I miss your gentle touch upon my lips. It has been too long since you have graced my presence with your starchy tang. I have been scorned by many erasers disguised as potato lumps on my sauce covered plate. Those were just fools. You are the one I really want. Your tempurpedic pillow plushness. Your mouth watering ability to dissolve into liquid love. Your attempt to quash my wine’s desire to eff me up. You are a fickle lover. A small, tiny lover. And you have abated me for the last time. My search for you continues. You and I will be together at last, Signore Gnocchi.

Similar to Lurlene I have started to watch what I’m eating. This is mostly because I got tired of counting moths flying out of my wallet. I don’t know if you know this, but moths have the ability to point and laugh.

Watching what I eat is not new in my life. Taking into account of what I eat is.

*** (dream like moment with deep voiceover using too much reverb)***
Since the dawn of Bunny’s simple life, her mother was on a diet. For this reason, Bunny is ultra aware of her weight and what she puts in her mouth. However, this “diet genealogy” does not stop her from eating what she likes to call “crap food”. No. She eats what she likes and then tells herself what a pig she is and how big her ass has gotten. Now, some may say that this is self destructive behavior. Why not just eat healthy?... You see… like her name sake with sex, Bunny likes to eat a whole lot of whatever is available and tasty. Her hand has a special relationship with her mouth and they like to sneak behind her mind’s back. What can our poor Bunny do. ***

What can I do?...
1. Go shopping for groceries and don’t order out. Know what I am putting into my mouth.

2. Limit “crap food”. Just because Paul Newman makes it doesn’t mean that Newman-Oh’s are good for you.

3. Try not to snack. This one is hard and I have not even come close to mastering it. I am a snacker to the core when I’m home. If I’m bored, I snack. “So keep busy,” you say. Story of my life...get off my back.

Another reason for my new awareness of food is that at 32 I have had to start taking Lipitor to lower my cholesterol. Family history has created havoc on my cholesterol. Another gift from mom. Weeeee!

Two things I have learned about myself.
1. I love starch. Potatoes and Pasta make me smile. Yes, actually smile.
2. I love cheese. Grilled cheese should be made into something big, important and bronzed.

Two things I am not supposed to eat if watching my weight and cholesterol:
1. Starch
2. Cheese

Do you see why I wish food came in pellet form? Do you see why I wish I never had to think about what I put between my cheese hungry lips? So Now what do I do?... I stick to my original plan of three: shop, additives limit and do stuff. SALADS.

Have I told you how much I don't like salads?... Boy, I have work to do.

Over the past few months I’ve made a concerted commitment to healthier eating and exercise.

Well ok: I actually committed to hoarding my money because I keep going broke. But as it turns out, a natural consequence of thrifty living is that I have more time to exercise (since I head to "the gym" on the way home to cook dinner), and I’m eating more vegetables and fruit (since trying to save money at the supermarket means buying fewer pre-prepared/ preserved items.)

Who woulda thunk?

Another natural consequence, or rather a necessary consequence of my twin commitments is that I’m being forced to learn how to cook well. I was certainly capable of reading a recipe and putting together the ingredients before – Thanksgiving and Christmas get my baking mojo especially revved up – but I’ve never been what I define as an “effortless” cook – the kind who can look at a cupboard of ingredients and improvise a meal. It’s a skill I’ve always wanted to develop, and it would REALLY come in handy when trying to eat right and save money.

SO. To that end I’ve been trolling the Epicurious online recipe db (despite appearances this blog is in no way sponsored by Epicurious…though hell if I’m going to mention it this frequently a kick-back would be nice…) for new dishes. What I look for: few ingredients and portability (eg can I tote it to work in my dorky Trader Joe lunch bag?)

What I also look for that has naught to do with simplicity, cost, or re-heatability: BLACK TRUFFLE OIL. I first fell in love with the ingredient I like to call “The Slow Dark Stranger” when I tried Uva’s exquisite ricotta gnocchi (laced liberally with black truffle oil.) Since then, The Stranger and I have had a few delirious chance encounters of the cheese variety. Artisanal Fromagerie and Bistro was the aha! moment when I realized why I was threatening my tablemates with a shiv (ok, a butter knife) if they ate any more of that cheese with the amazing taste. It was…THE SOAP! Oh, wait no: truffle oil. It was the truffle oil.

All this frippery and explanation brings me to the gist of my post, which is to say that I came across a recipe for home-style tater tots with truffles (can I get a Whoohoo?) It seems the perfect marriage of the tuber and the truffle, a fitting variation on gnocchi, and I plan to attempt it in the coming weeks. The recipe calls for minced black truffle and white truffle oil, but honestly I’m not that into actual mushrooms (yes yes calm down it’s weird I know), just the oil, so I’m going to try it without 'em. As for white truffle oil I probably couldn’t tell the diff from black, so we’ll see, eh?

Oh, and notice also the recipe's reference to deep-frying. My God, is there anything this recipe doesn’t have?!!

Finally! I really have nothing to say in regards to gnocchi- I'm just so pleased that I am finally able to post.

My confession: it is very rare that I find a gnocchi that I like, the experience tends to end in disappointment. As I said in my profile, I am wild about pesto and will go almost anywhere for a good one. More often than not I'll get involved with gnocchi because pesto is involved.

Ah yes, the long silence ends. (*crowd cheers*) I thought it about time that I returned to the potato-y pastures and blessed the world with another installment of gnocchi critique...

This time it's a little restaurant in the East Village called Gnocco. A good friend and I wandered in there (literally months ago now) mostly because the name boded well that we would find some decent gnocchi on the menu. The place had recently opened, and we were among the only customers (although it was early in the eve) but were treated with enormous care by the (somewhat scattered but courteous) staff. Creatures of habit that we are, both of us ordered the gnocchi, which I dutifully photographed for the blog.


The texture was quite nice: delicate without being limp or soggy. I recall being a tad disappointed with the sauce, since it wasn't terribly robust. Where gnocchi is concerned I tend to prefer a sauce that's strong in flavor and chunky in consistency: with thick-cut tomatoes or mozzarella and lots of garlic, for instance. Potato can be pretty bland unless it's paired with...well, a condiment or topping with testículos if you will. It's also a question of what those in the food biz call "mouth feel": I eat gnocchi for the comfort-y bulk, the home-y squish, and it seems almost apologetic to pair it with a watery sauce. Do not shy away from the carb-aliciousness, the creamy cheesiness, the fiery garlic-ness, I say!!! Just throw it all in there and I'll drown my fear of coronary retribution with a nice Sangiovese.

Maybe since I visited Gnocco they've grown a pair and bulked up their sauce. Or perhaps I'm just a philistine who doesn't recognize authentic Italian when she inhales it. In any case, I plan to go back for another round at Gnocco cuz after all, there's no better excuse than this blog to gnosh on gnocchi.

UVA Review!

As a petite addendum to my last post, here is a review of Uva from Yelp. Like the NYTimes review it mentions the transcendent ricotta gnocchi--Now do you believe me?!!

I have been inspired by my fellow gnocchi eater. I think I was a wee bit tired of the 'ol gnocchi. I have to admit, I had a run in with many a Meh gnoc. Chewy, rubbery or bad sauce. These did not inspire. These did not make my taste buds explode! Through my friend, I shall find the stregnth to continue my gnocchi research. My gnocchi calling! Thank you. Thank you for seeing me through the dark. Hello Gnocchi, I'm home!

Ok, anyone who knows me knows I’m no stranger to hyperbole—when it comes to behavior, that is. If that’s even a valid way to describe behavior, I would say that mine certainly qualifies: I regularly freak people out with bursts of sudden affection or enthusiasm, and my facial expressions earned me the nickname “the human cartoon” in high school.

But.

Where words are concerned I am usually quite conservative. No, not in the number of words I use--I’m quite aware that I’m verbose—but in the ways I describe things. I hedge my bets when making sweeping statements and think the word “amazing” is WAY overused.

But.

The gnocchi I had last night at Uva may very well be the best I have ever had.

Some background: Uva is a restaurant nearby the apartment where the husb and I moved last year. We chose it randomly for dinner one night and have been back several times since, mostly because they serve fizzy red wine in ceramic bowls! (It’s got a fancy name that I can’t recall at the moment.) Apparently it’s an ancient tradition among gnarled old Italian men to drink in this manner, their mid-afternoon benders evident from the telltale redness on their thumbs after raising a bowl or two. I have no idea as to the significance of the bowl itself, but it sure makes one feel…well, authentic in some way.

The food, of course, is another attraction. Not your run-of-the-mill “American Italian” fare, Uva’s menu includes a range of chisolino (emilian style focaccia) and carta de musica condita (stacks of flatbread with topping), as well as bruschettas, anitpastas, and cheese plates to start, plus salads and a range of unique pasta dishes. I ordered the wheat spiral pasta with tomato and pesto, and I thought I had it good. However. Upon tasting the husb’s choice of gnocchi with ricotta, black truffle oil and chives, I considered knocking him out with a wine bowl to get my hands on the rest of his meal.

Ok, fine. I’d never do that. Plus it would take quite a whack to get through his giant noggin. And there were plenty o’ witnesses. AND he was nice enough to give me a bite every time I looked longingly at his plate with widened eyes and shaking head.

I mean, the stuff was unbelievable. Transcendent. Amazing.(And we already know how I feel about that word.) I had never tasted truffle oil before, but now I know why people rave about it. It really should be a controlled substance. I’m sure that in large amounts it would completely overwhelm anything it’s paired with, but Uvo’s sauce was perfectly balanced: slightly garlic-y, creamy, ever-so-slightly salty, with an additional element that I can’t describe. Must have been the truffles. You’ll just have to go and taste it for yourself. If you do, be nice to the waitress named Pascale. It was her first night when we were there but she charmed the pants off us both.

Or perhaps it was just the gnocchi.