Gnocci

 This meal is a memory for me.  I was already having an emotional day for some reason when I started this dish.  Italian comfort food.  Little potato pasta dumplings.  

The last time I went to my Grandma’s house she taught me how to make it at my request. I had driven myself there with my brother and a friend.  It was over my Christmas break sophomore year of college.  It was my last visit because she passed away that spring.  We made a small batch together, and her instructions were not like a typical recipe, more of a tactile guideline “Just add in flour till it feels like this…”A little hard to remember 20+ years later.  She didn’t teach me how to roll it down a fork to make the little ridges.  She didn’t fuss with those. I had to pick that up from the internet.  Time consuming and unnecessary maybe.  Her food wasn’t trying to be fancy or impress you.  Gnocci was just a humble dumpling she made for her picky eater granddaughter who wouldn’t eat the eggplant parm or ravioli she was serving.

I imagined her with me as I cooked today.  Maybe she would have thought I was doing it wrong or taking some silly unnecessary steps.  But I’m sure she wouldn’t have criticized.  I could almost hear her say, “Isn’t that nice!?!” As she always did.