It was love at first taste for me with gnocchi. Some people can remember the exact moment on the exact day when they first laid eyes on the object of their affection, but I am apparently not one of them. I can’t remember when it was, where I was or who I was with when I put one of those fluffy little potato pillows to my mouth for the first time.

I do, however, recall the first time I made them. I was living in California, still getting comfortable in the kitchen and thought “cooking” meant a big production. It must have been in the pre-blog days because no photos survive as evidence of the nor’easter that hit Tarzana that year.

Flour was everywhere. The table. The floor. My hair. In the crease of the cookbook. There was a smudge by the volume button on the TV. Another one on the air conditioning unit. I’d even managed to dust the inside of the pantry. Despite my festive surroundings, I remember breaking a sweat as I peeled too-hot potatoes and kneaded dough furiously in an attempt to beat a personal best I had yet to set.

The process was more memorable than the final result – an indication that the final result must not really have been all that memorable.

Memories of gnocchi’s perfect taste and texture would come from eating out. I can still picture the gnocchi bolognese from C & O Trattoria in Marina del Rey and I can practically smell the ricotta gnocchi with sausage and fennel from Lupa Osteria in New York.

Flash forward a few years and I’m standing in Veronica’s gorgeous studio apartment in San Lorenzo watching her run boiled potatoes through a food mill. Don’t use a food processor she cautions us. It won’t be the right texture. Make sure you cook the potatoes with the peels on and skin the potatoes while they are still hot she insists. I’m taking notes furiously, absolutely delighted to be learning how to make pasta from an Italian while in Rome.

Veronica shapes the riced potato into a pile and creates a well in the center. She fills it with flour, a pinch of salt and a few grates of fresh nutmeg. I work on putting her technique into words as she folds the outer edges of potato on to the center, pressing lightly, once, twice then over and over again, until the dough comes together. Nary a sprinkle of flour escapes.

She’s made gnocchi hundreds of times, mostly when she was younger, often with her grandmother and always on Thursdays tradition dictates. 

Use red potatoes, or old potatoes, she instructs us. Starchier potatoes, like Russets, lose their shape during cooking while waxy potatoes, with less starch and a higher moisture content, fare better. Veronica divides the dough and hands a piece to each of us. 

There’s little danger in overworking the dough. Roll it out with the base of your palm and then roll in back in with your fingers, in a gentle rocking motion, using one hand and then the other. Add flour as necessary to prevent the dough from sticking to your hands, the rolling pin, your workspace, but not too much.

Once the dough is well combined and doesn’t stick to the back of your hand when you touch it to the top, let it sit, covered with a dish towel, at room temperature for 30 minutes. After a half hour, we take small fistfuls of the dough and roll it out with our hands into a long rope three-quarters of an inch thick. We use bench scrapers as if they were knives  to cut the rope into inch-wide sections and place the now ready to cook gnocchi on a plate, dusting the tops lightly with a bit more flour. These would be some of the best gnocchi I had ever tasted.

Confident after a single lesson with a certified expert, I dove into making gnocchi at home and, this time, with more memorable results. There’s still flour in places in shouldn’t be, but I’ve managed to keep it somewhat contained. And my gnocchi still don’t get points for looks, but they are tasting delicious. I’ll pair them with a simple tomato and basil sauce, finished with a hearty sprinkle of pecorino Romano, like we did when we were at Veronica’s or serve them up with this hearty oxtail sauce or a simple mix of garlic, oil and red pepper flakes.

I’m still in love after all these years.

Gnocchi
Serves 4 to 6

3 – 4 medium sized red potatoes
Salt
1 1/3 cup cake flour, plus more for dusting
Pinch of nutmeg

Place potatoes in a pot and fill with water to cover and salt generously. Bring the water to a boil and cook until potatoes are pierced easily with a fork, about 15-20 minutes.

Remove potatoes from the pot and allow to cool slightly before peeling. Run the potatoes through a ricer or use the broad holes of a box grater to process the cooked potatoes. Flour your work surface and lay the potatoes on top. Create a well and add flour, nutmeg and a generous pinch of salt. Mix by hand, using a bench scraper to help the incorporation process. Knead until fully combined and then let dough rest, at room temperature for 30 minutes. I usually add a bit of oil to the bowl or plate where I let the gnocchi rest to prevent it from sticking.

On a lightly floured surface, pull small fistfuls of dough from the ball and use hand to roll dough out into a rope about 3/4 inch in diameter. Use the bench scraper, or a knife if you don’t have one, to cut the rope into inch-long pieces. Set aside on a slightly floured surface, spaced apart to avoid sticking.

While you are cutting the gnocchi, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. When ready, place gnocchi into the pot and cook, for an additional 20-30 seconds once gnocchi rises to the top of the pot. Lift gnocchi from the pot using a spider or slotted spoon and add to your sauce of choice or add to a bowl if people are going to serve themselves. If the former, warm sauce and gnocchi over medium heat and gently stir to combine. Serve warm.