When you ask most people their favorite holiday, Christmas is commonly brought up, but I rarely ever hear Christmas Eve as an answer. In my family, Christmas Eve is a whole separate holiday and has a special joy, excitement and remembrance that is different than Christmas Day.

Christmas Eve has all the hope and joy for Christmas Day. As a child, I would be so excited for Santa to come during the night and could not wait to see what he brought for me the next morning. I would change into my Christmas pajamas after having dinner in a fancy red dress and would not be able to stop smiling at the thought of Santa and Christmas morning.

Christmas Eve dinner is unique because it is the only time of year that we have pierogis. Pierogis are what I would call the Polish version of ravioli, except they have a thicker dough and different fillings. My grandma and I make both cheese and cabbage pierogis every year, and then my dad will fry fish with my uncle to go along with the pierogis.

One of the reasons why pierogis are so special to me is because it is a tradition for my grandma and I to make them together. Ever since I was a little girl, my grandma and I would set aside many hours a day or two before Christmas Eve to cook pierogis together. I would pull up a step stool to the kitchen counter and put on my apron ready and excited to cook.

I started out having the job of closing the pierogis with a fork around the edges after my grandma would fill them. I then graduated to being able to fill the pierogis. That was important to me because it was my grandma’s recipe that she had done for years and now, I had a bigger role in it. Now, I help with almost every aspect of the process, but my grandma is still the best at making the dough.

My grandma always tells me that it will be my job to continue making the pierogis every Christmas Eve when I am older and have my own family to keep the tradition. Each year, she shows me where the recipe book is and we go over the recipe so that I can make sure to master it like her.

Pierogis and Christmas Eve remind me greatly of my grandpa who passed away some years ago. He was the biggest fan of our pierogis. He would always sneak into the kitchen and try to steal some while we were cooking, and we would say that he was eating too many.

We made a rule that he could only eat the pierogis that broke when we boiled them, but he did not always follow that rule.

Sometimes my grandpa would break pierogis and say that’s how he found them, so that he could sneak a few more to have as a snack. I always think of him when my grandma and I share the broken pierogis and sometimes I’ll break one, like he would have, so that I can enjoy another in his memory.

Christmas Eve has a joyful and magical essence that no other holiday compares to in my mind.