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November 3, 2004
In Search of Gnocchi
By LAURA SCHENONE
You can keep your macaroni and cheese, your mashed potatoes, and your diner pancakes with fake maple syrup, too. Oh sure, these are fine stick-to-the-ribs standbys. But they're too bland for me to rave about, too heavy to lift me up, and in recent years way too overrated as generic--say it with me now--"comfort food" to get all warm and emotional over. Give me a plate of homemade gnocchi instead. These sweet little dumplings-feather light when properly made-have me floating on clouds. All the better when dressed in a light tomato basil sauce with a sprinkling of parmesan cheese-or when made with a bit of chestnut flour and dappled in pesto. Some time ago, when I tried to make gnocchi, I failed miserably watching my dream dish turn to mush in water. I gave up for a time. But I have been in a gnocchi fervor of late-renewing my interest to get the technique right, savoring the steps, and reveling in a sense of comfort and warm feelings toward my Italian roots. That's what true comfort food should be, after all, shouldn't it? Food from memory. Food that is evokes emotions from the past. Food that is woven into your deepest sense of who you are and where you come from. Well, yes and no. In my case, the memory is somewhere in my DNA, not my own actual tastebuds. Gnocchi are made in many places throughout Italy, but the ones I have fallen for as of late are from the Italian Riviera--the region known as Liguria, left behind by my great grandparents long ago, when they packed up their children and took the life- changing journey to Hoboken, New Jersey. My great grandmother Adeljese Schenone-a legendary cook--carried Ligurian traditions to her American kitchen where she made ravioli, stuffed vegetables, pesto, pizza with onions, and pandusa, a Christmas sweet bread. But alas, these flavors are in the memory banks of my father's and grandfather's generation--not mine. Like many Italian Americans in New Jersey, my ancestors were eager for assimilation. They intermarried with the Irish who lived down the block. They forgot old recipes, or changed them when certain ingredients weren't available. They adopted time-saving efficiencies or creolized versions of Southern Italian dishes-reincarnated with large quantities of meat and cheese found in abundance in the new country. In recent years, I have embarked on an effort to reclaim some of my culinary roots. Gnocchi has been part of the search. It has taken some ingenuity since there are few family members left who remember the originals. So I have turned to my culinary mentors for help. I have called up distant cousins out of the blue. I traveled to the Italian Riviera and have borrowed other peoples' mothers to teach me how to make authentic Genoese dishes. I have consulted the classic Italian cookbooks written for Americans, and also old Genoese cookbooks written in Italian, which I am struggling to learn and translate. Many of these dishes are still a work in progress. But my gnocchi are finally coming out right. Not surprisingly, I have discovered is that the gnocchi you make at home and drop immediately in boiling water beats out any grocery store version and 98 percent-of what you'll find in restaurants. I have also learned that it's easy to make a basic potato gnocchi, so long as you obey a few essential rules and take some necessary steps. Of all the handmade pastas, this one is the most accessible to the ordinary cook and a very satisfying meal. Getting It Right The ingredients for basic potato gnocchi couldn't be simpler: just flour, potato, water, eggs, and salt. In the oldest versions, eggs were not included and in many cases still aren't. While an eggless dough makes the lightest possible gnocchi, the novice is likely to find dry and difficult to work with. Egg helps bind the ingredients together and gives a richer taste. And so in my preferred recipe, there are two eggs. As you become more confident, you may omit one egg if you like. You'll need a ricer-a simple and inexpensive tool--and some kind of surface to work on-a marble counter or wooden board are best. A basic dough scraper-also inexpensive and simple--is recommended, too. Once you get good at this, you can make a batch for four people in abut an hour's work time-perhaps a little more. All the better if you make it a weekend project and have a friend help. Of all the guidance I sought on gnocchi, the most helpful reference with basic technique was Lidia Bastianich's Lidia's Italian American Kitchen (Knopf, 2001), though I have changed some of her recipe-notably, microwaving rather than boiling the potatoes. After making many batches, I have come up with four essential rules that make all the difference between success and failure. Pay attention now:
Working with Your Hands There is a satisfaction in working with dough that most home cooks of our generation don't experience anymore. The trick to bringing back old recipes is mindset. Don't be overwhelmed by the project, rather, get it in your head that you're going on a journey back in time and enjoy the feel of the flour and the rare chance to manufacture something with your own hands. The lovely thing about gnocchi is that after you make your dough, roll it into ropes and cut your thimble-sized dumplings, you then get to imprint them with your thumb and the tines of a fork. (You can take pride in this unique shaping of your own hands, and this helps compensate for cleaning up the flour that you will invariably get on your floor.) These little grooves and indentations not only provide a human touch, but little places to catch the sauce, creating more flavor in each bite. The origin of gnocchi is tied up in the history of pasta, of course. Some scholars think that the Italian author Boccaccio was referring to gnocchi in his 1351 Decameron, in which he described the mythical city of Bengodi whose inhabitants rolled macaroni down a mountain of grated cheese. Gnocchi would have rolled nicely, after all. This is sleuthing work, best left to food historians. But if Boccaccio was indeed referring gnocchi, his were made of wheat flour without potato because this new world ingredient didn't come to Italy until after Columbus-and in the big ancient story of pasta is a relatively new addition. Variations Once you've mastered the basic potato gnocchi, you're ready for variations. In some parts of Italy, gnocchi are made with pumpkin. Tuscany has a version made with spinach. And in recent years, porcini gnocchi has become popular among chefs in New York. But my favorite variation by far is the one made with chestnut dough. The hills of Liguria are filled with chestnut woods, where I am told my great grandfather came from. For the poor and hungry, chestnuts provided a staple for nourishment and survival, roasted over fires and worked into bread and pasta to stretch precious wheat The 18th edition of La Cucinera Genovese (Genovese Cookery) by Gio Batta Ratto (originally published in 1863) gives a recipe for gnocchi that calls for half wheat flour and half chestnut flour. My great grandparents certainly ate this variety and certainly gave it up on coming to the U.S. But Ligurians still hold chestnut flour near dear and hold annual chestnut festivals. In the U.S. chestnut flour is novel and relatively expensive. You can get it through many mail order sources on the Internet or, as I did, at Whole Food Markets, imported from Italy at a cost of about $9 per bag. It has a sweet and earthy taste that is complex and perhaps not for everybody, but my family and I love it. That said, remember that chesnut flour does not have the elasticity of wheat flour and is a bit harder to work with. Be patient, and don't worry if your chestnut gnocchi are not as pretty as your potato ones. While chestnut gnocchi may be a bit esoteric for some, gnocchi made with ricotta and spinach is a sure crowd pleaser. Around Liguria, this version is made with prescinseua cheese-a regional clabbered cheese, something like yogurt-and borage, a green herb that grows in the hills. Because prescinseua and borage are not easily available in the U.S., ricotta and spinach can be used as an acceptable substitute according to Fred Plotkin, an American who has decades of experience eating and cooking in Liguria and is the author of Recipes from Paradise: Life and Food on the Italian Riviera. This beautiful book is a gift to anyone interested in Ligurian cuisine, and Plotkin's recipe for spinach ricotta gnocchi is a winner. Sauces You can eat any variety of gnocchi in perfect bliss with just butter, salt , pepper and some good reggiano cheese. A light tomato marinara with basil is always good with the potato gnocchi and with the spinach cheese version as well. But pesto is sacred touchstone of the region, and if my great grandmother was like most Ligurians, she definitely liked her gnocchi with pesto. This should be placed in the bottom of your serving bowl, thinned with a little pasta water, and gently mixed with gnocchi. Pesto is never heated. Far less well known to Americans is walnut sauce-a rich and healthful specialty of Liguria. This fabulous and easy mixture is on the menu of nearly every local trattoria around Genoa, traditionally served over with pansôti, a triangular shaped pasta stuffed with cheese and greens. "Salsa di noce" as it is called, goes wonderfully with chestnut gnocchi My recipe below was given by a friend named Mariacarla Roncallo-a borrowed mother who graciously shared her recipes and knowledge with me last summer in her Genoa kitchen. Though trattoria versions (and many cookbooks) call for milk and breadcrumbs in the ingredients, Mariacarla insists that these are adulterations. Hers is made simply of walnuts, Parmigiano-Reggiano and a few leaves of marjoram. It is wonderful. Like pesto, it is thinned and stirred to creamy consistency with a little hot pasta water reserved from your cooking pot. But that brings us back to the very nature of comfort food, doesn't it. Usually you can't get it in a restaurant. Comfort food is so often about home and personal history-whatever you choose your own individual version to be, whatever you choose for the important parts, and hopefully that which you pass on to future generations. Recipes for Gnocchi
Chestnut Gnocchi (Inspired by La Cuciniera Genovese, by G.B. e Giovanni Ratto, 18th edition.) Prepare as above except replace all purpose flour with a 1 ¼ cup of unbleached all purpose flour and 1 ¼ cup of chestnut flour, well combined. Cheese and Vegetable Gnocchi Adapted from Recipes from Paradise: Life and Food on the Italian Riviera, by Fred Plotkin (Little, Brown 1997)
12 ounces mealy potatoes, unpeeled and washed
(Fresh spinach is always best, but this cook finds a ten-ounce box of high quality frozen spinach to be acceptable when cooked according to package directions and wrung out bone dry in a clean dishtowel.) Cook and then peel the potatoes, rice them and let cool. Boil the borage or spinach until just soft. Drain well, squeezing all excess liquid. Let cool. Combine the potatoes, and let cool. Combine the potatoes, borage (or spinach), prescinseua (or ricotta), flour, and Parmigiano -Reggiano to make a dough. Form a well, break in the eggs, and then knead lightly to make a dough before forming the gnocchi as described above. Pesto Adapted from Recipes from Paradise: Life and Food on the Italian Riviera, by Fred Plotkin (Little, Brown 1997)
1 pinch coarse sea salt
Blender Method: Place all of the ingredients in a blender, except that you should add only 1 tablespoon of olive oil instead of the whole amount. Blend at high speed for 1 minute. Then lift the lid carefully and scrape the sides of the blender using a rubber spatula. Check the consistency of the ingredients, which should be thick and somewhat creamy. Blend for a few more seconds if you think the pesto should be a bit thinner, but don't overdo it. Remove the contents of the bowl and then spoon in the rest of the olive oil a little at a time until you reach the desired consistency. Your goal is to have a thick creamy sauce. Walnut Sauce From Mariacarla Roncallo of Sampierdarena, Genoa
2 cups walnuts (approximately)
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