Its 34°C and I'm making Piragi.
We're not Latvian but they're a family tradition, stemming from the childhood days when my grandfather's companion would spend the entire day in the kitchen making batches for her grandchildren and for us. As the festive season approached my cousins and I would be rationed these delights, vying with each other for the victory of gaining the last ones remaining on the plate.
Since Silvija's passed away, it has been my sister who has taken up the recipe and dedicated the time and effort to create these memorable mouthfuls for our family and for my Grandfather. They're not difficult, at least not compared with the other traditional dishes we know and love. Its just that when you're making them in the heat of an Australian summer you realise they really were created for a country that is used to the bitter cold of winter, where the heat of the kitchen was a welcome relief from the realities outside.
The recipe we've inherited calls for scalded milk, a moderate oven in action the majority of the afternoon and the elbow grease to knead, cut and press these little buns into shape. In the heat of summer though, iced water and exhaust fans are as much a necessity as the oven.
The past two years I haven't been home at Christmas or Easter when my sister has made the effort to make these Bacon Buns. This year however she has migrated to Germany and so the duty falls to me, so, with fading memories and several versions of the recipe I'm attempting to retain family tradition.
How did I do?
We're not Latvian but they're a family tradition, stemming from the childhood days when my grandfather's companion would spend the entire day in the kitchen making batches for her grandchildren and for us. As the festive season approached my cousins and I would be rationed these delights, vying with each other for the victory of gaining the last ones remaining on the plate.
Since Silvija's passed away, it has been my sister who has taken up the recipe and dedicated the time and effort to create these memorable mouthfuls for our family and for my Grandfather. They're not difficult, at least not compared with the other traditional dishes we know and love. Its just that when you're making them in the heat of an Australian summer you realise they really were created for a country that is used to the bitter cold of winter, where the heat of the kitchen was a welcome relief from the realities outside.
The recipe we've inherited calls for scalded milk, a moderate oven in action the majority of the afternoon and the elbow grease to knead, cut and press these little buns into shape. In the heat of summer though, iced water and exhaust fans are as much a necessity as the oven.
The past two years I haven't been home at Christmas or Easter when my sister has made the effort to make these Bacon Buns. This year however she has migrated to Germany and so the duty falls to me, so, with fading memories and several versions of the recipe I'm attempting to retain family tradition.
How did I do?
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