Cepelinai

For my first blog post, I was thinking of dedicating it to all the best and essential Lithuanian dishes. However, as I was writing, I realized there was one dish that had a particularly special story, and couldn’t just be lumped into a group. This dish is called Cepelinai, and this post is just about it. 

Cepelinai for many means childhood. It means life and sustenance. It means family and love. Every Lithuanian kid has a story for Cepelinai. In the coldest and hardest months of the year, coming home to a plate of Cepelinai was  what you needed to get through the winter. Cepelinai signified it was the weekend or a holiday, since it was only ever made if there was an occasion to celebrate. Every Lithuanian kid has heard stories from their grandmothers about how they used to make them for their kids and families and how their grandfather could eat twelve at a time.  

This meal is arguably the most popular dish in all of Lithuania. Every restaurant in Vilnius advertises these balls of deliciousness on its street signs and is an absolute staple if you ever plan on visiting. Cepelinai, or didzkukuliai, are dumplings made from grated and boiled potato’s stuffed with ground meat and served with sour cream and fried pork rinds. There’s an intricate process involved in making them, and once you taste them, its as if you’ve been transported to heaven. Cepelinai is the ultimate comfort food of Lithuanian kids who are far from their home.   

In Lithuania, every mother teaches her children at a very young age how to make this meal. I remember going to the grocery store as a kid with my mama and her telling me we’d be making Cepelinai that night. I’d excitedly run to get the bag of potatoes and ask the butcher to pack us a nice piece of pork. We’d come home and I’d help her peel the potatoes, while she prepared the meat. I was by her shoulder every step of the way, ensuring I knew all the secrets and magic that came behind making this delicious dish. We’d shape the dumplings one by one, taking our time and putting all our tender love and care into the meal. I’d cut and fry the bacon or pork rinds, and before we knew it, the entire house was smelling of Cepelinai. She’d tell me to yell for my dad and brother, and I’d scream up the stairs so hard I’m sure the neighbors were tempted to come to our dinner too. They’d both come running down the stairs, the entire house shaking, and rush to be the first one to sit down at the table. Me and my brother would always fight about who got the first one.  My mama would spoon all the dumplings into our dishes, and we’d scramble to get the most bacon before everybody else took it all. We’d sit and eat, exclaiming every now and then how delicious it was. After stuffing ourselves silly, we’d do the dishes and lay on the ground next to our fireplace and watch a movie or fall asleep. Even though we don’t live in Lithuania, we still practice the same traditions as if we did. Every time we eat them it reminds me of home and the family I only get to see once a year.  

In Lithuania I also sit by my grandparents’ side and drool watching them make this dish. Even at 84, my grandmother makes them with the fervor and spirit she’s always made them with. This dish brings the entire family together. Whether some of us live 5,000 miles away in America, or a 20-minute drive away in the next town, it never fails to unite us.  

Whenever I come home from college to visit my family, my mother celebrates by making Cepelinai. Even though I live a little bit further away and am not the same kid as I used to be, the process has never changed. Everything remains the same, as if time never went anywhere. Each bite is like the first one. The smell is still the same. Me and my brother still fight over who gets the first one. Cepelinai is not something that keeps just our stomachs full, but our hearts full. There’s no other dish in the world just like it.