Gnocchi like we had in Italy, step by step. And a video clip from our trip.

Greg and I recently traveled through Italy for three weeks. I ordered gnocchi half a dozen times. Five out of six times, what arrived at our table had clearly originated from a vacuum-packed, commercial gnocchi supplier...and with good reason. A batch of fresh gnocchi can take up to an hour to prepare.

At one point in our journey, we found ourselves in the charming and non-touristy town of Padova, AKA Padua, just outside of Venice (see video above - three weeks footage of our trip, and it took me almost a year to pots one clip!). After a long day of traveling in cold, drenching rain, we stumbled into a little inn that was a block from our hotel. Greg eagerly ordered the spicy clam linguini, and I hesitantly pointed to the gnocchi. The spicy linguini was the best we had on the trip (or ever since), and the gnocchi were amazing: sized like scallops and drenched in an artichoke puree, I felt like I was eating light, pillowy clouds. Commercial gnocchi are not exactly better or worse, they're just different. At least once, it's worth the time to try making gnocchi at home!

Recipe credit to Heidi at 101 Cookbooks

Photo credit to Greg, somewhere in Domestic Bliss (?) , CT

1. Slice two large russet potatoes. Bring to a boil, cover, and cook until a knife inserted in the center slides out easily. Alternately, bake the potatoes. Peel and let cool for a moment.

2. Push the potatoes through a ricer

3. Mound the potato shavings and make an indent in the center, in which you should place 1/2 to 1 well-beaten egg. Sift 3/4-1 cup flour on top.

4. Knead the dough lightly, adding extra sprinkles of flour as necessary (up to an additional 1/4 cup). The dough should not be sticky, but it should feel light, soft, and a little pillowy. Like Play-doh. If you can roll it into tubes without it sticking to the board, it's firm enough; feel free to add more flour to make it firmer.

5. Roll sections of dough into logs

6. Cut the logs to the desired size

7. Form the gnocchi. Drop into salted boiling water and cook until they float to the top. Gnocchi are best served with thin, clingy sauces (eg, herby pesto, a non-chunky marinara, brown butter and sage, or something creamy).

A note on how to form gnocchi: using a gnocchi board (picture), or the tines of a fork, lightly press the gnocchi to form ridges. Method (a), in the photo above, I used my index finger to create ridges on one half and smoosh the other side into a orochietti shape. Method (b), use the palm of your hand to quickly roll a segment of dough down the board. The dough turns into a tube (gemelli shape) , and this is how I made all of the gnocchi pictured at the top. Alternately, refrigerate large tubes (1" diam) and slice with a knife into scallop sized pieces.

Would you believe me if I said these gnocchi were too pillowy? These gnocchi were so soft that they lacked definite bite, and they didn't quite hold up to the quick red sauce I prepared. Slicing the gnocchi into large, scallop sized pieces about 1" around cured that problem. Alternately, and probably a better option, add a full egg (I only added half of one) and a little extra flour to create a firmer dough. This will make the gnocchi much easier to work with. Test a few pieces of gnocchi in boiling water as you go in order to find the right size gnocchi or amount of flour (this is really the only way to be sure you like the texture).

A Lentil Soup You Won't Soon Forget

Recipe for homemade bread to serve it this lentil soup with

In Tempe Arizona, off University Drive, sharing a plaza with a dry-cleaners, an ethiopian diner and an abandoned bank dusty, sits a yellow stuccoed cafe whose inner ceiling is strung with ivy that flourishes all year round. I visited there at least several times a month when I lived nearby, and I was almost always served by the same waiter - a curiously blue-eyed, sandy-haired 20-something man who tended to follow my friendly inquiries with some religious musing or a cryptic smile. One could never be certain if he was chemically high or spiritually high. Either way, the effect never failed to make me smile back. The restaurant was a family owned and operated Israeli Cafe called Sabuddy's, and they served The Best Lentil Soup I've ever had.

Why was it so good? At the time, I wouldn't have been able to tell you, exactly. It was thick, hearty, nourishing, and possibly umami-laden. The only identifiable components were lentils, white pepper and some potato, though its exact composition depended on the day. Its consistency varied from watery to stand-a-fork-upright, but it was always amazingly creamy and filling with a bright, yellowish color and flecks of pale white lentil skin. My friends and I never managed to get an exact recipe out of our spiritually enlightened waiter, except to confirm on more than one occasion that the soup was vegan.

Since moving away from Sabuddy's lentil soup, I have tried on many, many occasions to duplicate it. A friend and I wondered - what was the secret ingredient? Was there some vegetable or seasoning we knew nothing about? MSG? Did they sneak bacon, or maybe chicken stock in it? Some illegal drug that kept us coming back? We tried everything we could think of, except the problem was there that there wasn't much to try save carrots, celery, potato, and spices. Homemade lentil soup was never the same as what was served at Sabuddy's.

That is, homemade lentil soup was never the same until I discovered these:

It was the type of lentils that made the difference, and my eyes were suddenly open to a world of flavor.

What do you think of when someone says "lentil" to you? The typical brown and green varieties are a bit bland - filling, yes, but lacking in any culinary oomph or interest on their own. When I started learning more about this often overlooked legume, I was surprised to find a diversity of form and flavor that is not properly appreciated in American cuisine. Lentils have been around for more than 9,000 years. Although often considered peasant food, lentils have endured in a variety of cuisines in the Near East, India and the Mediterranean - probably because of their remarkable flavor, excellent nutritional value and ease of preparation. Pair lentils with a grain and you will be providing your body with a complete set of essential amino acids - good for vegetarians. This dream dictionary claims that if a young girl dreams of lentils, she is dissatisfied with her lover, though I might take a less Freudian approach to the matter. I was also amused to find out that in the Old Testament, Esau gave up his birthright to Jacob for a bowl of lentil soup - perhaps my biblically inclined waiter was hinting at more than my agnostic (and recipe-inquiring) mind could appreciate.

Today, I decided to try experiment with the several kinds of lentils sitting in my pantry. The cooking technique for lentils is quite straightforward: rinse lentils in four changes of water prior to cooking, do not soak, and do not salt or add acidic ingredients until you are ready to serve the dish (both of which would toughen the lentils). Cooking times will vary, and you can choose to halt the cooking process earlier to drain water and retain the lentil shape, or you can boil them down into a creamy stew. As with any legume, skimming foam off the top of the boiling water and cooking them thoroughly will help make them easier to digest. Here are four different types of lentils all prepared the same way:

Type	Color	Flavor/ Texture	Lentil : water ratio	For intact lentils	For softer lentils
Brown / Common	Think army fatigues	Mild, watery Firm, holds shape	1:3	30 min*	>60 min
Harvest Gold	Yellow	Hearty, nutty Very soft	1:2.5	15 min	>30 min*
Petite Crimson / Egyptian	Red, hulled and split	Hearty, meaty Mush	1:2.5	10 min	>30 min*
Beluga / Black / Urad	Black	Fruity and fragrant, sweet Very firm, holds shape well, glossy	1:3	30 min*	>60 min*

*Lentil is best suited for this texture

Note: Older lentils require more water and longer cooking times. These are my very-approximate estimates based on the particular packages of lentils I had. Stir and taste often, adding more cooking liquid as necessary. Thoroughly cooked lentils will be creamy through the entire bite.

And here is, as best as I can duplicate it, Sabuddy's lentil soup. I suspect their version could be even easier to prepare than mine.

Sabuddy-Style, The Best Lentil Soup

Serves: well, that depends on how hungry you are. About two.

2 tbsp olive oil

1 small onion, diced

1 tsp coriander, 1 tsp white pepper

2-4 garlic cloves, minced

1 cup petite crimson "red" lentils, rinsed thoroughly and picked over*

2-3 cups water or stock (I'd actually avoid vegetable stock here - use free-range, organic chicken stock if you have it, or else just water)

1 small Russet potato, cubed to 1/2"

Salt and black pepper to taste

A lemon wedge, if you so desire

*If you can't find red or yellow lentils (check the bulk food section of natural groceries) you might be stuck. Green / brown / black / French lentils will simply not work in this recipe.

Heat the olive oil in a soup pot until it shimmers. Turn heat to medium and add onion, coriander and white pepper to the pot. Cook, stirring, until the onion is translucent. Turn heat to medium-low and add garlic, lentils, water or stock and potatoes. Cover and simmer for 45-60 minutes, stirring often as the soup thickens.

The lentils will soften and completely break down to the point where it looks like you pureed the whole thing in a blender; then, the soup is done. Add extra water or stock if necessary and don't be afraid to cook the soup for longer than stated here: the final soup will have the consistency of a smooth, thin porridge and it will be very creamy. It will thicken as it cools.

Salt and pepper to taste. Serve with good bread and a squeeze of lemon juice.

Notice the powdery stuff on the yellow lentils? That's talc - part of the reason why you need to wash lentils very thoroughly