, then stir into the pot. Season with salt and pepper.
Serve: Ladle into bowls, add a halved egg, and garnish with dill or parsley. Serve with crusty bread.
Comments
Post a Comment