How to make Varenyky (Ukrainian Dumplings)

I usually try and do a cooking class in every country I go to. So far, I’ve learned how to make curry in Sri Lanka, sushi in Tokyo, and watched my mam get told off for not listening by an Italian grandma. However, I’ve never had a cooking class one to one. That changed when I had a go at making traditional dumplings with Alisa in Kyiv. I had been excited about the class since my first taste of Varenyky, along with some other traditional(ish) Ukrainian dishes on Monday. I’m happy to say the class didn’t disappoint!

How do you make Varenyky?

So, the recipe is actually Alisa’s family secret that she learned from her grandma at 7 years old. So, it wouldn’t be really fair if I plaster it all over the internet. What I can say is that the dough for these delicious dumplings is made up of kefir, salt, sugar, and flour. Then, some more flour. And after you’re done with that, add a smidgen of flour. I even coated my apron in flour for luck, but that didn’t really work out. There are a number of traditional fillings for varenyky, we used one savoury (mashed potato) and two sweet (cherry and blueberry).

After kneading this mess for quite a while and getting some of the moisture (but not all) out of it, we used a rolling pin to flatten balls of dough into small circles. When you’ve used up all the dough, place a circle in your left hand and put some of the filling in the middle. Then, fold it over the filling and press it into a parcel. If it’s a sweet dumpling, add a teaspoon of sugar too. At this point, Alisa showed me another of her family secrets which was folding the outer edge in a way that she said you wouldn’t find in any Ukrainian restaurant. All I know is that I couldn’t do it, so it must have been witchcraft.

The last step was boiling the varenyky. You can steam them too, but that takes longer. And since I’d had a debacle in the post office and arrived 15 minutes late to the class, we definitely didn’t have time to spend on that. So that the savoury dumplings don’t stick together, they’re coated in butter and placed into a heavy, covered pot before being served with sour cream.

First course of varenyky read to eat.

More than just cooking and eating…

As cooking classes go, this one was short and sweet. Although Alisa said that her classes were more fun if there were a group, it was great getting one to one attention (which I definitely needed, even for a relatively simple dish) and getting time to chat about stuff other than cooking. I definitely learned more about Ukrainian culture! For example, you don’t just take one varenyky on your plate, you take four or five, otherwise you’re shy. I wasn’t opposed to that.

We even talked about Chernobyl, as Alisa had been a schoolgirl in Kyiv when the disaster happened. Although the capital is 2 hours’ drive from Chernobyl, it affected her in the following days, leaving her feeling sick and woozy. The scale of the disaster had been played down, so many of Kyiv’s children were playing outside when toxic radioactive metals started to fall on the city. If that’s not bad enough, most people were outside for Labour Day celebrations.

Overall, learning to make varenyky was a cool way not only to cook a tasty Ukrainian dish, but a fun insight into this country’s fascinating culture too.

Thank you, Alisa!