Varenyky z Kvasoleyu (вареники з квасолею, bean dumplings)

The filling looks almost too plain to trust: pale beans, slow onions, black pepper, oil. Then the onion smell changes from sharp to sweet, the beans take it in like warm earth takes rain, and suddenly this is not a poor thing at all. It is a late-winter dumpling, made when the cellar is low and the body wants food that stays with it.

These are Lenten varenyky, so the fat matters. Unrefined sunflower oil carries the sweetness of the onions and gives the filling its roundness without butter or pork fat. Mash the beans while they're still warm, not to a puree, just until they hold together and keep a little grain under the tooth. That texture is the dish.

My grandmother Vira would have said the dough should feel like an earlobe, which sounds ridiculous until your hands understand it. Roll it thin, fill it generously but not greedily, and seal each dumpling with calm fingers. If one opens in the pot, fish it out and call it the cook's portion.

Serve a lot. Varenyky are never really made for one person, even when one person eats the leftovers cold from the fridge with a spoonful of smetana and no witnesses.