From Poland to Brooklyn, with Love

My husband informed me, in the most diplomatic way, that I was going to have to "cut back a bit" on my"cooking expenditures." Not something a lover of French foods and specialty ingredients likes to hear, to say the least. What, no black truffle oil? No oysters? Well, then I'll starve! (an obvious joke on so many levels) But my love for exotic mushroom blends and rare cheeses was going to have to be put on hold for a while. I was going to have to become more frugal. Just thinking about all of those noodles, those insipid potatoes...it filled me with sadness.

He told me to learn to be happy.

My grandmother left me with what she said were life's essentials: a reliable road map, and a good cast iron skillet. I was beginning to see that she was right. The map reminded me that all I needed to do was a little exploring, and some research. I don't want to sacrifice flavor, and I refuse to sacrifice our health, so I've turned to the past, as I am prone to do, to figure out a gourmet budget.

The first foods that came to my mind were cabbage, onions, and potatoes. Cheap, yes, but they can only take you so far. Where these ingredients did take me, however, was on a walking tour of my local Polish and Russian food stores. I live in an area of Brooklyn that is replete with ethnic diversity, with shops and restaurants to match. Walking south on fifth avenue from 72nd Street, I pass many Middle Eastern stores, Norwegian delis, Italian and Greek grocers and restaurants. I have overlooked, however, the Polish and Russain spots. On a snowy Sunday afternoon, with visions of pierogi in my head, I found them.

The Polish have a way of creating flavorful dishes using inexpensive ingredients. In February, I can't think of a more satisfying meal than a hearty bowl of hunter's stew and black bread with butter. I decided to try the local restaurant, Polonica, to sample some traditional fare before embarking on my own experiments. So, we faced down the cold wind and made it to the tiny eatery on Third Avenue. Inside the yellow warmth of a space that felt like a grandparent's living room, we were greeted by a gracious and friendly customer who offered up his table; an elderly man who was dining alone by the window at a table for four. The crowd was all Polish, so we were the only ones speaking English that night, except for an obliging waiter. We tried the kluski with meat and the Keilbasa, accompanied by a large variety of cabbage salads, sauerkraut, and a side of kasha. Huge portions meant lunch for the next day, and we totaled $26.00 in all. Now that's eating cheap in New York. We'll be back I'm sure, but I wanted to cook this food myself.

Inside a Russain foods store on 84th street, I discovered jar after jar of pickles, and an array of smoked fish. There were potato pancakes, cabbage salads and beets, kasha (buckwheat grains) and traditional rye bread. I rediscovered the pierogi, and found a nice selection of kefir. At the counter, pre-made ground chicken patties, sauerkraut-filled dumplings, and potato cakes smelled delicious. The kind man who ran the shop explained each item, and I wanted to sample them all (and did). Once home, having spent half of our average grocery bill, I set to making pierogi filled with mushrooms and cabbage, and others with potatoes and cheese. It's a wonderful fast food to have on hand, so I made a lot of them for the freezer. That evening, I broke out my grandmother's iron skillet. Sticking to the basics, I made a simple but savory dish of stewed cabbage, mushrooms, and onions with a large helping of another culture's invention: Middle Eastern Labne, which is a cultured cheese that is basically a cross between sour cream and cream cheese. (The Polish would use sour cream, so I suppose you can substitute, if you must.) It was so rich and satisfying, we were both surprised at how inexpensive and easy it was. Accompanied with an affordable table wine like this one, and maybe a slice of homemade Russian rye bread with nutritious grassfed butter, it is a frugal feast. You know I'm mad about feasts.

Full and delighted with my newfound vegetarian entree, I turned to Richard, 99 cent wine glass in hand. "I wonder what the poor people are doing tonight? Oh, right....that's us."

To make it yourself:

Cut up, just any old way, about a half a head of green cabbage. Dice two large portabella mushrooms or any variety you like, so that you have about a cup full. Slice a large yellow onion. Put the vegetables into a cast iron skillet if you want to add a small amount of iron to your food, or if not, use stainless steel. Add any fresh herb you like, but I prefer a few sprigs of thyme. Using at least a tablespoon of butter, sautee until soft, adding sea salt to taste. When the vegetables are cooked to your satisfaction, serve with a large dollop of labne, creme fraiche, or sour cream. Goes well with rye bread and a healthy spread of grassfed (local if possible) butter. Serves 2 adults.