Today was a family-oriented day. We headed out to the Polish festival happening on Roncesvalles. Being that there were four of us in total trying to get ready and out the door, it took a fair bit of time. Having barely eaten anything, in anticipation of eating some good Polish grub, I was voraciously hungry by the time we got there. (Biking there, so did not help with the hunger pangs, also biking in jeans=awful). It was decided we would go to Chopin Restaurant, and by decided I mean I got vetoed and outvoted. Hell bent on having some good perogies I did not complain too much about the decision for I remembered Chopin still appeared on the best perogies in the city list. However when we got there, we had to wait. It was a good 15 minutes of standing and watching smaller parties pass us because there was only room for two people or so, but finally we were led to our table. It did not take us long to decide what we were having. Thankfully Lucy was also ordering perogies so I would be able to try two different varieties, meat and cabbage.
We then waited a long time before any food came out. By long, I mean 30 minutes. Camilla’s and my mom’s dishes came out first, not surprising given they ordered the same thing, breaded pork chops. Another ten minutes and the waitress brought out Lucy’s plate of perogies. I sat there. Hungry. No food. I had resorted to eating off my mom’s plate, stealing bits of pork chop and when Lucy’s plate came I made an offer of trading some of my meat perogies (you know, if they ever arrived) for some of her cabbage ones. And finally! Lo and behold, a giant tray of perogies for the hungry one! Oh how I rejoiced! They were so nicely presented! I was so hungry!
And then I bit into one. It was half-frozen in the middle. It was the (Polish) store-bought kind, I am about 94.5% sure of this. Not that those perogies are bad, but I can eat those at home. Hell, I spent a good half my childhood eating those. And they do not hold a candle to truly homemade perogies (my mom’s especially). If I am going out to a restaurant to eat and then having to wait half an hour for my food, I at least expect it to be of great quality. I even found a cheese perogie hiding among my meat ones. I did not complain or send them back because 1.) I was hungry, 2.) I did not feel like spending another half hour in there waiting some more and 3.) it was supposed to be a nice Sunday afternoon dinner and I simply did not wish to spoil it.
On our way home I could not resist stopping to get a churro. I indulged in a Spanish treat only because Granowska’s was sold out of pączki (what do you expect at almost 6 in the afternoon on a Sunday during a street festival?). It was OK, tasted like cake-type confection. Now I know, curiosity abated.