Travel Food — Italian/Argentine Gnocchi
Community Cooking Challenge #5 from The Solitary Cook
My travel has been limited to the United States, mostly east coast and west as far as Nebraska, and the eastern half of Canada. I don’t have a story to tell about food in Sicily or Athens or Lima. My story is about a relatively short trip of 985 miles that exposed me to Italian gnocchis by way of Argentina.
However, my story begins in September 2007 with a shorter trip from Florida to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. My husband and I drove a friend there to visit her daughter for their Yom Kippur celebration. We dropped her off at her daughter’s house before checking into a beachfront resort.
My husband, an Argentinian who spent most of his adult life in New Jersey, was concerned about food offerings in what is often referred to as the Redneck Vacation Capital of the World. He feared a choice of only beach food, Southern barbecue, and Denny’s fat-laden breakfast offerings.
Perusing the phone book, before owning a smart phone, I found an advertisement for Villa Romana Italian Restaurant that looked promising:
Argentinians probably eat nearly as much Italian food as Italians, and are known to brag that they improved the food brought to their country by Italian immigrants. (Side note: my husband says his countrymen improved the food of the immigrants from Europe that settled in Argentina, but Americans ruined the food introduced by immigrants who came here! I kinda have to agree.) My husband is well known for his pasta sauce, as was his mother. Consequently, I knew my husband would be hard to please but Villa Romana accomplished what many restaurants have not.
The interior of Villa Romana looked very Italian with fountains and sculptures and a roving accordionist who played table-side requests. It smelled Italian with the tempting aromas of oregano, garlic, and basil. For my entree, I chose Gnocchi of Potato Alla Romana.
Gnocchi are a simple type of dumpling-like pasta made with potatoes, flour, egg, and olive oil. The individual pasta dumplings are rolled off a fork or a pasta/pastry board with a flip of the wrist, resulting in a football shaped piece of dough with a small opening that allows air into the dumpling, keeping it soft and pillowy.
Years before, I had gnocchi at a middling Italian restaurant in Florida. My husband told me that his mother’s gnocchi (I had not yet met her) were so airy they melted in your mouth. The ones I had in Florida certainly weren’t like that! They tasted good but were dense, not airy. The ones at Villa Romana were much better than what I’d eaten previously and my husband, upon tasting my gnocchi, was amazed at how good they were. He remarked, “They are about 80% as good as my mother’s.” Rating any food above 50% of his mother’s quality is a rousing compliment from him!
Now my story goes on the longer road trip. Two months later, we traveled to New Jersey to spend ten days with his mother in Elizabeth while making daily trips to Manhattan — my first time visiting NYC.
Emilia delighted at having her eldest child arrive with his new mate. She spoiled us with many of her Argentine food specialties; every night another culinary delight.
The day before Thanksgiving, Ben and I were booked for a dinner and dancing cruise around Manhattan so we stayed at a hotel in the the city. During the night, the street where our hotel was located was shut down for the arrival and preparation of bands scheduled to march in the morning’s Thanksgiving Macy’s Parade. I stayed awake most of the night marveling at all the activity below our hotel window.
In the morning, we had a continental breakfast offered by the hotel and then walked along the parade route, squeezing between the hordes of people to get a glimpse of dancers, band performances, floats, and balloons. The day was sunny, crisply cold, and windy. This Floridian shivered and shook, dreaming of returning to Emilia’s warm, little apartment.
We boarded a NJ Transit train to Elizabeth before the end of the parade, avoiding the crowds that would be leaving after us. The six block walk from the train station to Emilia’s apartment was torturous for me. I was exhausted, hungry, and frozen to the marrow of my bones. When the door to Emilia’s apartment opened, I was enveloped in warmth, tango music, and delicious aromas, I wanted to cry with relief and gratitude.
Emilia, bustling around her tiny kitchen, greeted us in Spanish and said that lunch was ready. My brother-in-law, who lived in the same apartment building, was seated at the dining table in the corner of the living room. Since it was Thanksgiving Day, I assumed a meal with at least some traditional dishes would be served and, as a vegetarian, I wondered what I would eat. Foods served at Thanksgiving are some of my least favorites.
We freed ourselves from coats, scarves, hats, and gloves, and joined Juan Carlos at the table. He poured red wine for everyone as we buttered slices of French bread. Moments later, Emilia gently set dishes of gnocchi and sauce in front of us. The largest bowl, which contained pieces of meat nestled among the gnocchi, was in the middle of the table. A smaller meat-free bowl was placed in front of me.
I excitedly pulled the bowl closer, eager to taste Emilia’s famous melting gnocchi. As soon as Emilia joined us, I picked up my fork and dove into the soft pillowy footballs lightly covered with a luscious sauce that smelled like the soul of Italy. A dozen flavors swirled in my mouth as two pieces of pasta dissolved like cubes of sugar. Ben was right; I didn’t have to chew.
I sipped wine and ate and ate. The vegetarian bowl that was larger than a soup bowl but smaller than an average serving bowl, called a plato hondo in Spanish, held more than I would typically eat in one sitting, but the gnocchi were so delectable and I was so hungry that I lifted one forkful after another to my mouth until the bowl was empty.
Chuckling, Emilia said something in Spanish to her sons. They looked at me and then the empty dish and laughed. Perplexed, I asked Ben what was said. “Oh, just that she expected that bowl of gnocchi to last you for two meals!” he said.
I was mortified. A warm glow passed over my cheeks as I apologized for eating so much. Emilia, who could understand more English than she could speak, tsk’d-tsk’d me, saying in Spanish that she was honored and complimented by my eager appetite and she loved watching me enjoy the food she prepared.
No one let me forget that meal, and I certainly haven’t forgotten it! Surely, that dish of gnocchi on a frigid Thanksgiving afternoon was my favorite meal ever.
A year later, Emilia would come to spend a month with us in Florida. She gave me her gnocchi recipe and tried to teach me how to roll perfect little pillowy footballs. Just like Ben, I never got the hang of it. My daughter tried the following year and her gnocchi were acceptable though not as light as Emilia’s. Although the rolling of the pieces of dough give the gnocchi a small opening to capture air and make the pasta extra light, you can leave them as is, resulting in a denser pasta.
As I wrote this story, my grandchildren begged to try making gnocchi with me, and we will, but not before the deadline for this cooking/writing challenge — just too much on my plate right now (pun intended). So, I leave you with the recipe and a video that shows how to roll out the gnocchi. When the kids and I have a free Saturday afternoon, we will attempt to make gnocchi and post the result.
Emilia’s recipe for gnocchi was lost in our move last year but the authentic one below was obtained from her granddaughter.
Gnocchi Recipe
3 lb of white or Yukon Gold potatoes
2 cups of all purpose flour (I used King Arthur brand) and a little more for dusting
1 large egg
A “sip” of olive oil (gotta love the measurement of a “sip”)
Salt
A shot of olive oil (as opposed to a sip)
Peel and boil potatoes in salted water (2 teaspoons) until done — about 30 minutes — or you can remove skins after boiling
Drain potatoes well
Mash potatoes using a potato masher or you can put them through a ricer
Add egg and olive oil, mix in by hand
Add the 2 cups of flour, a little at a time, and continue mixing my hand — dough will be sticky
Sprinkle flour on counter top or whatever surface you prefer
Place the ball of dough on the surface and roll in the flour
Work the dough, kneading and rolling, adding a little flour if necessary, until it loses its stickiness
Roll the ball into a long cylinder about 1-inch in diameter
Slice into thumb size pieces
See video below for how to roll out the gnocchi using a pasta board or a fork.
Be sure not to pile up the gnocchi. Set them apart so they don’t stick together.
Boil 6 cups of water and 2 teaspoons of salt in a large pot. Once water boils add the shot of olive oil. You will boil the gnocchi in batches of two handfuls. Add two handfuls and stir lightly for just a moment so they don’t stick together. Boil 2–3 minutes or until the gnocchi float and bob on the surface of the water. Remove that batch with a slotted spoon so they drain and add the next batch until all the gnocchi are cooked.
Gnocchi can be served with any pasta sauce you like or with sage and butter. When using pasta sauce, don’t overwhelm the gnocchi. The sauce should be a light rain not a deluge. The star of this dish is the gnocchi, the sauce is its co-star.
