perogis & pies

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03.19.2011 by Andrea

pierogi, pierógi, pyrogy, perogi.

However you spell it, it doesn’t matter. What I do know is that they are good. So good that I could gobble down some right at this very moment. I was introduced to perogis at the Irish Pub Dub Linn Gate. I’ve have been mentioning leading up to this entry that several of my friends and I are have been eagerly anticipating a cruise that is within days! Due to lack of weddings, no procreation, and the ability to forecast that the ship would be afloat, bahahaha, we booked this cruise over a year ago. In the interim we certainly couldn’t close out the 2010 holiday season, and wait 90 days without a trip someplace fun. Since we are headed South for our cruise, it seemed sensible to throw our Northern Neighbor a bone, and support Canada’s economy. Whistler, watch out! Mrs. W, my friend, plays on a volleyball team that has notoriously staged great vacations, whether it’s a camping trip or ice skating escapades, these people know how to have fun. It just made sense to merge the two groups for a weekend of shenanigans. If you haven’t had an opportunity to travel the Sea to Sky highway, do it. I am not Nature Girl, and even I can appreciate the beauty of this route.

I’m not a skier, ‘boarder, or really a snow bunny. My bucket list has “snowshoe somewhere picturesque” on the the to-do list, so I did purchase a pair of snowshoes this past season in hopes of breaking them in and drinking in all that Mother Nature has to offer during the winter months out here in the Pac NW. However, I did not pack my snowshoes this trip. I was looking forward to turning off my electronic leash and enjoying quality time with new and old friends.

It makes sense when you are in Whistler to swing by Earls. They serve my favorite pint of beer, it’s like a slushy lemonade, a nice ale that has a lemonade iceberg floating atop of it. Also, you can’t go to Whistler and not stop in at the Brewhouse. It’s nice to visit the favorites that always produce the same product, it’s even more fun to venture to someplace new. That’s what the Irish Pub was for us. I had been there to down a pint, or two, and dance, but I hadn’t sampled there menu. I’ve been missing out! The menu was so good that my new friend Z, and I, decided to conquer it by trying everything that sounded interesting. Not realistic, because we couldn’t narrow our top ten choices. So we opted to divide and conquer. It was unanimous, split an appetizer, order individual entrees.

Perogi. Wow. I could have ordered two more – full appetizers. They were so good. I had never had them before. My bride-to-be friend, K, told me the next week her mom makes homemade one. If these were superb, I can’t imagine a batch of homemade ones. They just melt in your mouth. It might have been because the first few were hotter than the heck.


Burning my mouth was worth it. They set the bar so high, I wasn’t expecting to experience the “wow” factor when my Guinness based Sheperds Pie arrived but, wow! If I thought burning the roof of my mouth was worth it for the perogis then searing my tongue and all my tastebuds to gulp this down was winning, duh!!!

I mentioned already that I didn’t have a massive caloric burn from zooming up and down the mountains that day. I had already munched my way through several tasty snacks. This pie was sizzling, in flavor and temperature. I talked it about for so long that Mrs. W made us an Italian version [sub pasta for the potatoes, add zucchini, peppers and some zesty spices] for Family Dinner.

Mrs. W made two casserole dishes of Italian Shepherds pie. While I don’t typically think of myself as a hoarder, I secretly was plotting a way to get some into a Tupperware container, into my car, and reheating it for lunch on Monday. Needless to say two Shepherds Pie within a month was pretty fantastic in my book.

Our trip to Whistler ended without any mishaps, always a good thing. I say it every year that I need to head up to Crystal or Snoqualmie, to get my feet wet, and learn how to maneuver down a mountain with style and grace. 2011 certainly wasn’t my year, but maybe if I promise myself a filling dinner at the Pub, I can make it happen in the future.

I’m calling it a wrap for the evening, March Madness games have wound down, the Bagel Bites on my plate have been eaten, and my glass of the Slammer, [a tasty Syrah], is empty. I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow night: breakfast for dinner, southern style.

Until next time, happy eating!


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