“In the beginning, there were gnocchi.” No, this is not the introduction to a forgotten biblical text, but instead how I kick off the gnocchi section of my cookbook. And it’s true: Derived from the word gnocco, meaning “knot” or “lump,” gnocchi are the mother of all pasta, first recorded in writing in the 14th century, but surely made for centuries before. Although today we associate gnocchi with potatoes, potato gnocchi are actually one of the youngest members of the gnocchi family, arising in Italy only after the arrival of the starchy tubers from the Americas in the 16th century. Instead, gnocchi made from all types of flour—chestnut, rice, rye—came first, along with those made from leftovers like stale bread. And among the oldest gnocchi ancestors are custardy discs of semolina and our February Pasta of the Month: Gnocchi alla Romana.
The first time I came across gnocchi alla Romana was when my husband set a plate of them in front of me about ten years ago. It had never occurred to me that gnocchi could be anything but the bite-sized pillows that, despite their fluffy texture, had a proclivity for settling like rocks in my stomach and making me fall asleep. But these flat semolina circles, although drenched in butter and buried in cheese, were somehow both luscious and light. I licked the plate clean and managed to keep my eyes open all the while.
As you can probably guess, gnocchi alla Romana is a dish most popular in, well, Rome. And as you can also probably guess, there’s some debate about their origins. These gnocchi are enriched with eggs and dairy (milk, butter, cheese), products typically associated with northern Italian cuisine. Some suggest that they actually originated in Piedmont, not the capital in Lazio, where they were called gnocchi “alla Romena” (Romanian-style) before the name got jumbled through the grapevine. I’m still giving credit to Rome—no place claims greater devotion to gnocchi, with one day a week proudly reserved for eating the dumplings in their myriad forms (Thursdays, by the way; dubbed “giovedì gnocchi”). You’ll also find similar semolina-based gnocchi in Trentino (canederli di gries) and Sardinia (pillas), further proof that they’re well-loved throughout the peninsula.
Perhaps my favorite thing about gnocchi alla Romana is how easy they are to make. Whereas potato gnocchi can be finicky—easily too sticky, too gluey, too tough—it’s harder to get gnocchi alla Romana wrong than it is to get them right: Just mix up a polenta-adjacent batter, spread it onto a baking sheet, let it set, and cut it into rounds. You don’t need to worry about overworking the dough or using too much flour; the fat from the dairy ensures the dumplings are creamy and tender, while the semolina gives them structure and a bit of bite. The result are gnocchi that melt in your mouth without being mushy, made all the better considering the low ratio of effort to reward.
The most common way to serve gnocchi alla Romana is just as simple as their assembly: with butter and cheese. Typically, the discs are layered into a baking dish, dressed with melted butter, and finished with a hefty grating of Parmigiano-Reggiano, then baked in the oven until golden and bubbly. But you’ll also find these gnocchi served “alla Sorrentina,” with tomatoes, mozzarella, and basil; with various cured pork products and vegetables; or with bechamel and other creamy sauces. There is no shortage of traditional gnocchi alla Romana recipes out there, and so, in my usual not-so-traditional fashion, I’ve served mine atop a sauce of seared mushrooms (for depth and texture) and Fontina cheese (for nuttiness and general awesomeness). It’s rich, comforting, and satisfying—perfect for winter!—while also being a little unexpected.
Before I go, I’ll mention that although this recipe can, of course, be made in one day, it also lends itself particularly well to advance preparation and storage. Make the dough on day one and let it set overnight, then cut the gnocchi and assemble the dish on day two (this is what I did). You can also assemble the whole thing on day one and bake it off on day two; leftovers are equally delicious after being reheated in the oven (I did this, too). All great options for a wintry weekend project or, if you’re looking for a centerpiece that’s out of the ordinary, your next dinner party.
Roman-Style Gnocchi (Gnocchi alla Romana) with Mushrooms & Fontina
Serves 4 to 6