Enjoy gnocchi as in Paris

The wine shopping at Alice Hartmann was always an experience. Her Rieslings were among the finest in the Luxembourg Moselle. The Grande Dame produced only about 20000 bottles a year among the winemakers, and they personally sold her to the purest arbitrariness of her customers. If you did not like her, you did not even have to think about getting even one bottle. She just had character and could afford it: her wine spoke for itself. Once a year, she invited me to dinner with a subsequent wine tasting, always with one or more of her clients. Because secretly she was very interested in hearing what they told each other about them, and was amused by it deliciously. First of all, she always gave us a young Riesling, properly chilled (10 degrees) and hand-cut glasses. The first sip of the pure, pleasantly sour Mosel wine at twelve noon, when the taste buds are working at full speed, was an absolute delight!

Together with her housekeeper Maria, she managed to delight me every year with a perfectly cooked gnocchi à la Parisienne. But just as she pronounced the word "Parisienne" in her most beautiful French ... The most wonderful scent of baked cheese spread in the house, and the gnocchi were brought punctually and solemnly into the best room by the Maria. They came in a rectangular, refractory glass bowl on a decorated silver plate, steaming hot, high as a soufflé and with the spicy-sweet smell of genuine Emmentaler and Béchamel sauce.

The table was always covered with beautiful old linen, the silver cutlery and the pale white napkins were wearing their monogram. The gnocchi were then served in relatively small portions on the finest Meißener plates. I would never have imagined that simple gnocchi could be so noble presented; and that's how they taste: noble, delicious and light.

That's how the gnocchi are made

In a pot with a thick bottom, I heat a quart of milk with 75 grams of butter. Meanwhile I sieve 150 grams of flour and mix it with a good pinch of salt and a pinch of fresh grated nutmeg. As soon as the milk boils, I pull it off the stove and add the flour mixture for a jerk. Now I have to stir everything well and put it back on the stove, because it is necessary to cook the dough. Once the whole thing is a thick lump and nice and tight, I put it in a large plastic bowl, work successively three eggs underneath and gently stir the dough over and over again. Finally, add 75 grams of finely grated Parmesan to the dough, which is then filled into a piping bag with a smooth round spout. Now I bring salt water to a boil in a large pot, put the piping bag on the edge and cut the dough every two centimeters with a knife.

I let the gnocchi poach for three to four minutes, so pull in the no longer boiling water. When they have grown and grown up, I put them on a dry kitchen towel.

Then the béchamel sauce is made: I melt a tablespoon of butter in the pot and add a heaping tablespoon of sieved flour. Always stir well, so it does not clump! I just sweat briefly to keep the sauce bright. Then I take off 150 milliliters of milk and 125 milliliters of chicken stock, add salt and some white pepper from the mill. The whole thing I let it boil nice and stir it constantly with the whisk. Done! From this quarter liter of béchamel sauce is now a "sauce mornay": For this I open in a cup of egg yolk, grind it with 70 grams of cream and let the sauce boil. Then stir in the egg and cream mixture - but the sauce should not cook any more! - and another 25 grams of finely grated Emmentaler and Parmesan. Finally, I butter a large mold, coat the bottom with some sauce, put the gnocchi in and cover it with the rest of the sauce. Then I sprinkle 40 grams of grated Emmentaler and Parmesan on top, add two tablespoons of butter in little flakes on top and let the gnocchi in the oven at 180 degrees for about 30 minutes to gratinate. Voilà! Yes, Alice Hartmann knew to invite and to get the best out of everything - the magnificent gnocchi cost a maximum of two euros per capita!

Bon appétit and see you next time!