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<noinclude>{{data|27 kwietnia 1 May 2020}}</noinclude>

Andrzej Szylar (pronounced ''{{small|AHND}}-zhey {{small|SHIH}}-lar''), a chef who happens to hail from that city, was kind enough to comment on my post, providing some interesting additional information about the seasonings used in the original recipe for PS2. And in February of this year (before the pandemic had reached Poland) I finally visited Szczecin to take part, on Andrzej's invitation, in a culinary event called Night of Herring Eaters. I used the occasion not only to eat some herrings prepared in a myriad of ways, but also to finally sample the PS1. So now it's time to update that original post with new knowledge and new experiences.

Tomek showed me the way to the Pasztecik fast-food bar at 46, Polish Army Avenue (al. Wojska Polskiego 46), where the oldest Soviet-made PS1-frying machine in Szczecin is still operating. Inside the joint stood long tables decorated with vases plastered with stickers commemorating the bar's 50th birthday last year. It was late, the machine was already off, but there were still some PS1s left. I ordered two meatless ones, one with egg, the other with mushroom filling, and a plastic cup of hot clear borscht to wash them down.

What were they like? I had known that PS1s were made from deep-fried yeast-raised dough so they couldn't have been like the puff-pastry ''paszteciki'' I'm more familiar with. But I must admit I was still surprised by their fragrant spongy cake-like interior hidden beneath a very thin crunchy crispy skin. In my opinion, their name, "''paszteciki'' " or "little pies", is somewhat misleading. I would rather describe them as elongated savoury doughnuts.

I've already written about the West African dish, allegedly called "chop-chop", which inspired the recipe for PS2. I've also written about "pima", the "very hot spice" that was commonly added to that dish, as well as about my suspicion that it was really nothing more than ''piment'' or chili pepper in French. But Andrzej added to this his own memories and conclusions which I would like to share with you:

Whether "pima" is a loanword from Portuguese or French (I'm going with the latter, for phonetic reasons), there's no doubt that it's a kind of chili pepper. All species of pepper belonging to the genus ''Capsicum'', including bell peppers and chili peppers, come originally from the Americas. But when once Columbus had made his discoveries, the Europeans liked found these peppers so much appealing that they started to grow them everywhere wherever they could. The Portuguese developed one of the hotter varieties and grew them throughout their vast empire, from Brazil, where it's still known as "''pimenta malagueta''", to Mozambique, from where it's spread all over Africa under the name "piri-piri".

It's this "Nigerian pepper" that was a mystery to me for a long time. I had a few guesses about the exact identity of this spice, but couldn't settle on any of them. One of the suspects was Ashanti pepper (''[https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piper_guineense Piper guineense]''), also known as "West African pepper" or "Guinea pepper". Closely related to [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piper_cubeba cubeb pepper,] it was very popular in Medieval Europe, but is today largely marginalised to West Africa. Another possible candidate I was thinking of was [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grains_of_Selim grains of Selim] (''Xylopia aethiopica''), a spice that taste tastes similar to pepper and hence is known as "Ethiopian pepper", "Senegal pepper", "Guinea pepper", "African pepper" or even simply "Negro pepper". Could this latter name have been interpreted in Poland as "Nigerian pepper"?

So I thought that maybe "Nigerian pepper" didn't refer to a single spice, but to a whole mix. But was it made fromA mix of what exactly, though? Well, [[https://www.amazon.co.uk/African-Sun-Pepper-Soup-Pack/dp/B00KLD1FBO you can buy it on Amazon,] which means you can also go there to read the list of ingredients:

| Nigerian pepper is most likely the same as Guinea pepper, also known as African pepper or grains of paradise. It has been, for a long time, appreciated by the Africans, who had learned to use it long before the hot pepper was brought from America. They used it to season their soups, sauces and other dishes of breathtaking pungency. Especially that the spice was first roasted for an even hotter flavour. {{...}} Coming back to the paprykarz [PS2], the mysterious spice is probably a mixture of Guinean Guinea pepper and paprika.

And so, PS2, a Polish canned spread inspired by a Senegalese dish, but named after a Hungarian stew, was made from scraps of Atlantic fish, Bulgarian tomato pulp and seasoned with ''melegueta'' aka a.k.a. Guinea or Nigerian pepper, as well as with ''malagueta'', introduced by the Portuguese from the Americas to Mozambique… It would be hard to find a more cosmopolitan food than this fish paste which somehow only tastes good when you're hikingoutdoors.

And for the encore a few words about the main reason for my first-ever trip to Szczecin. The Night of Herring Eaters (''Noc Śledziożerców'') is an event that has been held three times a year (on the months whose Polish names start with an L, that is, February, July and November) for at least eighteen years at Na Kuńcu Korytarza restaurant in the old castle of the dukes of West Pomerania. It's basically a potluck supper where each participants participant brings his or her own herring dish and says a few words about it while others listen and eat. There's no grading or ranking, just contemplation of the unassuming but delicious silvery fish.

My first (and, hopefully, not the last) time there was on the last Monday before this year's Lent, which also happened to be my birthday. Bread sticks, dumplings, sour rye-meal soup (already mentioned in [[Epic Cooking: The Last Old Polish Feast#Soups|my last post]]), a dessert – these are just a few of the delicacies, all of this featuring herring, I could sample there. But let me focus now on what I brought to the table.

The other concoction was more in the realm of historical reënactment, similar to what I once did when writing about [[Genuine_Old_Polish_Bigos#Recipe|genuine Old Polish ''bigos'']] (without sauerkraut or meat). This time it was a herring-and-gooseberry ''bigos''. I used salted pink herrings that I soaked milk before chopping them up and marinating in vegetable oil with a selection of spices (black pepper, allspice, cloves, cumin, mustard seeds, coriander, bay leaves, dill, all ground in a mortar). Then I combined them with gooseberry gooseberries stewed in olive oil with onions, green pepperpeppercorns, sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg. I'm convinced the experiment was a successful one and me may be repeated in the future.