This crispy, buttery sun-dried tomato and rosemary gnocchi is the perfect fall dinner

Earlier this week, I spotted a woman getting out of a car, wearing a familiar Gucci logo emblazoned on her black t-shirt. But after blinking and rubbing my eyes, I realized that the word under the emblem most certainly wasn’t “Gucci.” 

Instead, there in bold, white letters, the word “Gnocchi” was scrawled across the shirt — the same one, I might add, that was once sported by Joe Gorga of “Real Housewives of New Jersey” fame — proud and brazen. As someone who was born and raised in a predominantly Italian-American area, I understood the appeal. 

Unlike other Italian-American mainstays like chicken parmesan and spaghetti and meatballs, I didn’t grow up with gnocchi. Instead, I developed an appreciation for the labor-intensive nature of the gnocchi-making process in the years before entering culinary school and made it a point to master the dish while in school. 

Without tooting my own horn too much, I’d say it’s safe to say that I did just that. (Commence horn blowing now)

Akin to puffy, light clouds and landing halfway between a toothsome noodle and a soft, doughy dumpling, gnocchi is a familiar yet unique offering in the Italian American culinary landscape lexicon. They pair beautifully with practically anything, from heavier sauces like Bolognese or pesto cream, to the simplicity of a basic marinara, to the richness of browned butter with sage and a bit of lemon. 

This adaptability makes them a particularly wonderful “pasta” choice, and there’s a pliant, gentle familiarity of the food that makes them particularly ideal when feeling under the weather, down in the dumps, or your preferred phrase or idiom for just not feeling your best. Gnocchi’s pillowy, airy nature is a perfect panacea. 

As I’ve mentioned before, culinary school was one of the first times that I felt pride in my half-Italian heritage. As I began embracing this aspect of my nationality more and more as the program continued, I knew that I wanted to craft an Italian-focused dish for my upcoming practical examinations. 

For one of them, we had to make a composed dish that featured a protein, a starch, a vegetable and a sauce. I think I overshot the mark, but I aimed for a sauteed chicken dish with a carrot puree, crisped pancetta, a simple beurre blanc and (you guessed it) — gnocchi. 

I thought it’d be an interesting way to show that I was game for more challenging approaches and would take the time and effort to make gnocchi from scratch, as opposed to just hitting the “starch” mark by mashing potatoes or serving some rice pilaf. 

I got my sauce together, I cooked my chicken perfectly, I roasted some fennel with gruyere and I mastered my silky, rich carrot puree.  The gnocchi, on the other hand, was a debacle. 

I repeatedly roasted Idaho potatoes until they became crisp and strikingly hot, then waited a bit until they could be handled with my gloved hands, but for some reason, the “dough” just wasn’t coming together. I scrapped it, tried again, and had the same result. I took a breather and ran through my mental rolodex, trying to come up with what the issue was, deciding that I wouldn’t pivot away from gnocchi as my “starch” and that I’d commit to resolve the problem before the clock ran out.

Amazingly, the third round went perfectly. The potatoes were tender, the eggs and cheeses blended in perfectly, I took pride in rolling out the dough, using my bench scraper to portion the gnocchi before marking them with the tines of a fork. Then I opted to pan-sear the gnocchi instead of boiling them. 

This is 100% a personal choice, by the way. The classic dish is almost always cooked in boiling, salted water. I just find that it can be very easy to overcook and wind up with bloated, waterlogged potato balls as opposed to the perfect pillowy, airy gnocchi. 

Then came the time to plate the dish. I began by smearing the puree and topping it with gnocchi and pancetta, before serving the  fennel and gruyere frico-topped chicken alongside. I then drizzled the beurre blanc over the top. 

I presented it to my chef-instructor and got the highest marks in the class during that practical. I’m still pretty proud of myself for that one. I remember thinking that I could be the burgeoning “gnocchi king” — Nina Compton was competing on Top Chef at that same time and was known as the “gnocchi queen,” so the moniker seemed to be fun and potentially fitting. Regardless, something about the variability of the dough, the tactile nature of rolling out and hurriedly cutting the dough, and proudly plating a dish of my own making was immensely satisfying. 

Salon Food writes about stuff we think you’ll like. Salon has affiliate partnerships, so we may get a share of the revenue from your purchase.