The Last Of The Gnudi

Because our weather had turned more toward winter than spring, bringing us several days of unusual rain for this time of year, I decided to make a hearty soup to bathe the last of the gnudi. It was easy enough to do as I had a fridge full of veggies and the leftover sauce from this gnudi iteration, so in the morning I went to work, simmered the result for a few hours, turned it off and let it rest, then reheated it for dinner the same day.

I sautéed chopped onion, green garlic, fennel and celery in a tablespoon or so of olive oil, then added the leftover sauce and a big box of organic chicken broth, plus a healthy handful of oregano and thyme from the garden. A little later on, I decided a dollop of red wine couldn't hurt, so that went in as well. The sauce already had some spicy Italian sausage, mushrooms and zucchini, enough to make the soup hearty.

When all that simmering had been accomplished, I added a handful of fresh peas, boiled another pot of salted water for the gnudi and, when they were done, dropped them into the bowls of soup. Somewhere along the line, the soup got plenty of salt - no need to add any - but we did grind some fresh pepper and grate a light sprinkle of ParmReg into our bowls, just to add to the deep funkiness.

The rain was running down the windowpanes and the wind was tossing the treetops around outside as we sat down in a pool of yellow light in the warm house to steaming bowls of gnudi soup.

Threepeat

I guess you could say we are having fun with our big batch of gnudi!

Here's preparation Numero Tre in an ongoing series until we finish them.

By the way, it is not lost on me that having made these gnudi, I have at least four killer meals for two people on hand. I'm retired and don't really need time savers, but if you are working I can recommend making the gnudi on Sunday and enjoying them nearly all week just by whipping up an easy, new and different sauce each evening and boiling another pot of salted water. Che protebbe essere plù facile?

Last night's rendition was the best so far. I started with about a tablespoon of butter, a grinding of fresh pepper and a tad of garlic salt in a little pool of extra virgin olive oil in the bottom of a wide pan. When it was hot and the butter had foamed but not burned (thanks to the oil), I added four or five cloves of minced garlic and let that sizzle over a very low flame to flavor the butter and to soften the garlic. While the garlic was cooking, I boiled up another big pot of salted water for the gnudi.

Using a Meyer lemon, one of the few left from our SOCA care package, I squeezed both halves into the pan with the garlic and mixed it around with the butter/evoo before adding a handful of fresh peas right out of the pod. The water came to a boil and in went another eight gnudi (five for him, three for moi) where they spun and soared in the roiling water for about eight minutes. When the peas had just barely dimpled and were still brightly green, I scooped out the now-floating gnudi with a slotted spoon and dumped them unceremoniously into the lemon butter mixture with the peas. Toss, toss until all were coated evenly, then plated. In our house, Parmesano Reggiano comes to the table in a block with a grater and everyone grates her/his own. That's all there is to it!

The gnudi were just as good this third night as they were the previous two, light as angel food cake, the perfect substrate for whatever sauce you create. This one was our favorite so far - a little tart from the Meyer juice, a little peppery, a lot buttery but redeemed from unctuousness by the fresh peas and the lemon. I may not even invent sauce Numero Quattro - Numero Tre deserves a threepeat.

Take Twodi On Gnudi

Because that first batch of gnudi made quite a number of those little pillows of cheesy goodness, we will have more than one chance to change up the sauces and try new flavors with them.

A case in point, the second iteration of gnudi made the next night, this time with a sauce that began with chopped onion and minced garlic softened in olive oil, then added spicy Italian sausage "meatballs" made by quickly squeezing out little bibbits from their casings into the pan.

Once the sausage bits were browned, I added chunked mushrooms to get nicely brown, then roughly chopped zucchini, a dollop of red wine and about half a cup of an uninspired fresh Bolognese sauce that I had purchased for a different meal and didn't finish. Oregano, pepper, nice. Cooked it all together for about eight minutes while the gnudi boiled, roiling to the top like little white fish, then netted from the water and tossed straight into the pan with the sauce before scooping them out, covered in a bumpy, tasty blanket, into our favorite pasta bowls.

This sauce was killer, really mouthwatering and satisfying all at once. If I hadn't carefully counted out the gnudi, we'd have overeaten - it was that good. Italians know how to build flavor into their dishes, layer by layer until it all sings on the tongue. Take Two on the gnudi was even better than Take One. And there are even more in the fridge!

I wonder if they freeze well?

The Unbearable Lightness of Gnudi

Gnudi. No, not a slice of African antelope. Rather, little logs of local, fresh ricotta cheese held together with a hint of flour, aged cheese and egg and topped, in this case, with a chicken-mushroom-sage-thyme mixture and garnished with fried sage leaves. It all melts in the mouth, from the soft fresh cheese gnudi to the tender smoked chicken and the sage leaves.

It all started when I went to epicurious.com, my usual go-to site for ideas, to figure out what to do with some of my planked chicken from last night's dinner (yes, it's planking season again! Yay!) and my search suggested these little dumpling-like logs made with fresh ricotta, egg and aged cheese. I have heard of gnocchi, but gnudi was a new term to me, so I read further and became intrigued. Gnudi are, essentially, the filling for ravioli without the pasta surrounding. I found several different recipes but the one for which I had the most ingredients on hand was this one.

While there are several steps in the process and this is definitely a remove-your-rings exercise, most can be made ahead and just assembled when gnudi float to the top of the salted water. The recipe made enough for a crowd, too, so I'm sure we'll be eating them in different sauces for more than one meal.

I subbed in my smoked chicken for the prosciutto and button mushrooms for the wild ones (note to self: next time, try the original recipe!) and it made a delicious dinner, first time out. I have lots of changes that I'd make next time - more aged cheese, more pepper, wild mushrooms instead of tame, more herbs in the sauce, brown the mushrooms longer, try the spinach version - but we really enjoyed the airy texture of the gnudi and the rich funginess of the sauce.

Another new thing to me was the fried sage leaves. I have always carefully removed them from any dish in which they were included at restaurants, Fearing the Fried Fuzz and not wanting to have to (gag on) remove them in public. In private, I manned up and tasted one. It was amazing - disappearing instantly into nothing but flavor on the tongue.

Next time you are offered gnudi (not gnu) try them. They are a treat. And don't worry about gagging on the fried sage leaves.