Paczki Season!

Man, something I love about America is that we can pick and choose different ethnic traditions that we like and keep them as our own--kind of like the buffet at Furr's Cafeteria.  Yes, I'll have three starches, but hold the green beans.

Hamtramck is less than an hour from us, and with Ethan's love of all things Polish thanks to his mission, and with my recent discovery of John's Polish ancestry, it's fun to pretend that I'm a Pole for the day and claim my paczki!  (As a side note, many others who are obviously not of Polish descent--I'm speaking to my chocolate-skinned, ghetto brothers--also like to claim this tradition, but when they exit out of the bakery announcing that they have their POO-SKIES, they are quickly corrected by those who actually know and have the custard and fruit-filling running through their veins.)

This year, my birthday fell on the weekend of the Paczki run, a 5K that winds through the very flat streets of Hamtramck, ending with free paczki and beer for every finisher.  Not knowing that Ethan would be here until a few days before, and knowing that John would be on call, I didn't bother to pre-register.  However, after arriving at 10 p.m. on Friday night, Ethan announced that he would like to do the run the next day, so it was a go!

We got up early Saturday morning although if I'm being honest, it wasn't unbearable early.  Thankfully, not much else is every going on in Hamtramck, so hosting a race that begins at 10 a.m. isn't really a problem.  We arrived at 8:30, found a parking spot on the street, went and registered, got a shirt (and bought three more for $10 because who doesn't want a shirt with actual paczki pictured on it?!), went back to the car to drop off everything, and went back to the start of the race.

If we could have eaten him, we would have!

There was a very crabby mayor, Karen Majewski, whom the announcer just couldn't get into the spirit of things.  She "thanked" the runners for shutting down her streets, and when the announcer mentioned the nice sunny weather,  she just complained about how cold it was (he countered by mentioning the weather from last year which was in the single digits).  Ethan gave the biggest eye roll of his life while flashbacks to every crabby Pole he ever spoke to danced like sugarplums in his head. But holy smokes, they played a recording of the Polish national anthem before the race began, and I was happy that I had jokingly played it at home while getting ready, because I would have felt awkward not knowing exactly when to sing "polski" (the one word I could recognize).  But to their credit, there were people in the crowd who actually knew the words!  (When Ethan came home, he looked up the anthem which is hilariously titled, "All is Not Lost", a fitting title for anything related to Polish history.). Then the national anthem, and we were off.

When I say that it was an easy race, you know it was an easy and fast race.  Both John and Ethan breezed through it, as did one of my temple friends.  I decided to run the first mile, knowing that I shouldn't because I've been having disc problems in my back, and by mile two, I couldn't feel the bottom half of my left leg.  It was a surreal experience to make the effort to lift my thigh, and then then hear my foot slapping down.  By the time I finished the race, I knew I was in trouble, and sure enough, I was in terrible pain the rest of the day and for a few days after.  Just goes to show--those orthopedic surgeons know what they're saying!

To the racer go the spoils!

We sat on the curb and ate paczki.  There were thousands of them at the finish line!  Who knows what flavor each were?  People certainly didn't care, because we saw people going home with their pockets stuffed with them, and even carrying plastic grocery bags with at least a dozen.

This race was rife with sponsors, and I was determined to take advantage!  There was a sklep (a Polish shop) that offered a free package of pierogi with any purchase.  When we walked in after the race, it was wall-to-wall people, but John and I left Ethan there to get us some kielbasa and pierogi.

We went to get the car, but it just so happened that the macaron shop was along the way...and they were offering a free macaron to anyone who showed up with their race bib.  Well, John and I each got a macaron, ate it in the car, and couldn't even get out of our parking spot before we knew we needed to go back.  I dropped him off, he went in and bought a dozen of the most beautiful cookies, and we went onto the sklep.  Ethan came out with several Polish juices, a pound and a half of kielbasa, and three packages of pierogi!  I'm happy to report that he also cooked all of those for us over the next two days, and they were delicious!

Cheese, enjoying the juice that he was
supposed to bring home to Rebecca...

So Tuesday rolled around.  I guess paczki is served on "Fat Thursday" in Poland, but here in America, it's Fat Tuesday.  Who knows?  I wanted him to have the full experience of waiting in line for fresh paczki, because if I'm being honest, those thousands offered at the race were obviously made in advance, and fresh paczki are a completely different animal...or pastry.  Beth wanted to come as well.

We left at 9 a.m. (after Beth got her kids off to school).  Last year, the line was about two hours long, but it was also 17 degrees and windy outside.  Tuesday broke with weather in the high 30s.

It was really touching to talk to Beth about her Polish ancestors as we drove along with Ethan's very current perspective about Poland.  In fact, after we had parked, we found this mural, and Ethan knew immediately where it was, and when I sent the picture to Rebecca, she knew too! So cute! #Krakow

The line

I completely skipped The New Martha Washington Bakery and went straight to the big boy, The New Palace Bakery.  The line actually didn't look too long, extending down the street and wrapping around the corner, but it was.  However, standing in line with two of the people with whom I feel the most comfortable and who can carry the conversation themselves and stay happy and upbeat?  It was the best.  In fact, the Amicci pizzeria sat between the end of the line and the bakery, so after waiting in line for an hour, I gave Ethan the credit card and told him to go get us a pizza.  Just a small one.  Something that would warm us up and that we could snack on.

Beth was so cute, just standing there for hours with Ethan's cute scarf on.

Well remember those sponsors?  One of them was the Amicci pizzeria, and they had a paczki special--one XL pepperoni pizza for $8.00!!  Yes!  We waited ten minutes, and Ethan went back in.  I swear, the Poles know how to do it.  When I used to go on bus trips to Poland for pottery, nothing tasted better at the end of a 24 hour trip than Polish McDonald's.  And pretty plain ordinary pizza while standing outside in the cold for hours?  #Heaven!

Yep, wall-to-wall people!

When we finally got in the bakery, we took a number and waited another hour.  However, that time went by quickly too because it's fun to look at the signs with all the flavors posted, and rethink exactly what you want, and cheer on everyone who is finally walking out, boxes in hand.  As we got nearer the counter, I could hear different accents, but leave it to Ethan to see one woman that he swore was Polish, ask one of the American girls if she was, and then start speaking to her in Polish!  Oh my gosh, so much fun!

In the end, I brought a half dozen home for my friend, Jennifer, and I brought two dozen home for myself.  I dropped Cheese off at the airport to fly home, and besides his suitcase and backpack, he had a Paczki race poster that the woman at Amicci's had given him, as well as a dozen paczki.  Will I go again?  If someone wants the experience, YES!

It's best to go with a list of exactly what you want and how you want it boxed.  The people who stood there at the counter, asking questions, and deciding then? UGH!