Traditional polish Easter soup żurek. Photo by Anatoly Repin (Adobe Stock #95992115).
Introduction
In the United States, the most iconic examples of polish food are surely kielbasa and pierogies, though both are both slightly misleading. Kiełbasa (pronounced “kyewbasah”), for one, is simply the Polish word for sausage, of which there are enough varieties to fill an entire deli counter! The word pierogies, in turn, will sound funny to Polish ears, because pierogi is already plural, vs. the singular pieróg. This redoubled plenty seems appropriate enough, however, given how difficult it would be to eat just one such treat. Both pierogi and kiełbasa, as well as a variety of other deli products, are staples in contemporary Poland. Despite their “traditional” status, both are also part of a vibrant culinary culture that indulges in fusion experiments, resulting in such delicacies like “gołąbki-stuffed pierogi,” or pierogi stuffed with… stuffed cabbage (which is by itself another Polish staple)! While the variety of kiełbasa and pierogi available these days might exhaust even a determined foodie tourist who aims to conquer the Polish menu on a trip to Poland, the history of Polish cuisine is richer and more diverse than its two most famous exemplars.
Polish smoked meats. Photo by JacZia (Adobe Stock #224151467).
Old Polish Traditions in the Kitchen and at the Table
Poland, situated geographically at the crossroads of Europe and Asia (historically, located much further east than it is today), is often pitied for its vulnerability to invasion from powerful neighbors. In terms of food culture, however, this location has been a boon. As the authors of Old Polish Traditions in the Kitchen and at the Table remark, “We have good reason to suppose that spices appeared very early on the Polish table. Many ancient trade routes ran through Poland, connected with such centres rich in spices as Rome and Byzantium” (20). A Spanish-Jewish merchant traveling in Poland in the 10th century, for example, “was surprised to see great supplies of pepper, ginger, cloves and other spices, which, as he said ‘grow only in the farthest East’” (Lemins & Vitry 20). Much like spices that made their way to central Europe though trade depots in medieval Poland, pierogi travelled from Asia (what we call dumplings in English). It’s not clear if this stuffed delicacy came via a southern route, from Marco Polo’s Italy, or from the East, either via the Tatars or the legendary Jacek Odrowąż, who is said to have first tasted them in Kyiv. In her cookbook Pierogi, British-Polish food writer Zuza Zak considers both routes possible, but also suggests that these iconic dough containers may well have been independently developed by industrious cooks and housekeepers in various parts of the world. Gołąbki (stuffed cabbage rolls) are another Polish food “tradition” that owes much to East-West trade roots. In Turkish cuisine, for example, lahana sarması is almost a dead ringer for the cabbage roll Poles know as gołabki—meat rolled in cabbage leaves and served with a tomato sauce.
Gołąbki, or stuffed cabbage rolls. Photo by myviewpoint (#236090829).
Food historians will of course remind us that cuisine was a classed undertaking, meaning that the lavish tables set for kings differed from the daily fare of both the gentry and the peasants. Bolesław Chroby (Bolesław the Brave; c. 967 – 1025) hosted the Holy Roman Emperor Otto III (980 – 1002) with such relish that by the end of his visit in 1000, Otto named the Polish king a friend, and an alliance was struck. Political historians might question the persuasive power of imperial taste buds, but we contend that a feast is a diplomatic masterstroke. Nevertheless, Old Polish Traditions argues that gentry and rich peasants alike enjoyed a relatively diverse diet. Looking into a larder several centuries ago, “There would probably be several kinds of kashas [groats], wheat and rye flour, peas, broad beans, hemp oil, dried and pickled mushrooms, salted and smoked beef and pork, frequently game, cold meats, pork fat, cheese, butter, eggs, honey which was used for sweetening, mead, and wooden barrels of light, refreshing beer” (19). Though Poland, given its climate, is not commonly associated with wine, grapes for wine production are known to have been cultivated in the 12th century near Kraków, though production remained limited. Beer, however, has long been a favored beverage, served even to the delight of Pope Clement VIII (1536 – 1605). He visited Poland in 1588 and purportedly later asked for Polish beer from the Warka brewery on his deathbed (Lemnis & Vitry 23).
The medieval Polish kitchen also “included fresh and picked cucumbers, carrots, fresh cabbage and sauerkraut – the old Polish favorites – turnips, garlic, and onions” (Lemnis & Vitry 19). The 16th century Italian-born Polish queen, Bona Sforza (1518-1557) is often credited with introducing vegetables to the Polish diet, but food historian Jarosław Dumanowski notes that much of the exotic fare associated with Queen Bona, like “cauliflower, broccoli, asparagus, artichokes, cardoons and capers,” were known in Poland before her arrival, though at that time, considered luxury foodstuffs (Dumanowski as quoted in Kucia).
The title page of Czerniecki’s Compendium.
Queen Bona was but one of many Italians who travelled to Renaissance Poland, bringing new customs and flavors to the Commonwealth. Following on the culinary developments of the Renaissance, the Baroque period yields the Compendium Ferculorum, Poland’s oldest cookbook, penned in 1682 by Stanisław Czerniecki, the master chef at the court of the influential Lubomirski magnate family. Anyone planning a wedding for 15,000 can also consult Czerniecki’s notes on catering the 1661 wedding that joined the Lubomirski and Potocki families. During the weeklong affair, guests consumed among other delicacies: “1,500 ducks, 120 pigs, 30 piglets, 300 hares, 200 smoked beef tongues, 12 pots of capers, and 50 pots of olives” (Lylo).
The Polish Holiday Table
Not every special occasion is celebrated quite so lavishly, but to this day, Polish wedding feasts and holiday tables are laid out with abundant dishes. Christmas is an especially interesting culinary occasion, because the main feast, on Christmas Eve, is traditionally Lenten. The lack of meat, however, is hardly a hardship. The wealthiest tables were set with 12 course meals of soups, various pierogi, mushrooms, and many types of fish. The meal commonly begins with a serving of red barszcz (known as borsch in English), a spicy and clear beet broth eaten with mushroom-stuffed uszka, or ravioli. Carp (pike), served in a variety of styles, is unequivocally the Christmas fish, but śledź (pickled herring), also served in a variety of ways, is likewise a Christmas favorite (and served regularly throughout the year). Makowiec, a rolled yeast dough filled with poppy seed paste, is one of the most iconic Christmas deserts, one that augurs plenty for the coming year. Luckily, these delicious rolls are available in Poland’s many neighborhood bakeries year-round.
Uszka, or Polish tortelini, served in barszcz. In the background, we see more pierogi, all staples of the Christmas Eve table. Photo by zi3000 (Adobe Stock #179293864).
The Easter table also has a distinctive set of dishes, which all begin, of course, with the Easter basket. Unlike American Easter baskets, which are filled with sweets and chocolates, the Polish Easter basket or święconka (translates literally to “the blessed”) is decorated with ornamental chicks and rabbits, but also features boiled eggs, a cooked garlicky pork sausage known as biała (white) kiełbasa, fresh bread, salt and pepper, and perhaps a babka cake. The eggs can be died a deep red by boiling them in water with onion skins; decorated eggs are known as pisanki. After being blessed in a Catholic church on Easter Saturday, these baskets are brought home and shared to break the Lenten fast. In addition to the foods already listed above, Easter is known for another kind of barszcz, barszcz biały (white). Unlike its red beety cousin, barszcz biały and the similar żurek, are soups made with fermented wheat flour (barszcz) or rye (żurek) and served with biała kiełbasa, mushrooms, potatoes, eggs, and perhaps bits of bacon.
Herbs and Mushrooms
An introduction to Polish food culture would be remiss without mention of the Polish love of herbs and mushrooms. Herbs, especially herbal teas, enjoy long-standing respect as natural remedies derived from folk medicine. Pharmacies for example, stock herbal and medicinal teas, tisanes, creams, balms, and salves, and pharmacists are well versed in the uses of these items. In the socialist period, the herbal industry became closely tied to the brand Herbapol, then a nationally operated enterprise, now split into several smaller companies under the same name. In addition to a wide range of fruit, herbal, and medicinal teas, Herbapol also makes fruit and root syrups, jams, and these days, even sodas. It may surprise our readers that bars are one of the places in which such syrups are most often encountered. Poles like to drink their beers, usually lagers, with a dash of ginger or raspberry! Syrups also work well in black tea, or herbata, which Poles drink in amounts that rival British tea culture. Adding these sweet decoctions to tea is historically linked to treating maladies, especially colds.
A basket full of mushrooms foraged in the forest. Photo by Agnieszka Witczak (Adobe Stock #70475205).
Like herbs, which are viewed as bounty from nature, mushrooms have a wild vibe. Undoubtedly, many people buy mushrooms in grocery stores (often pickled or dried), but many Poles still venture out into forests to go mushroom picking. Grzybobranie, as this activity is known in Polish, is a serious business, best undertaken with quiet focus (unless we’re talking about the children’s board game of the same name, in which case, raucous energy is required). Borowik szlachetny (porcini) is the most prized find, though when they come into season in the summer, kurki (chantarelles) are also wildly popular. Fried in just a bit of butter with chopped onions, kurki are easy to prepare and melt in your mouth. Beware, however, of the muchomor (fly agaric), because these psychedelic fungi might cause you serious harm!
A Note on Milk Bars & Froggy Convenience
Polish schnitzel, or kotlet schabowy, with potatoes and mizeria, or a cucumber and cream salad. This typical afternoon meal is now served at restaurants and milk bars, but is also a comfort food in the average Polish home. Photo by robert6666 (Adobe Stock #324007050).
Milk bars, or bary mleczne, are not, as the name suggests, watering holes that trade in milk instead of alcohol. Now mostly a vestige of the culinary past, these cafeteria-style locales were once a key social institution. The first milk bars were opened in the late 19th century to cater to workers who needed to eat hearty but affordable meals. Since meat was expensive, milk bars specialized in dairy-based cooking, providing protein-rich dishes at lower cost. In the socialist period, milk bars were subsidized and understood as integral elements of a socialist economy, guaranteeing workers convenient and well-priced food. Instead of eating a light meal at noon, followed by a hot dinner in the evening, throughout the 20th century Poles ate obiad (a hot meal) in the early afternoon. Those who could not get home at around 4 pm would have to rely on work cafeterias or milk bars for this fare. In times of plenty, in addition to their dairy-based dishes, milk bars also served popular meat dishes, like kotlety schabowe (sznitzel) and kotlety mielone (meatloaf served in patties). When economic crisis hit in the 1970s and 1980s however, food was rationed and many items were hard, if not impossible, to come by. The 1981 Polish comedy Miś (Bear, dir. Stanisław Bareja) illustrates, with some exaggeration, how desperate and crude eating at milk bars had become. In the clip (linked here with subtitles), patrons alternate eating with spoons chained to the table and the waitstaff screw plates into tables to prevent theft. Dining may not have been quite as grotesque as the film suggests, but for much of the socialist period, food was as much a source of sustenance as anxiety. Empty shelves were common sights and Polish cooks had to become inventive to feed their families.
Hot dog from Żabka. Photo by Alicia Baca.
These days, some of the old-style milk bars still exist. There are in fact several in downtown Warsaw, revamped with more fashionable interior decor; they remain cheap but are now much less busy than modern restaurants. The easiest place to grab a snack, however, is no longer a milk bar, but rather, a Żabka, which translates as “froggy,” a convenience store franchise that has become ubiquitous in Poland in recent years. Its long business hours, uncommon for Polish grocery stores, make it easy to grab the necessities (like a little tub of matjes herring!) even late at night. And if you’re feeling peckish on the run, the Żabka hotdog is a convenient solution. The best groceries, however, are still to be had in specialized stores. Every neighborhood boasts several small bakeries, butcher and deli shops, and green grocers.
For further reading on this topic, visit the Introduction to Poland Resource Guide.