Gnocchi (the kind that come frozen in a bag) were a staple of my childhood, a total comfort food that I have been seriously missing for many years. Seeing as they were in line with our broke-ass, potatoes-and-flour diet, I thought now was the time to make them. This took some bravery, because gnocchi are one of those deeply sensitive food items that will clamor up and become, as food critics so often like to describe them, "balls of lead." If even ritzy restaurants are capable of producing heavy, gummy gnocchi, how could I possibly get it right at home?
I decided the only way to go about this was to treat the gnocchi like a minefield. Any wrong touch could set them off, so I handled them as lightly as humanly possible, never adding additional ingredients or touching them for more than a few moments at a time, constantly thinking light and fluffy thoughts.
What I learned, however, is that siding with the light force is no better than siding with the dark - everything is balance. While foodbloggers and critics are all too ready to complain about the looming threat of the leaden gnocchi, what they rarely mention is the opposite threat of a gnoccho so light that he falls apart when you drop him in your water. It was truly tragic - I sheltered my little gnocchi so much that as soon as they were cast into the tumultuous world of the sauce pot, they shattered under the pressure. My fatal mistake was failing to drain my ricotta, leaving the dough overly moist, a problem which I was too afraid to correct by kneading in additional flour. Luckily I only cooked them ten at a time, so in the latter batches I was able to reduce the heat to a gentle simmer, roll the gnocchi in extra flour, and take them out as soon as they rose to the top. This resulted in gnocchi that were totally silky and pillowy without even a suggestion of chew... not the familiar robust gnocchi of my childhood, but delicious and comforting in their own right.
So friend, as you enter upon this journey, I advise that you empty all fear from your heart. Treat your gnocchi gently but firmly, both guided by your intution yet responsive to their subtly changing states. And remember, they can sense your disaproval, so emanate nothing but love in the direction of your beautiful little dumplings, whatever they grow to be.
Potato-Ricotta Gnocchi
Serves four
2 lb potatoes
1 1/4 cups flour
1 Tbsp salt
1 egg
1/2 c riccotta, WELL DRAINED
Pepper to taste
Peel your potatoes, cut them into large chunks (a medium red potato should be halved), and rinse them under cool water to remove excess gluten. Boil them until completely tender, then run them under cold water to cool slightly so that they can be handled. It is time to turn your potatoes to mush, but, against your first impulse, you MUST NOT MASH THEM. This will lead to the dreaded lead gnocchi. Unless you have a fancy potato ricer machine, you should process your potatos by running the tines of a fork down each one to shred it. Like so:
If you have lumps, instead of mashing them, stab at them with your fork tines. Make a loose pile as you go. Do not push the pile together. Do not even think about mashed poatoes. Think light fluffy thoughts. Think about chopped raw cauliflower, because that's what your pile should look like.
Mix all of the other ingredients in a big bowl. Gently. Don't knead it. Add the potatoes gradually, mixing them in BY HAND as you go. Try to do more stirring, pulling, and fluffing than squeezing ingredients together. As soon as everything is even, stop. Do not knead until smooth like normal pasta dough. It will be a little lumpy and sticky... however, if it is very wet and sticky, don't make my mistake and let it be. Mix a tiny bit more flour in at a time until it is better.
Break off a handful of dough, put it on a floured surface, and roll it into a snake the thickness of gnocchi. Cut it up into gnocchi-sized pieces and mark them by rolling them along the tines of a fork. Make sure they are well-floured on all sides to prevent sticking. Set aside on a floured surface as you go.
Bring a very big pot of water to a GENTLE boil. Drop your gnocchi in (probably in two batches is a good idea). WATCH the pot and control the boil so that it stay rolling, but not so intense that the gnocchi will break. Wait until all of the gnocchi have risen to the surface, and then cook for about another minute - but watch and take them out before they start to look water-logged and disintegrate-y.
We had one bowl with a quick tomato-basil sauce and one bowl with butter and parmesan, and our very delicate gnocchi were better-suited to the butter. If your are firmer, they will hold up to tomato sauce well.
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