Monday, February 11, 2008

*gnocchi gnitty gritty.

I don't know, friends. I don't know why the more tired I am, the harder it is to sleep. I don't know why J gets up every. single. time. the doorbell rings on TV, even though I have not now, nor ever, owned a functioning doorbell. I don't know why installing a sump pump under your house can suddenly inspire your yard to fill with water. I certainly don't know why this

became this.

And I don't know why the Italians are so freaking smart. You think pasta is good? You think potatoes are good? Only the Italians would put two and two together (which reminds me. I also do not know why I can quote entire episodes of The Golden Girls, but I can't perform simple mathematical equations. That, though, is one for the ages).

Rachael Ray, eat your heart out. This was a 12-minute proposition, max. A potato, flour, an egg, salt. That's it! AND, because I let Giada lead the way, I got to cook the potato in the microwave. Seven minutes, then its golden flesh mixed with a smidge of flour, salt, and a few tablespoons of beaten egg. And guess what I got from that? You wouldn't believe it if I told you.

DOUGH! I'm saying! It actually came together to form dough! I was speechless. I know, you are, too. Let's have a moment of silence. For potato dough and for the mental health of pop starlets everywhere.

I rolled out the dough (skills I retain from preschool), cut it into 1-inch lengths, and then, as directed, rolled it along the tines of a fork for the making of dimples.

And that is the bad picture of said dimples. I don't trust a food that starts out with dimples. It doesn't bode well for one's thighs. But I threw caution to the wind and gnocchi in the pot, where it boiled for exactly one minute, then floated to the top, begging to be plated. Meanwhile, remember this? Look:

I knew it would come in handy! For some reason, I can't handle pesto without tomatoes. I think their fruity lightness mitigates the oily sauce. They also make things ever so pretty.

Starchy and salty and sweet. And half a batch of dough in the fridge, begging for some brown butter. Take that, soured-laundry-flavored parsnips.


seedling says:
at: 12:26 AM said...

here I was sitting bored, feeling sorry for myself (head colds do that to me) and I find your yummy little blog !

Hello and greetings, and I hope you've been able to get some sleep!

K. says:
at: 9:12 AM said...

ooh, your well wishes were powerful! i had a lovely sleep. i'm going to give you credit.

i hope you feel better. i suggest drowning your cold in red wine and french fries. i find it's my immune system's favorite. note: this is unqualified, unsolicited medical advice. but i did take AP biology in high school, so you can probably trust me.

at: 8:52 PM said...

so i think your blog should be a running column on . . . power of suggestion--i bought gnocchi tonight for dinner--mmmm--close second to my favorite instant mashed potatoes (i know i have a very advanced palette--never was one for snobbery anyway).

your blog rocks!

K. says:
at: 10:20 AM said...

thanks! and don't knock the instant mashed potatoes. they were a college staple. unless, of course, you mean these. because they're disgusting.



my foodgawker gallery



I am a work in progress. I perpetually need a hair cut. I'm totally devoted to my remarkable nieces and nephew. I am an elementary home cook and a magazine worker bee. (Please criticize my syntax and spelling in the comments.) I think my dog is hilarious. I like chicken and spicy things. I have difficulty being a grown-up. Left to my own devices, I will eat enormous amounts of cheese snacks of all kinds.