Of course it would be nice to think that 2 Polish brothers arrived in this country with nothing but their mama's pierogi recipe pinned inside one of their coats. And every night after closing the doors, they went in back and started spooning filling into fresh dough and gently pinching the little pillows closed until we bought them. Still...
I went in after leaving the office on Wed. and just before heading into that awful driving rain and buffeting wind to finish the holiday grocery shopping. There was only one table occupied and no line. I was tired, hungry, and burgeoning with a nasty cold.
At that point, I can honestly say that I have never been happier with anything that I lifted out of a foam clamshell container by a plastic fork to my mouth. I had mushroom and kraut, and meat, with that unctuous (yes, I said it!) sauteed onion/butter/bacon mix lightly spooned over it. (Now it's possible that with sauteed onions/butter/bacon spooned over it, I would have been equally happy to eat the clamshell container itself. But this is, as they say in "The Importance of Being Earnest," "clearly metaphysical speculation," and, as such, I leave the matter for French theorists to sort out. Back ih the realm of the vulgar and the empirical, it was delicious, wherever it came from and I look forward to trying the other varieties.
I did find the meat filling so finely chopped or ground that it looked more like tuna salad than meat, but it was flavorful and I had nothing against it.
The one small, and in its way charming, bump in the experience was when I had asked if I could split a half-dozen across 2 types. The counterman said yes, but when I presented him with my 2 selections he demurred because one of them was $5/dozen and the other was $4/dozen, and so he couldn't charge me either $3.99 or $4.99. I couldn't think of a non-snarky way of suggesting that he just charge me $4.50, so i changed my order.
On a side note, there seems to be a mini-trend in tiny, highly specialized storefronts with celestial aspirations. Not an hour after leaving Pierogi Heaven I found myself at Belmont and B'way entereing "Empanada Paradise." I had a mild but not bland meat empanada in which one could clearly make out meat, onion, gr. pepper, raisins and egg yolk. The seafood soup was pretty well ruined by large chunks of the worst Krab I've every tasted---like wet bread that had fallen in the soup by mistake. Had they left that out entirely, it would have been an acceptable $2.99 bowl of soup with some small mussles, a bit of squid and a bit of other fish with noodles.
The place was, as is the fashion now, small, bright, and very tidy and welcoming. The staff were a bit shy and uncertain but also eager and sweet. It wasn't till I left that I noticed that the menu from which i had ordered, which showed empanadas, soups and salads, was also printed on the other side with a large selection of sandwiches. The food photos made one uncertain as to whether things there were largely shipped in, like the frozen pierogi, or prepared more immediately. I certainly wouldn't mind a small investmwent in finding out. The prices being exceptionally cheap.
They also feature, on a rack at the back, Chilean olive oil in 2 varieties: medium, and "intense." The copy on the label of the "intense" oil is almost comical in its desire to frighten you out of buying it because it may be just too much for you. I was too busy to lug another bottle around at the time, but intend to give it a shot. They also sell sealed bags of carica fruit. I don't know it. They describe it as a heavenly cross of peach, mango, and pear. But since the label also listed sugar, citric acid and, I think, ascorbic acid, I wasn't sure just how much genuine carica flavor might remain.
Paradise Empanadas
3204 N. Broadway
773.472.6327
"Strange how potent cheap music is."