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After the Restaurants; Low-Key Gnocchi

A version of this article appears in both The Syracuse City Eagle and The Dolphin.

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I tried gnocchi for the first time this past October. I know that by most people’s standards, 21 years is a long time to wait before eating such an easy-to-find Italian staple. But it wasn’t in my mother’s repertoire, so I never ate it growing up. And I could never quite muster the courage to order it in a restaurant because – this is embarrassing – I had no idea how the word was pronounced.

A good friend of mine, Yvo, is a food blogger in New York City, and so whenever I make the trip, we get together for some good conversation and eats. We dubbed our last adventure a “Walking Feast,” trudging all over lower Manhattan, trying new and favorite foods. In the course of 12 hours, I managed to pack away toro tartare, fried rock shrimp, raw tuna pizza, roasted black cod, Belgian French fries with honey mustard sauce, Japanese potato salad, miso-glazed tofu, corn on the cob, onigiri with bonito, vegetable stir-fry, cream croquettes, a brownie and a few cookies from Momofuku Milk Bar. I would feign innocence and claim that Yvo is a bad influence on me, but the fact of the matter is that I’m just as naughty.

Anyway, when I was visiting in October, we met at Artisanal, a restaurant known for its fondue. After scouring the menu online, I discovered that not only did they offer a variety of cheeses, they featured a small gnocchi plate. Hooray! But here’s the best part: It came with pork belly and root vegetables. Now, pork product makes me as excited as the next person, but what really tickled me was that I could order gnocchi without actually saying the word.

“I’ll have the pork belly appetizer,” I said authoritatively, when ordering.

The waitress smiled. “With the gnocchi?”

I listened carefully to her pronunciation of the word. Nee-yo-kee! Wow! Who would have thought!?

I ate the dish with gusto, but to be honest, a potato dumpling pales when paired with a crock of salty, fatty, slow-cooked pork belly. I was largely unimpressed with my first gnocchi experience.

The next time I noshed on gnocchi (sorry, couldn’t resist the alliteration) was this January at a restaurant in downtown Syracuse. A gnocchi dish was featured as one of the specials that night, flavored with rosemary and served with a plate of sweet crab meat.

I was so very ready to boldly ask for the gnocchi, but when it came time to order, I lost my nerve.

“Could you repeat the specials?” I asked the waiter with a sweet smile.

He obliged, and when he got to the gnocchi, I interjected. “Ooh, I’ll have that,” I said, pretending that the words had suddenly jogged a desire within me. I am so sneaky.

“Very good,” he said and went to place the order.

With the pressure off, I was moved to try it again. “I think the gnocchi dish was a good choice,” I told my dining companion, moving my mouth over the word slowly and carefully.

He nodded.

“I wonder if the gnocchi is made at the restaurant, or if they buy pre-packaged gnocchi,” I said, getting the hang of it.

He started to answer, but I was on a roll. “I’ve never made gnocchi, but I bet gnocchi is pretty easy to make once you know how to make gnocchi and have had lots of practice making … gnocchi.” This was fun!

Over the next few months, in the comfort of my own kitchen I’ve discovered that no, gnocchi is not “pretty easy” to make. Luckily, I can buy pre-made potato dumplings and dress them up as I please. It’s a real time-saver – which is good, because I’ve just discovered cheesy French bread puffs, and need to devote all the time I can to learning how to pronounce “gougère.”