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Bruce | Mar 31, 2000 04:44 PM

In upstate Binghamton, N.Y., with old neighborhoods of deep Eastern European tradition, the Lenten season means pirohi (or pierogi, or get the idea). Parish churches rely on their pirohi fund-raisers to meet the year's plans. But it's about the pirohi: each sculpted by hands that've been making them for 50, 60 and more years; boiled to a fare-thee-well, they're the size of a large Roma tomato or a "Hello, my name is..." tag. Slathered in"onion" (read: butter-sauteed onion chunks w/ butter gravy), they're more that worth the 20 min. wait in line at the parish social hall("sorry, only 1 dozen per take-out--others want some, too"). Come join me on any Friday until Easter for lunch. Nothing exotic; just pure, plain and well done (potato or cabbage filled).

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