ahbaker
Dispatches from the City of Angels


Where Food-y Dreams Go To Die
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I’ve said it before, and I say it again. I watch way, way too much Food Network.

I watch Giada De Laurentiis layering the perfect lasagna, and I dream that some day I – a Northern European decedent with the figure of your average yard stick – could become an Italian cooking/sex goddess, too. (Is it garlic that gives you bazooms like that?)

And because what’s a dream without action? I scour my local mega-mart for semolina flour. I lather myself in olive oil. And I, in an Italian-cooking/sex-goddess frenzy, attempt to make Gnocchi alla Romana just like Giada.

(Note: This gnocchi is nothing at all like the usual potato dumplings. This is the Roman version or so she tells me. And I worship her, so I’m going with it.)

Things went well at first. I combined the chicken stock with the semolina and the salt. I stirred constantly. And, as promised, my mixture began to bubble and thicken. Next step. The recipe says that I should add my thickened mixture gradually to a bowl with one beaten egg. Now as I watch way, way too much Food Network, I know they are instructing me to temper my egg. (i.e. adding a little of the hot stuff to the egg to raise the temperature of the egg slowly without causing it to scramble) I try this.

Lesson number one: Egg tempering is a myth. Hot bubbling things cook eggs. Add it slowly, add it quickly, stir, don’t stir. It doesn’t matter. Stuff hot. Eggs cook. Period.

So I spend a fair bit of time picking cooked egg out of my mixture. That aside, things are still going relatively well. My thick goopy mess looks just like Giada’s thick goopy mess. Italian goddess-ness, here I come.

I spread my mixture onto my sheet pan and refrigerate. And, as predicted, my goopy mess has solidified into a gelatinous sheet, which I slice into portions.

Top with cheese and butter and broil until brown, it says. Okey-dokey.

Lesson number two: Gelatinous things usually become un-gelatinous when exposed to heat in excess of 500 degrees.

Lesson number three: Scooping said mess onto a plate and trying to cover it with marinara sauce won’t help.

I am clearly not cut out for this goddess business.


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