Enter: gnocchi recipe on my wonderful friend's blog, Matzo & Rice.
Electing to watching the Jets/Patriots game (go LT!) and make gnocchi from scratch instead of writing, here's what I did:
Gwen says, "Hurry up and boil, potatoes!"
Once the potatoes were boiled, I mashed up a cup of potatoes with butter and salt and pepper (per the very clear and excellent recipe). At this point I thought, why ruin delicious mashed potatoes by making them into a gnocchi that I will inevitably botch? But the Jets were pressing on, and so did I.
Next came the dough! One cup of flour was plenty. The directions said knead, so I punched it warily a few times, then decided if you could see my knuckle imprints in the dough, it was good enough. Then I shaped the gnocchi into bite sized bits and got a good man to make the gnocchi sauce:
Voila! Dinner!Now I feel much happier about the world. If only that meant my story was done and winding its brilliant way to the New Yorker.
3 comments:
I sometimes wonder whether there is a religious order that cooks in order to place themselves in harmony with the universe. I'd consider joining.
if there isn't, i think you should start one. cooking always makes me feel better.
There must be someway of combining the designs of a monk's habit and an apron in an aesthetically pleasing way.
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