Good golly, gnocchi

Peering at me, their little, ugly eyes daring to pierce the side of their plastic bag, my Maris Pipers were begging to be used. Thanksgiving had long come and gone, and while my growing gut said 'no', a little red devil in the form of Mario Batali--red clogs to match his horns tap tap tapping on my shoulder--said 'yes'.

Fresh pasta has never been an avenue I have felt comfortable exploring. Rather, I delight in ordering it in restaurants, where I know a nonna has been deftly and expertly labouring over dough for hours to create perfectly shaped mouthfuls of sauced deliciousness.

However, some weeks ago I bit the bullet. Friend, V., was leaving for North America soon, and a few friends were coming around for dinner.

I peeled and boiled my pound (or so) of potatoes in heavily salted water, mashed them and spread them out to cool on a cutting board. However, I don't think I let them cool enough. My impatience, combined with a gin and tonic during the interim, made me force the dough together a bit prematurely, I think. I kept adding flour, in proportions equal to those that Mario recommends, and somehow added well over 2 cups...and with the addition of the eggs, the mass began to cling to the work surface in a manner that would make Elmer blush. It crept up my forearms, the crevices of the counter...everywhere! More flour. Somehow this all came together into long logs, and I began to cut small (though they grew large) bits away from each end.


Next challenge: the 'rolling' of the bits off of a fork into boiling water to give them that recognizable shape. Mine were less gnocchi-like, and far more odd dumpling-shaped...but they did rise to the top of my pot of boiling water after mere seconds, and smothered in a simple tomato sauce small cubes of mozzarella, they tasted far better than any grocery store variety I'd ever had. They may have been a motley collection of gnocchi-like blobs, but the texture was pillowy (somehow--given the amount of flour that went in!) and ever so soft. So satisfying was it, that I may give it another go--this time those mashed spuds are going to be left to rest far longer!