The recipe from the New York Times was called “Crispy Gnocchi with Burst Tomatoes and Mozzarella.” It sounded like it might have been quite a delectable dish, and I suppose it might have tasted so had it been prepared by a careful cook. The dish I served was palatable but lacked . . . well, actually it lacked a great deal. Alas, I am the founding member of the organization I have taken to calling “The Careless Cook Club.” I am certain that there are other yet anonymous potential members, and I hope they will begin to tell their stories and join my association.
As was my custom, I began my evening activities in the kitchen, and I began the process of preparing this repast by filling my crystal tumbler with a single-malt scotch whiskey. I lifted the glass to my lips and took a substantial mouthful; I was ready. I placed the printed recipe on the granite countertop and turned a bright light on the single sheet. Then, I pulled out of the freezer the gnocchi that I had purchased at Whole Foods several days prior. This pasta was definitely cold! While I cut open the plastic package and peeled the frozen gnocchi out of the wrapper, I heated the 9x9 cast-iron skillet with medium high heat (from the directions, I thought!) into which I had placed a tablespoon of olive oil, or so approximately. I added the 17.6-ounce mass of frozen gnocchi to the heated skillet. It was certainly very cold and very solid, not unlike the iceberg that sank the Titanic. I recognized that perhaps my freezer was working overtime and left myself a mental reminder (that I promptly forgot) to lower the freezer temperature just a tad. My intent was not to make any dramatic change in the freezer environment that might upset the comfort and consistency of the salted caramel gelato resting patiently on the shelf.
The recipe directions for the crispy gnocchi ordered me to break up any individual pieces from the mass that remained stuck together, but in fact what I confronted was a huge frozen rock-face of gnocchi stuck solidly together in a large bulk—it was apparent that should I proceed with the recipe direction the inner pieces of the mass would be released into the pan and the outer pieces would be burnt to a crisp. I decided to speed up the process and so I added another tablespoon of olive oil. Climate change notwithstanding, I knew that this solid mass was not going to be soon unfrozen in the 9” cast-iron skillet but I also understood that changing the pan at this point seemed a useless strategy. I would have to heat up the second pan and then add yet more olive oil. And where would I stash the frozen mass until the pan was ready for it? And then I realized that should I so proceed there would be another dish to have to wash clean by the dedicated and lovely dishwasher. (Every careless cook needs a careful cleaner-upper and I am blessed with the best of the class.) So I took another significant swallow of scotch and decided to add another tablespoon of olive oil to the pan, and turn the temperature on the stove up just a bit. I acknowledged that if I ever attempted this recipe again (an enterprise becoming more doubtful by the tablespoon) I should probably defrost the mass of gnocchi prior to preparation. And while I was considering this eventuality, another mischance occurred: the water from the too-slowly melting frozen gnocchi fell into the now sizzling oil in the pan and a not insignificant splattering of oil flew up out of the pan and covered the stovetop. Oh well, I considered, the lovely cleaner-upper will scrub it spotless later.
I continued to add olive oil to the skillet hoping to speed the thawing of the frozen mass, but as it is said, a watched pot never boils. While the completely thawed gnocchi was supposed to be crisping, the recipe directed that I cover the pan or skillet with a lid or a baking sheet and to cook undisturbed. I was very upset by the frozen rock-face sitting in the 9x9 cast-iron skillet and berating myself for not pre-thawing the gnocchi and I neglected to place any cover at all over the pan. I am not certain what purpose the cover might have served and besides, the rock-face of gnocchi prevented any cover or lid being placed over the skillet.
But finally, all of the gnocchi pieces were released though they were unfortunately unevenly browned and coated too-heavily in olive oil. I persevered. As the recipe suggested, I removed the gnocchi from the heat and placed it/them in a bowl to rest (to rest?) while I added 1/8 cup of butter to the skillet again over medium high heat. I was supposed to stir the butter often, but I got a bit distracted by a song on the radio, and as I sought the artist on the station website playlist the butter began to brown just a bit too brownly. I muttered a curse and hurriedly added the two cloves of garlic I had sliced thinly and a ¼ teaspoon of red pepper flakes. But then I remembered that I was preparing only ½ recipe and grumbled that I had now added twice the called for amount of this seasoning. I successfully added just the required amount of salt for the half-recipe (!) and reduced the heat as the recipe directed “to avoid scorching,” but I considered that it was obviously too late for that caution.
I didn’t experience much concern about my ability to manage the pint of cherry tomatoes because they were to be added whole. I had placed the plastic container on the counter space by the stove ready to be added whenever the recipe demanded that I do so, but I love tomatoes and so before they were sacrificed to the skillet I ate five or seven of them and then there was now much less than a pint of the lovely red vegetable to be added to the still somewhat undercooked and carelessly partially charred gnocchi. I still added what was left of the tomatoes and 11/2 tablespoons of water to the skillet (as directed) and shook the pan occasionally while the tomatoes softened and the liquid supposedly was to thicken. But by this time the skillet was so hot that the added water immediately evaporated and rather than the sauce thickening I think the mixture either never became sauce in the first place or simply vanished from the heat. Anyway, at the end there was very little sauce in the pan. I was just fortunate that I didn’t burn my hand in the pan-shaking! I smashed the tomatoes with a wooden spoon—maybe a bit too forcefully, for the juices flew out of the skilled and joined the oil that had covered the stovetop.
Step 4 of the recipe called for adding the cooked gnocchi back to the skillet with 1/8 cup of basil, but I had neglected to read the recipe through before I went to the grocery store and so I didn’t have any basil. I substituted added dried basil, but I don’t believe that was a sufficient substitution. I shook the pan (as directed to create an even layer of gnocchi—and then topped the pasta with mozzarella cheese. Alas, when I had shopped I had recalled that in the cheese compartment in the refrigerator I already possessed shredded mozzarella cheese for pizza baking and so I didn’t think to purchase from the cheese department of the local grocery store a ball of fresh mozzarella that the recipe had required. Well, I considered that the shredded cheese would be tasty enough though less attractive substitute, though I recognized that my dish was not going to look like the photo that showed on the recipe. About this I was certainly correct; my crispy gnocchi with Burst Tomatoes and Mozzarella didn’t look very much at all like the dish prepared by Ali Slagle. As directed, I finished the dish by putting the skillet under the broiler until the mozzarella melted and slightly browned, but I had forgotten to pre-heat the broiler and so while the oven heated up nothing much occurred except that the dish began to dry out.
When finally the dish looked in spots browned enough, though certainly browned unevenly due to the use of shredded rather than whole chunks of mozzarella cheese, I pulled the skillet out of the oven. The recipe said to top the dish with fresh basil, but alas, as I have said, I didn’t have any of this herb, and then it suggested I add to the topping some additional red pepper flakes, but I had already added too much of this spice to the dish, and so I declined this suggestion.
I brought the dish to the table in the skillet and placed it on the trivet and my lovely companion and careful cleaner-upper looked tentatively at it but politely expressed her delight. We dined in peace nevertheless. Ah, there was not an insignificant quantity left over that we dedicated to the compost tin, made a few comments about what we should and should not do if ever we again attempted this dish, and I abandoned her for the faux Eames chair to deal with my mess.
