Cookery writers love to fiddle. Of course, as recipes go, there is nothing new under the sun, but that doesn’t stop creative attempts at recipe development. However, it is humbling to accept that sometimes the best just can’t be improved….much.

The credit for the success of the gnocchi element of this recipe goes to Chef Thomas Keller. Save for the addition of sage and nutmeg (see what I mean – fiddling!) I have kept this gnocchi recipe true to his instructions.

Chef Keller has been a culinary mentor to me. Not in the literal sense, but rather through the pages of his legendary cookbook, The French Laundry. Ever since its publication, in 1999, it has become a cherished resource for professional chefs and home cooks alike.

During the grey days of working as a creative in corporate, early in the morning and late at night, when the world seemed to be fast asleep, I would often cook as a form of therapy. At those times, like a firm but kind teacher, the voice of Chef Keller would be right there, offering sage advice:

“When you acknowledge, as you must, that there is no such thing as perfect food, only the idea of it, then the real purpose of striving toward perfection becomes clear: to make people happy. That’s what cooking is all about.” Chef Thomas Keller

Forgive me for this slight detour from the recipe, but I really wanted to share this happy memory with you. One balmy July afternoon this summer I was thrilled to find myself in the delightful town of Yountville, Napa, enjoying a cup of Earl Grey tea with none other than Chef Thomas Keller and the inimitable TFL’s chef de cuisine, David Breeden. This surreal scene found us relaxing under an apple tree in the restaurant garden amongst a profusion of colourful blooms and vegetation. Believe it or not, there I was, sitting on a bench, reading some of my stories and reflections about food to these two culinary giants. More on that another time, I promise.

Onto the gnocchi – a simple enough dish one would imagine, certainly not one that would lead to fevered dreams of hurling gnocchi pellets across the kitchen in a fit of rage. Do I speak from experience? Certainly not. However, it is important to note that I have no natural patience. To be sure, I am trying to become a patient and measured cook, but it certainly doesn’t come naturally.

Growing up I often observed my mother’s intuitive additions to recipes – a little bit of this, a little bit of that. Certainly, formal recipe developing and writing remained a foreign concept to me for many years. Sure, I loved cookery books, after all, my mum’s eclectic collection featured descriptions and images of dishes such as: Pickled Pig Trotters, Woodcock of the Sea, Bedfordshire Clangers, Stoved Howtowdie with Drappit Eggs, Hare in Chocolate Sauce and Grilled Sheep’s Head with Aioli. I’m rather disappointed that none of these recipes were ever actually tested because Hare in Chocolate Sauce doesn’t sound half bad. Nevertheless, on certain pages, amongst the sauce stains and scribbles, I observed that Mum often used recipes as little more than a starting point from which she veered off-piste and created, as if by magic, an iteration which always seemed to turn out perfectly.

When I first realized that I wanted to cook as a career kitchen days would tend to evolve in a somewhat haphazard fashion. Initially inspired by some image or other, I would be convinced that a particularly fabulous dish could be achieved immediately. To be sure, there was preparation of a sort. This would start with a hurried sketch of what a dish might look like plated up – a round of applause for the art degree that didn’t go to waste. Then, with the pages of my recipe notebook brimming with annotated tasting notes I would head to the farmers’ market to grab whichever ingredients I lacked, and on return, line up a rough looking mise-en-place before launching straight into cooking.

On one particularly inspired occasion I decided I was going to make beetroot gnocchi. I had never made gnocchi before, but that didn’t dissuade me from proceeding as if I had. First, I made the disastrous mistake of whizzing the potatoes and beetroot in a food processor to save time. What could possibly go wrong? Everything it seemed. The result was a sticky, heavy, earthy flavored glutinous paste, good for filling cracks in walls, but not stomachs. Although this must already be apparent, I may add that as well as impatient, I am also stubborn. So, even though the concoction did not look right, nevertheless I soldiered on adding increasing quantities of flour. When assembled, to my mind the gnocchi resembled rotund blood thirsty caterpillars. My mother’s interpretation was no more flattering: she thought the dull red color of the gnocchi was more suggestive of unappetizing pieces of raw steak. Ouch.

For this recipe I have taken Chef Keller’s technique and simply added a tablespoon of dried sage and a few pinches of freshly grated nutmeg – no beetroot, no food processor, only minor fiddling. Of course, you could add whichever root vegetables you like, frankly though, I wouldn’t bother. Gnocchi doesn’t get much better than this.

Where this recipe becomes magical is in the crisping of the gnocchi at the very last stage of cooking. That, together with my parmigiano reggiano cream sauce and honey drizzle and you are well on your way to plated perfection. As for time saving? Don’t bother with that either. If you’re on the hunt for a one pot wonder meal, look elsewhere. This takes time, and so it should as there is pleasure to be found at every stage.

I am not partial to drinking or listening to music whilst cooking, but if you are so inclined, this maybe the time to open that bottle of white that has been collecting dust in the cellar, before adding the dulcet tones of Nat King Cole. Enjoy.

I found that the dough scraper method didn’t fully combine the mixture so I used the back of my hand to finish the process working lightly and very quickly until the mixture became homogeneous. The dough shouldn’t be too sticky on the outside so add more flour if needed.

Shape the dough into a ball and then cut into 4-6 equal sections. On a lightly floured surface roll each section into a long ½ inch snake shape. Cut these into individual ½ inch wide pieces and then gently mould each piece into a round circle shape.

If you have one, use a gnocchi paddle to create indents, otherwise, roll the gnocchi quickly and swiftly across the tines on the back of a fork to create the signature pattern. Now, place the gnocchi pieces on a board or flat surface covered in parchment paper and set aside until ready to boil.

Cook the gnocchi in boiling salted water for approx. 2 minutes. You will know the gnocchi is cooked when they rise triumphantly to the surface.

Place the cooked gnocchi in a bowl of iced water to halt the cooking process and then drain on a paper towel. Note: You can store the gnocchi in the refrigerator if using that day or freeze them in appropriate bags or containers for up to several weeks – super useful if you have last minute guests as you can cook the gnocchi straight from frozen – hurrah!

Pan-frying

Now for the extra fun part. When ready to serve your guests (or yourself), add the gnocchi to a searing hot pan containing a little melted butter and oil. Cook until golden brown on one side – a few minutes will do. TIP: Resist the urge to stir them too early, otherwise they will stick.