10 Hidden Pierogi Spots In Pennsylvania That Taste Like Home

Pennsylvania cradles pierogi like sacred dumplings of destiny. They’re everywhere if you know where to squint, nestled in corner delis, scrawled on chalkboard menus, dozing inside church basement freezers.

These aren’t your trendy food truck impersonators. These are soft pillows of nostalgia, sautéed in butter and onions, unapologetically carb-heavy and often suspiciously underpriced. Each shop on this list serves something that hums with memory, like a recipe passed between generations in a whisper.

If your grandma wore an apron and frowned at margarine, these ten spots might feel a little too emotional to eat cleanly.

1. Pierogies Plus, McKees Rocks (Pittsburgh Area)

Red awning, beige building, industrial side street. Looks like a place where secrets get exchanged for ziplock bags of cheddar and sauerkraut.

The potato and cheese pierogi are soft enough to make your jaw go quiet. Butter-slicked, onion-smothered, and totally inappropriate for a first date.

Started by a former steelworker who leaned into dough instead of despair. You can buy them frozen or hot, but either way you’ll probably leave whispering, “I need more bags.”

2. Inna’s Pierogi Shop, Lititz (Lancaster County)

Faded brick out front, embroidered lace inside. There’s a clock that always runs slow and smells that make your eyes pause.

Dough is rolled with ceremony. Fillings include farmer’s cheese and peach, depending on the day’s mood. The mushroom version tastes like wet forest dreams.

Inna left Ukraine with three suitcases and a rolling pin. You order at the counter, no menu needed. Locals know to ask what’s warm. Visitors learn to stop speaking and listen.

3. Forgotten Taste Pierogies, Wexford & Moon Township

Fluorescent lighting. Slight echo when you order. Feels like your dentist quit and opened a dumpling shrine instead.

The jalapeño-cheddar pierogi slaps harder than expected. Buffalo chicken is confusingly good. Traditionalists may cry, but modern mouths cheer.

Started in 2004 by folks tired of frozen sadness. They’ve since expanded, but not emotionally. Best eaten while parked outside, fogging your windshield with regret and glee.

4. Cop Out Pierogies, Etna (Pittsburgh Area)

There’s a chicken statue inside, and the wall menu talks like it has opinions. Customers laugh too loudly for a Tuesday.

Over 50 pierogi flavors cycle in and out like a soap opera cast. Reuben, crab, spinach-artichoke. You will feel fear. Then you will eat.

Owned by a retired cop who polices dough instead of crime. Cash is faster. Don’t argue with the fridge labeled “DO NOT TOUCH.”

5. Mom-Mom’s Kitchen, Northeast/Philly & South Street window

Takeout window shivers in winter. The Northeast location smells like someone’s aunt is always cooking something you’re not allowed to see.

Their pierogi lean into the Polish-American soul: buttery, dense, and kissed with sour cream. Cheesesteak and kielbasa varieties don’t ask for permission.

Run by grandsons resurrecting a grandmother’s recipes. South Street version is compact, theatrical, and ideal for late-night dumpling therapy.

6. Czerw’s Polish Kielbasa, Port Richmond (Philadelphia)

Walk through a meat portal into the coldest room in Philadelphia. The pierogi are secondary only to the gravity of kielbasa.

They make their own dough, dense and elastic. Potato-onion, cabbage, prune. Yes, prune. Don’t flinch.

Family-run since 1938, which means they’re older than your dad’s regrets. You’ll stand in line with three generations of people who already know what you don’t.

7. The Pierogie Kitchen, Roxborough (Philadelphia)

Wooden counter, hand-scrawled signs, and employees who look like they know secrets about your childhood.

Bacon cheeseburger pierogi sound illegal but aren’t. The crabby cheese pierogi tastes like a summer boardwalk fell into a skillet.

This is a storefront turned sanctuary. You can buy by the dozen, frozen or fresh. They sell pierogi t-shirts. Don’t act surprised.

8. S&D Polish Deli, Pittsburgh Strip District

Flags overhead. Pierogi under glass. The scent hits first, soft and sour like a cabbage lullaby.

Hot options rotate, but the potato-cheddar stays locked in place like a golden statue. Onion topping is aggressive and proud.

This is the kind of deli where nobody’s in a rush but everyone’s holding a fork. Nearby shops whisper, “Go ahead, we can wait.”

9. Black Forest Deli, Bethlehem (Lehigh Valley)

Pink stucco outside, cozy chaos inside. There’s a handwritten menu and a child drawing unicorns on a napkin dispenser.

The pierogi are pan-fried with garlic butter and sometimes joined by kielbasa or sour cream so thick it holds shape.

The owners host themed dinners, fundraisers, and spontaneous emotional support therapy disguised as lunch. Come hungry and open-hearted.

10. Pizza Heaven, Luzerne (NEPA)

Strip mall parking lot, glowing sign, no subtlety. The kind of place that does everything and somehow does it well.

The pierogi pizza is half carb joke, half divine intervention. Mashed potato base, cheddar on top, onion whispers underneath.

Locals order it without irony. Outsiders question it until bite two. The staff will not explain. You’ll have to learn the hard way.