You’ll step into a real Warsaw home for hands-on pierogi making with a local host, taste homemade liquors on a rooftop terrace overlooking the skyline, share laughs over appetizers, and swap stories about Polish life. This isn’t just cooking — it’s being welcomed into someone’s world for an afternoon you’ll remember long after you leave.
Yes, it takes place in the host's apartment with a rooftop terrace overlooking the Warsaw skyline.
Yes, homemade liquors, beer, wine, soda, coffee and tea are included during your experience.
You can choose from sauerkraut with mushrooms, meat, potatoes & cheese, salmon & ricotta, spinach & feta cheese, or sweet seasonal fruit options.
Yes—just let your host know if you have allergies or dietary needs before starting.
The maximum number of participants is ten per session.
Yes—the apartment is wheelchair accessible and service animals are allowed.
If you’re more than 15 minutes late your class may be cancelled without refund—please arrive on time.
Yes—everything you prepare is yours to enjoy during the experience.
Your day includes all ingredients for pierogi making (with several filling choices), use of aprons and kitchen tools, welcome appetizers with your choice of homemade liquors or soft drinks throughout the class, plus coffee or tea afterwards—all enjoyed either inside or out on the rooftop terrace depending on weather and mood.
You walk in and there’s this gentle clatter from the kitchen — our host, Marta, already rolling dough and waving us over like we’re cousins late to dinner. Her apartment smells like warm flour and dill. I didn’t expect the view: you look out from her rooftop terrace and Warsaw just sprawls out below, glass towers mixed with old brick. We started with little plates of pickles and smoked cheese, plus a shot of her cherry nalewka (that’s homemade liquor — sweet but it hits). I tried to say “na zdrowie” right but Marta laughed anyway.
The pierogi class itself was… well, messier than I thought. My dough stuck to my fingers, but Marta showed me how to fix it — “more flour, always more flour,” she said. We filled some with sauerkraut and mushrooms, others with potato and cheese. She let us pick fillings; someone asked for spinach and feta, so we made those too. There was this moment when everyone went quiet, just pinching dumplings together while the sun slipped behind the Palace of Culture outside the window. Kind of peaceful actually.
Afterwards we carried trays up to the terrace (weather held out — lucky) and ate together. The city lights started flickering on below us. Marta poured another round of her homemade liqueurs — plum this time — and told stories about Warsaw’s old neighborhoods. She gave us tips on where locals eat pierogi (“not the tourist places,” she warned). By then it felt less like a class and more like hanging out at a friend’s place who really loves food. I still think about that view sometimes when I’m back home making dumplings that never quite taste the same.

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