Making peace with Bittman, or: ricotta gnocchi

Annalena's army shall know, from prior posts, that she has very little patience for Mark Bittman. She finds him more than a bit, well "much," and full of himself. Frequently, when reading or watching him (he does seem to be everywhere. The veritable everready bunny of cooking), she frequently wants to yell 'TURN IT DOWN WOMAN," or something more foul. But.... Never let it be said that Annalena is not a reasonable woman. Read on.

Not that long ago, Mr. Bittman published a recipe that was intriguing to me: one for ricotta gnocchi. Background to the intrigue: one of the specialties at one of Annalena's favorite San Francisco restaurants, Zuni café' , is sheep's milk ricotta gnocchi. They are wonderful. Like clouds. The recipe is in the wonderful Zuni cookbook.

And every single time I have tried to make them, I have screwed them up. During our last visit to San Francisco, they were on the menu, accompanied with fresh shell beans. I took time to chat with the server and told him of my dilemma with cooking them. He smiled and said "there's almost no one here who can make them. The right person has to be on that night and be in the right mood."

Oh. Now THERE's a recipe you want to put in a book: "you need to have the right person, in the right mood." Okay, I guess even Zuni nods. So I had made up my mind that this was their "free bite, " in the sense that every cookbook has its clinkers in it, and resigned myself to the fact that I would not enjoy those gnocchi unless I was, as my boys at Uptown would sing "in the right place at the right time." (actually, they would sing wrong place at the wrong time, but let's not quibble here).

Then, the Bittman recipe was printed in the newspaper. I looked at it. Hmmm. He used flour. Not a LOT of flour, but some flour. Zuni didn't. Eggs. Hmmm. Cheese. Hmmmm. All good. Maybe a Thursday night supper with the Guy man. After all, if it failed, we could eat something else.

Now, I want you all to know that there is a much heartier version of ricotta gnocchi in the cookbooks of Marianne Esposito. Hers are baked, in a tomato sauce, and if you are looking for something traditionally Southern Italian, go there. These are not traditional, at least not in the Southern Italian tradition. Make your choice, or don't, and make them both.

It did NOT fail. In fact, it was downright terrific. A recipe to serve four, became a recipe to serve two. I believe that, if you make this - and you WILL make it darlings - you will see why it is easy to eat more than the allocated serving.

You need very simple ingredients: a pound of ricotta. Whole milk ricotta, please, and as Annalena always says, try not to use the ghastly stuff that ends with an "o". She uses sheep's milk ricotta from the farmer's market. Carry on as you see fit, and perhaps even make your own. You will also need a heaping cup of freshly grated, parmagiano reggiano cheese. Here, don't use the stuff in the green tube. Please. Pretty please. You also need two large eggs. You can mix all of this stuff up hours ahead of time and then add salt and pepper.

Now, comes the fun part, where you have to wing it a little bit. Get a large pot of water going, with some salt in it. Bring it to the boil, BUT THEN IMMEDIATELY BRING IT DOWN to something just over a simmer. The last thing you want here, is what we used to call a "rolling boil." That vigorous a boil, will destroy your gnocchi. Trust me on this.

Okay, while the water is coming to a boil, stir in a scant half cup of flour. Get into the mix with your hands, if you have to. When the water has come to that boil, get a tablespoon and ladle about that much of the cheese mix into the water. Let it cook. See if it falls apart. If it does, then add more flour. If it does not, you're ready (you DO have to do this. My first gnocchi were good, but soft. REALLY soft). It's difficult to tell you how much flour you will need, because the weather that day, the atmosphere, the moisture in your cheese, will all have a role in this. You probably will need between a half and ¾ cup of the flour, though, or more if you like a spongier gnocchi.

Drop them into your pot. Don't overcrowd. What I mean by overcrowding, is that there should be enough room, or few enough, gnocchi in the pot, so that they can move around. They will sink to the bottom, and begin to rise to the top when they are ready. Scoop them out with a slotted spoon, and if you happen to have melted half a stick of unsalted butter with some herbs (HINT), you can drop them into that, as the rest of them cook. All of this will take you, maybe, half an hour to do. You will have a wonderful pot of delicious, light, tasty gnocchi, and you will have something new to serve forth.

I'm still not sure I like Mr. Bittman, but I do like his gnocchi. (There's probably something foul there, also, but let's leave it alone for now).

Annalena owes you recipes. To come this weekend: blackened romesco. Pork chops in the style of veal chops. Quince upside down cake. And, perhaps my favorite dish of the week, a slow cooked treat of cabbage, chestnuts, wine and apples with bacon, that made me smile, BIG TIME