Every girl has some long-lost love she dreams about when alone at night. Mine is Italian. Rich. Firm on the outside, but soft on the inside. Complex. Best when draped in something buttery. And oh yeah, his name is Gnocchi.
It has been a few years since my Italian and I have had a true rendezvous (recent attempts at American restaurants proved unsatisfying). But when we met, it was on a crisp
December evening in Tuscany, just after sunset (that soft, golden glow lingering over the yellow hills). Gnocchi wasn’t what I’d expected from photographs—instead, he was filled with spinach and ricotta, a bit larger and less square than previous encounters with look-alikes suggested. He showed up at the Ristorante La Porta del Chianti in the quaint old world town of San Gusme along with a good friend of his—wild boar. While wild boar was not my type (although my fiancee did have a good time with the locally-hunted meat), gnocchi sent my heart aflutter. I often think of him now, when faced with a seemingly similar option at an Italian restaurant in the new world. But alas, no one ever fills me the way my Italian gnocchi did. I can only hope to one day return to Ristorante La Porta del Chianti to find him there as I remembered: warm, tangy, sweet, and good to the last bite.
Ristorante La Porta del Chianti
Piazza Castelli, 10
53019 San Gusme (SI)
(I don’t know if anyone can replicate the Italian Gnocchi I know and love, but here’s a recipe for anyone daring to try.)