Muza

Mrs. K would approve of this Polish eatery's pierogi, and so do we

by Margaret LeRoux

Muza 103 Water Street, Worcester 754-7660 Mon.-Sat. 8 a.m.-9 p.m., Sun. noon-9 p.m. No credit cards Full bar Handicap accessible

I first encountered Polish food at the kitchen table of my friend Tom's mother, who lived in Elizabeth, New Jersey. Mrs. K is a precise cook who enjoys explaining her recipes to an appreciative audience of her son's non-Polish friends. After teaching me the correct pronunciation of pierogi (puh-doe'-gee) and golabki (guh-wum'-key), she served a platter of dumplings that looked suspiciously like large, cheese ravioli, and a plate of cabbage rolls similar to my own mother's "pigs in a blanket." The tastes, of course, were quite different. Cheese pierogi may resemble the cheese-filled pasta made by my brother's Italian grandmother-in-law, but the filling -- farmer cheese and onions -- is not the same as the ricotta, basil, and garlic mixture with which my Grandma Mortarellli used to stuff her ravioli. And my mother's Midwestern-influenced cabbage rolls featured tomato soup instead of the stewed tomatoes Mrs. K chose to keep her golabki from sticking to the pan.

It's been interesting to witness within my own family such literal expressions of the melting-pot theory of immigrant assimilation. My informal culinary education has certainly been enhanced by the lessons I've learned at the dinner table with friends and relatives. I've always been fascinated by the similarity of some foods -- dumplings, for example -- despite the nationality of the cook who's preparing them.

All of this is a roundabout way of introducing Muza, a Polish restaurant and bar where a friend and I ate recently. Muza occupies the site of the former Eden Bar -- after it moved to Water Street. It hasn't quite shed the trappings of the former occupant -- a pool table dominates the front; a huge bar is clearly the focal point of the room. During the day Muza is a quiet spot where you can fill up on platters of pierogi and kielbasa while watching Polish-language TV on the set that hangs over the bar. At night, the bar is packed and the stage in back -- complete with disco ball -- features live music.

"I always wanted to own a Polish nightclub and restaurant," co-owner Andy Olewinski says. With Muza, whose name he translated as "a nice, quiet place to relax and meet new people," he and his partner, Tadusc Leoniak, got their wish.

The lunch and dinner menu is fairly limited: seven Polish specialties, and, to accommodate American tastes, chicken wings with French fries ($4.95), pork chop with mushrooms ($5.95), and an assortment of sandwiches. On Fridays, fish and chips ($5.95) are served.

Muza is open for breakfast with the standard eggs-and-bacon fare; but on Thursdays you can get potato pancakes with sour cream ($3.50).

On our visit, we were greeted warmly by the waitress, who doubles as the cook. She patiently explained the unfamiliar items on the menu and answered all our questions.

We were determined to sample as many Polish dishes as we could and chose one of the house specialties, a platter described as stuffed cabbage (Muza forgoes the Polish nomenclature), Polish meatball, kielbasa, cabbage, and rye bread ($6.95), as well as an assortment of pierogi ($4 for eight). We had cheese, cabbage, and beef pierogi. There are also pyzy ($3 for three) described as a potato dough stuffed with meat and cabbage, cabbage soup ($2), and beef stripe soup ($3), which Olewinski later confessed was a disguised description of its main ingredient, tripe.

While waiting for our food, I talked to my friend about Mrs. K's description of "what makes a pierogi a pierogi." The most important quality is their lightness, she said. "They should be tender, not heavy."

She would have been pleased with Muza's cheese pierogi -- filled with a mixture of farmer cheese and onions fried in butter until they're caramelized. We thought they were wonderful; so were the cabbage pierogi, which contained finely chopped cabbage and more onions. The meat pierogi, though tasty, fell flat on texture. The filling was so finely chopped it was hard to tell just what it was.

Our favorite among the other Polish specialties were the cabbage rolls. The leaves were tender and chock full of ground meat, onions, and rice. The cabbage served alongside was similar to bigos, or Polish hunter's stew, a mixture of pork, sausage, onions, and cabbage, cooked till tender in a tomato sauce. This, too, was delicious. The only disappointment was the kielbasa, which was unmistakably from Hillshire Farms. When I asked Olewinski about it later, he explained that usually Muza's kielbasa is homemade but that "the lady who makes it has been in the hospital." He promised the genuine kielbasa would be back on the menu soon.

We intend to return and try it.

Our bill, including soda and coffee, was $13.55.