Yankee
Magazine Article |
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| Almost 20 years later,
Jean Suzor recalls the dream as if it happened last
night. "I was driving down this road and up ahead I
saw a roadblock. I got closer and saw it was a pile of
pierogi as high as I could see. Pierogi were on my left,
pierogi were on my right. I said to myself, 'I'm not
getting out of here.' The next day I came to work and
told them my dream. They said, 'That should tell you
something.'" The vision came to Jean during a temporary job pinching pierogi at Millie's Pierogi in Chicopee, Massachusetts. That job has now become her career - she's the plant's supervisor and most experienced pincher - and pierogi dreams come to her regularly. Little wonder, when you consider that Jean daily oversees the production of 1,300 to 1,500 dozen of the doughy Polish delicacies for groceries, caterers, restaurants, and hospitals throughout Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island. In fact, Millie's is one of the largest pierogi producers in the Northeast and one of the few in the country that produces them totally by hand. The hands of Jean Suzor are small and strong. She rubs a few aching joints that have borne years of pinching millions of flattened circles of dough around balls of cabbage, cheese, potato, or prune filling. "An occupational hazard," she says, seated in the plant's locker room. She's enjoying a rare break: You don't rest much when you're one of the company's prize pinchers. Two Septembers ago, she postponed foot surgery to be free to work the annual World Kielbasa Festival just across the Chicopee River. "I worked without a shoe," she says proudly. "My doctor just shook his head. But Millie's needed help, and I get a kick out of it when people come up and ask, "Can I have a pie-ro-gie?' They pronounce it different ways, but they always say, 'Mmmm, these are good.'" Jean herself discovered the versatile treat at a fair. After eating three pierogi sauteed in onions and butter, she was hooked. She found herself driving into Chicopee every Sunday for a dozen. Then two dozen. Then she got the job. When most workers are having morning coffee, Jean pops down a few cabbage pierogi. She needs them to carry her through the fair season in the fall, the Easter season (when business traditionally doubles), and the endless pinching of the Christmas season, when orders triple or quadruple. At the end of every day, she smells like cabbage. "It's no big deal," she says. "My husband got used to it. In fact, he's now the cabbage preparer at Millie's." "I guess I must like it here," Jean concludes, "which is good, because remember, I'm not getting out of here." Then she heads off through the swinging doors, where a sign reads, "Wash your hands and let's get pinching." - SUZANNE STREMPEK SHEA |
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