An ode to $5 Gnocchi
An ode to Gnocchi.
I’m in Montreal, I’ve eaten a ton of delicious food here. I’ve gone to some very nice, fairly high end restaurants and some other cheaper ones. You know what has been the best thing that has caressed my chapstick addicted lips? Five dollar Gnocchi. Since the first time I had it, it’s crossed my mind in about 7 minute increments for 3 days straight. I may or may not have eaten it twice in 3 days, which says a lot, considering Montreal is an incredible food city.
Let me set the scene. The tiny little place serving it sits on a street between two very popular and touristy haunts. Fairmount bagels and Wilensky’s. These are two very famous and established eateries. Both doing simple things very well. Did I choose to eat at either? Nope, the tiny stand in-between them is what sparked my interest. It’s a walk up counter with one employee serving one thing, gnocchi with red sauce. There are two pots on the stovetop and two bowls housing parmesan and red pepper flakes, that’s it. How can a place that serves only one thing survive? By dishing out pillows of pure carb-y comfort that speaks to your inner fat kid soul. You know that scene from Ratatouille when the food critic is swept back in to his childhood with one bite? That’s what this was like, except my mother isn’t Italian and has never made gnocchi in her life, but for the sake of theatrics, we’ll say she is and has. This is what I love about food, whether you pay $300 for a meal or $3, the quality could very well be the same. It’s all subjective to the person consuming it, we all have very different palates and memories. Sometimes those memories can be far more important than the actual meal sitting in front of you. Each person at the table could be having a wildly different experience. That’s what is interesting to me. You could be eating the best food in the world, but if your date is a shitty person and a picky eater, that will certainly taint your view of the experience and probably won’t rustle up any happy nostalgia later on. There is a certain vulnerability that comes with showing people your favorite things, if they don’t like it, it makes you feel as if they don’t like an extension of you. It’s a gamble that not every Tinder date is worthy of. Choose wisely my friends.
Gnocchi is only 4 ingredients, none of which are particularly exciting. Potatoes, flour, eggs and salt. That’s it. When combined they are formed in to tiny little pillows of actual heaven. Paired with a well made pesto or tomato sauce? Take all my money and skinny jeans and give it to me. My first real exposure to a properly made gnocchi was by my ex-boyfriend. We had a habit of making massive Sunday dinners. One Sunday, we bought a potato ricer and he turned those 4 simple things in to clouds of potato goodness. I was hooked and from then on I begged for them roughly 3 times a week. That’s the funny thing about dating a chef, they don’t want to make you and the rest of the world scratch made pasta every single day, who knew? Maybe that was the nostalgia for me, not my childhood, but my early twenties. Good memories of cooking, dancing, eating way too much and listening to 90’s hip hop.
I thought a post about Montreal would have a lot more French influence, but for now Italy has stolen my heart. I promise to give you a bigger, less zoomed in idea of Montreal, but I’ve got to digest all this delicious gnocchi and take a nap. After that, we’ll chat.
One last thing, what is a nostalgic meal for you? I need to know! :)
xx
J
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