Ponitka's Pierogi by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Meanwhile, the actual Polish background locals in the corner watch with the expression of people witnessing a controlled demolition of their dignity.

The food arrived. The pierogi flight is presented on a wooden board shaped like the outline of Poland, but missing Silesia due to a manufacturing error. Each pieróg is labeled with a tiny flag.

"Traditional."

"Very Traditional."

"Grandma Level."

"Experimental - Eat at Own Risk."

The libby family eats with reverence, nodding solemnly after each bite as if evaluating a wine tasting.

The mother whispers; "It's so ..... grounded."

The father adds; "You can taste the history."

The kids are too busy trying to win the Treasure Hunt, which involves locating a hidden pieróg with a plastic coin baked inside. The winner gets a coupon for 10% off a future visit, which the parents immediately declare "a great incentive to come back."

As they leave, the father claps Ponitka on the shoulder and says; "This place is going to be huge. You're onto something."

Ponitka, who has already realized that non-Poles love this place precisely because it is wrong, nods with prophetic confidence.

The Libby family walks out glowing, convinced they have participated in a meaningful cultural exchange.

The Polish background locals silently pray for a zoning violation.

The libby Americans refrain from any negative or borderline commentary primarily because it's confusing, in that they are not comfortable with that which could be viewed as analogous to the US black experience; but it’s too hilarious to deny. Actual Poles hate it because it's wrong. Third generation Poles hate it because it feels like a parody of their grandparents. Polish bathroom re-modelers hate it because of the ridiculous pricing.

Pitkin loves the whole thing, especially the games because they're "brand forward." He says things like; "This is experiential dining! We're creating a cultural ecosystem! Families will drive from three counties over!" He's the only person who doesn't notice that the games are empty, sun faded, and vaguely unsettling.

Ponitka was more elated than the day he hit the buzzer beating three in the playoffs, that not much of a large charge as misunderstood by the volume of non-players, his a career that was respectable but not sufficiently lucrative coupled with a lifestyle calibrated to NBA money that no longer existed. UNTIL NOW. And even better, while still on a growth pattern that was nowhere near peak.