Included in 19th century cooking manuals, according to Mary Urrutia Randelman these fritters were sold by Chinese street vendors calling out “Bollitos! Frituras!” through the streets of Havana.  It all seemed very poetic, but when I sat down to the task I couldn’t help but think it should be easier.  Was there a trick to it that I was missing?  I could picture entire families sitting around the table and pitching in to peel the peas.

The frying at least was simple as promised.  Quickly processed with mashed garlic and lightly seasoned with salt and pepper, I thought the batter was way too loose, but when I dropped it in the oil (with my new favorite gadget the cookie scoop), they puffed up and went gold in a couple of seconds.  In their raw state, they tasted something like soy beans but once fried they had a bread-like texture I wasn’t expecting.  I sprinkled them with lime juice but they really started singing when I added a mango-pepper jelly to set off the bite from the garlic.  A few frituritas later, I decided maybe they weren’t too much trouble after all.

Bollitos de Frijoles de Caritas/Black-Eyed Pea Fritters
Adapted from Memories of a Cuban Kitchen: More Than 200 Classic Recipes by Mary Urrutia Randelman and Joan Schwartz.  

1/2 pound black-eyed peas, dried, picked through and well rinsed
4-5 whole garlic cloves, mashed
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
2-4 tablespoons water (optional)

Soak the black-eyed peas in water at least 8 hours or overnight. Change water at least twice.

Drain peas and rinse well.  Rub off the outer husks with the black spots, saving the white beans.  Combine the beans, garlic, salt and pepper in the bowl of a food processor.  Pulse until it forms a smooth paste adding water if needed.  Adjust seasoning to taste.

In a heavy skillet, heat 2 inches of oil over medium-high heat to 375º.  Working in batches, scoop out one rounded tablespoon of the bean mixture and add to the oil, 5-6 at a time.  Turn the fritters with a slotted spoon until they are puffed up and golden, about 1-2 minutes.  Be careful not to overcrowd the skillet or the oil temperature will fall.  Remove fritters from oil and drain on paper towels.

Sprinkle with lime and serve.

For the squash:
Cut off and discard the stem end of the squash, then cut off the neck (reserve bulb for another use).  Peel deep enough to reach the bright orange flesh of the squash.  Cut it lengthwise into 1/2-inch-thick slices then cut the slices into 1/2-inch dice. (You need about 3 cups diced squash.) If you have less than 3 cups, peel the bulb of the squash, cut it in half, and scrape out the seeds.  Trim and cut as much of the bulb as you need into 1/2-inch dice. Reserve the remaining squash for another use.

Line a baking sheet with paper towels.

Heat a thin film of canola oil over medium heat in a skillet large enough to hold the squash in a single layer (or cook the squash in two batches). When the oil is hot, add the butter and brown it lightly. Add the squash, salt and pepper to taste, and the sage leaves. Cook, stirring the pieces to brown them on all sides until tender, about 4 to 6 minutes.  Drain the squash on one end of the paper towel–lined baking sheet and set aside the sage leaves for the garnish. Wipe out the skillet with a paper towel and set aside.

For the mushrooms:
Trim away the tough stems and cut the caps into 1/4-inch-thick slices.

Heat a thin film of canola oil in the same skillet over high heat. When the oil begins to smoke, add the mushrooms and salt and sauté for about a minute. The mushrooms will absorb the oil and should not weep any liquid. Add the butter, shallots, thyme, and pepper, then toss and sauté until the mushrooms are thoroughly cooked, 3 to 4 minutes total. Drain the mushrooms on the paper towel–lined baking sheet.

The gnocchi should be cooked in two skillets: Wipe out the mushroom skillet with paper towels and add a light coating of olive oil to it and to a second large skillet.  Heat the oil over medium-high heat until hot. Add 1 tablespoon of the butter to each skillet. When the butter has browned, divide the gnocchi between the two skillets and season to taste with salt and pepper. Once the gnocchi have begun to brown, shake and rotate the skillets, tossing the gnocchi so that they brown and crisp on all sides, about 2-3 minutes.

Add the squash, mushrooms, and chives and heat just through. Spoon the gnocchi and vegetables onto serving plates and return one skillet to high heat. Add the remaining 2 tablespoons butter and cook until it is a rich brown, then quickly add the parsley to crackle for a few seconds. Standing back—the butter will spatter—add a squeeze of lemon half. Spoon the brown butter and herbs over the gnocchi and around the plates. Garnish with the reserved sage leaves.

Nothing takes the fear out of making a soufflé like making three in a row.  I found a recipe for one combined with amaranth that I couldn’t wait to try.  My training for this year’s New York City marathon is nearing the 20-mile mark so I’ve been cooking up batches of  amaranth to have on hand for cereal topped with honey and fruit.  While adding eggs and cheese may not be the best way to enjoy my vitamin high grain, it sounded wonderful and I’d been so good.

I used the last of the Roncal for the base and whipped up the egg whites to beak-of the-bird perfection.  I set it in the oven and congratulated myself on having an early night before a long run.  Then I realized that my whites may have been perfect but I’d forgotten to fold them before putting it the mold into the oven.  The egg yolks and cheese base just sat there, unsure of what to do next.  It was too late for my soufflé but I had some cooked amaranth left and just enough Gruyere to make another one.  My early night gone, I rushed.  Folding in my next batch of less than perfect egg whites, it still puffed up as hoped and I finally had my (now late) dinner.  Loving the way the tiny grains disappeared into the eggs like polenta, I was excited to try it again with quinoa.

Originally cultivated in the Andes approximately 5,000 years ago, quinoa is actually a seed in grains’ clothing.  A staple crop for the Incas, their rulers ceremoniously planted the first row with golden implements at the start of each growing season.  Packed with protein, fiber and amino acids, it’s a nearly complete food.  Quinoa can be buff or black but I thought red, sometimes sold as “Inca Red”, would be a nice contrast.  With all the time in the world and some unexpected practice, I wasn’t as apprehensive.  I’m not sure if noise really brings down a soufflé but I can attest that this one survived a double-Yorkie barking attack.  While not creamy like the amaranth, it retained just enough snap from the quinoa to keep it interesting.  Third time is the charm.

Soufflé de Quinoa/Quinoa Soufflé
Barely adapted from Maria Baez Kijac’s The South American Table.  Quinoa should be thoroughly rinsed in cold water, 2-3 times, to remove any trace of bitterness caused by saponin, a naturally occurring insecticide coating the grain.  The original recipe called for one cup of cooked amaranth which can be easily substituted for the quinoa.  Click here for a great article on beating egg whites and fearless souffle making.

2 tablespoons bread crumbs
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons unbleached, all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon white pepper
Pinch of freshly grated nutmeg
1 cup hot milk
4 large eggs, separated
4 ounces Gouda, Gruyere, or Roncal cheese, finely shredded
2 cups cooked quinoa, red, buff, or black

Preheat the oven to 400°F.  Generously butter a 6-8 cup ceramic mold with butter and sprinkle it with bread crumbs.  Make sure that the bottom and sides are completely covered and shake out the excess.

To make the roux, melt the butter over medium heat in a small saucepan.  Beat in the flour with a wooden spoon and cook until foamy but not browned, about 2 minutes.  Off heat, add the hot milk, whisking constantly to incorporate.  Return to a boil over medium heat and cook until just thickened, about one minute and remove from heat.  Immediately add the seasonings.  Beat in the egg yolks one at a time.  Stir in the cheese until melted and add the cooked quinoa.  Empty into a large mixing bowl and set aside.

In a separate bowl or using a stand mixer, whip the egg whites to until foamy.  Add a pinch of salt and 1/8 teaspoon of cream of tartar.  Gradually increase speed to form stiff peaks.

Stir 1/4 of the beaten egg whites into the quinoa mixture to lighten it.  Gently fold in the rest of the egg whites.  Pour the mixture into the prepared mold.  Place in the oven and immediately lower temperature of 375°F.  Bake until puffed and golden, about 30-35 minutes.  Leave in the oven an additional 5 minutes.  Serve immediately.

I missed last month’s ñoquis del 29 post due to technical difficulties.  I was in the middle of trying this recipe for bread and spinach gnocchi for the first time when a friend called after months of phone tag.  Thirty minutes later, we’d finally caught up but I had a too soft mass of spinach flecked dough looking despondent in a mixing bowl.  Having mis-measured, I made some adjustments so that they could be shaped but wasn’t hopeful that they’d stand up to boiling water.

They did and while they weren’t perfect, they weren’t bad – doughy dumplings filled with spinach and cheese that would have been light except for the extra flour I had to throw in for a last minute fix.  If they were this good when they’d gone wrong, I had to make another attempt at getting it right.

Free of distractions, I tried again.  I tore the bread into tiny pieces to form a smoother dough and was careful to remove any excess water from the cooked spinach.  This time they came together without a problem.  The directions were there in black and white, I only needed to pay attention. Gnocchi are supposed to bring you luck at the end of the month but making your own luck still takes a little effort.

Gnocchi di Pane e Spinaci/Bread and Spinach Gnocchi

Adapted from Phaidon’s The Silver Spoon.  I wanted to find a summer gnocchi recipe that was an alternative to roasting potatoes in a heat wave.  Surrounded by Italians bakeries, this was the perfect choice.  Instead of roasting or boiling, I only had to tear the bread and let it soak up the milk.  Though rustic and not as smooth as other doughs, the spinach flavor really came through.

12 ounces day-old Italian bread, cubed or torn into small pieces
Scant 1 cup of milk
1 1/2 pounds of spinach, thoroughly rinsed
1 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 cup Parmesaen cheese, freshly grated plus more for topping
1 egg, lightly beaten
Scant 1 cup all-purpose flour, plus extra for dusting

1/4 cup unsalted butter
1 garlic clove, diced
1 shallot, finely diced

Salt and freshly ground pepper

Place the bread in a large bowl and add the milk.  Set aside until completely absorbed.  In a large skillet, cook the spinach in just the water clinging to the leaves from washing until tender, about five minutes.  Drain and squeeze to remove as much water as possible then chop.  Melt 1 1/2 tablespoons of butter in the skillet over medium heat.  Add the spinach and 1/2 cup of cheese and cook, stirring frequently, about 5 minutes.  Remove from heat and stir into the bread mixture.  Stir in the eggs and then the flour, a 1/4 cup at a time, until a soft dough forms (a small piece should hold its shape).

Dust top lightly with some flour.  Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until very cold, at least one hour.

Divide dough into 6-8 portions.  Form 1 piece of dough into a 1/2-inch-thick rope on a lightly floured surface. Cut rope into 1/2-inch pieces.  Repeat with remaining dough (see note).

Melt 1/4 cup of butter in a heavy skillet over medium-low heat.  Add shallots and sauté until soft and translucent, about 3 minutes.  Add garlic and continue to cook about 2 more minutes.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.  Add the gnocchi and boil until they rise to the surface, 1 to 2 minutes.  Use a slotted spoon to transfer them to the skillet with the shallots and gently mix until evenly coated.  Warm over low heat if needed.  Transfer to serving dish sprinkle with remaining 1/2 cup of cheese, mix gently and serve.

Note: At this point, the uncooked gnocchi can be frozen for later use, first in 1 layer on a baking sheet, then transferred to a sealable bag up to 1 month.  Do not thaw before cooking.  Butter sauce can be halved; make full recipe of gnocchi and freeze half of it.

Makes 6-8 servings.

With so many possibilities, I decided to get specific, choosing a version of Ecuadorian humitas from Maria Baez Kijac’s The South American Table, my new favorite. Lighter than the pork and chicken filled tamales I’d had before, these were made of fresh corn pureed with scallions then blended with egg yolks, milk, cheese, and a little brandy.  The filling is wrapped in corn husks and steamed then topped with ají criollo, a hot pepper sauce.  Most recipes tell you that the water content of North American corn is too high in water and too low in starch.  Kijac solves this problem by adding cornmeal to get the right consistency.

I was tempted to make them with whatever corn I found but waited for fresh, whole corn to reach the markets instead.  Once you scrape the kernels, the cobs can be used to line the bottom of the pot to create a shelf that’s lined with loose corn husks for added flavor (and Swiss Family Robinson efficiency).  I set  the wrapped humitas over the improvised steamer, covered them with the remaining husks, and brought the water to boil.  Of course, I could have used my metal steamer or added a tamalera to my precariously packed shelves.  I didn’t have to use the cobs, and won’t always, but at least this time, I wanted to.

Humitas Ecuatorianas
Adapted from The South American Table from Maria Baez Kijac.  Filling the corn husks can be tricky and the size will vary depending on the size of the husks and your stuffing skills.  I started out messy but got better as I went along.  Click here for Saveur’s guide on handling humitas.  

6 to 8 ears corn (4 cups of kernels)
1/4 cup chopped scallions, white part only
1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
3 large eggs, separated
1/2 cup cornmeal, or more if needed
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon sugar
6 ounces Chihuahua, mozzarella, or Muenster cheese, shredded
1 tablespoon brandy
Kitchen twine, cut into 15-inch lengths
2 cups water
Ají Criollo (see recipe below)

Bring a large part of water to a boil.  Cut through the corncob at the stem end where the kernels start and carefully remove the husks.  Set aside the largest for wrapping and blanch them in boiling water for a couple of minutes to make them more pliable.  Remove from the water and drain on paper towels.  Cut the rest of the husks into strips for tying or to cover the humitas before steaming.

Remove the silk from the corn and rinse.  Cut the kernels from the cobs, adding the milk scraped from the cobs. Reserve the cobs for later use. Place the corn and scallions in food processor or blender and pulse until finely ground. Add the butter, egg yolks, cornmeal, baking powder, salt, sugar, cheese, and brandy.  Pulse until well incorporated and smooth and transfer to a bowl.  The mixture should be thick but not runny. Add more cornmeal, as needed.

In a seperate bowl or using a stand mixer, whip the egg whites to form soft peaks. Carefully fold the whites into the corn mixture.

To assemble the humitas, place two husks on the worktable, slightly overlapped. Place a few spoonfuls of corn batter in the center of the husks. Fold bottom edge over the mixture, fold down the top half, then fold in the sides to form a packet.  Tie with string or corn husk strips.  Repeat with remaining batter.

Place the cobs in the bottom of a large saucepan. Add the water until cobs are almost covered. Cover the cobs with the remaining husks. Place humitas open side up over steamer. Cover with remaining husks. Cover the pot and bring to a boil. Steam until the humitas feel firm to the touch, about 30 minutes for small and 45 minutes for large. Add more boiling water if needed.  Remove from heat and serve with ají criollo.  Leftovers are great for breakfast and can be reheated or pan fried.

Makes 12-16 humitas.

Ají Criollo

4 hot red or green finger peppers, 3 to 4 inches long, seeded and chopped
6 tablespoons water
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup minced scallions
2 tablespoons minced fresh cilantro or parsley leaves

Place peppers, 2 tablespoons of the water, and the salt in a blender and process until smooth.  Transfer to a small bowl and add the scallions, cilantro and remaining water and mix well.

A little neater than the grilled version, I thought it was an interesting alternative for something that can be easily done ahead, freeing up room on the grill.  I also liked that guests can add their own toppings (a little more lime, a little less crema, a lot more chili).

Since I started blogging, I feel like I’ve gotten to know my family and friends in unexpected ways.  For instance, I didn’t know that Raul was the person to go to when you want to talk corn and chiles for an hour, Tio Jorge for pig roasting, Tia Cristina for frijoles, Tia Alicia for everything else.  As much as I love shopping, cooking, eating, and writing food, talking food is pretty great too.

Elote con Crema/Steamed Corn with Crema, Chili, and Cheese
I also tried this recipe with roasted corn.  Though it brought out the corn’s sweetness, I missed the plumpness of steamed corn.  I also realized that I could have added cilantro but then I’ll put cilantro on anything.

3 cups corn kernels, fresh or frozen, defrosted
1 cup Mexican crema or sour cream
1 cup Cotija, Queso Fresco, or Parmesean cheese, crumbled
4 limes, cut in wedges
Salt and pepper
Chili powder

Bring 1/4 cup of water to a simmer over medium heat.  Add corn and cover until just tender and warmed through, 3-5 minutes.  Remove from heat and drain.

Serve in individual bowls.  Sprinkle with lime and season with salt and pepper to taste.  Top with crema, cheese, and chili powder.

Serves 4-6.

Until recently, I rarely fried anything at home.  I hated the smell, the splatter, the guilt.  When I started writing about Latin American food, I knew I couldn’t avoid it much longer and finally bought a deep fryer.  While it produces perfect batches of churros, empanadas and buñuelos, it’s the SUV of fryers requiring such a massive amount of oil that I keep it parked most of the time.  It wasn’t practical for smaller, any-night batches of plantains.  Maduros I can handle.  Overly ripe, they caramelize and brown in a second while using grapeseed oil keeps them light.  My tostones or chatinos, the green plantains fried twice till they’re crispy gold, however, were disasters.  I’d buy bright green plantains but put off making them till they were just about to ripen, somewhere between a maduro and tostone.  Overly cautious when I added the plantain chunks, I’d stand too far back, giving it a nervous last-minute flick, that sent oil everywhere.  Taking too long to cook because I hadn’t let the oil get hot enough, they’d soak up every extra drop.  Finally, I’d put them in a tostonera to smash down but they’d go to the side instead.  They did not look like flowery golden discs, they looked run over.  By the time I got to the second frying, both the tostones and I were exhausted and covered in oil.

That was my story until this Christmas Eve.  Papo, a friend of my Uncle’s had come over to help set everything up for dinner.  A one-man catering company, he’d been working since the day before preparing the pig for the roast, peeling yuca, and chopping plantains.  He’d just started frying the plantains but got called away to the kitchen when the oven wasn’t equipped to handle the massive amounts of rice required for a Cuban family of  fifty.  The resulting domino effect meant that in fifteen minutes we were suddenly two hours behind.  Wanting to help out, my mother, from whom I’d inherited my fear of frying, and I volunteered to take over the tostones.  I’d been pestering Papo with questions all day and was dying to do something.  He took one look at us gingerly mashing the too hot plantains between to worn pieces of aluminum foil and the defeat in his eyes was heart wrending.  He went back to the kitchen and came back with two cans of beans for even mashing.  We went to work, improving a little with each batch.  Making a dozen or so every few months hadn’t helped, but making over 200 in an hour, I learned fast.  With no time for jitters, I got used to the bubbling oil, the draining, and mashing by being careful not skittish.  In the end, the rice cooked, the pig roasted, the plantains fried, and the family ate.  Once the momentary panic was over, it was hard to remember why we’d gotten so worked up in the first place.

Tostones  (or Chatinos)
I think the reason I had so much trouble with them is that I was relying too much on the directions rather than what I had in front of me.  It is easier to wait for a digital timer to tell you it’s 365 degrees than to watch the plantains to make sure they’re cooking as quickly as they should.  Similarly, if they don’t mash evenly, they just need to be fried a couple of more minutes so test one before removing the entire batch from the oil.  If you’re making them in advance, they can be frozen after the initial frying and mashing, then fried the second and final time just before serving.

3 large green plantains
1 cup corn oil
Sea salt

Cut the ends off the plantains and slice down the middle.  Remove the peel and cut into 1″ chunks.  Heat one cup of corn oil in a deep frying pan until hot.  Add plantains in batches and fry until golden all around, about 3-5 minutes.

Test for doneness by using a can or flat bottomed bottle to smash to desired thickness.  The plantain should spread out evenly but hold together from the center.  If so, remove from oil and drain on paper towels of brown paper.*

Refry a second time till evenly crisp.  Drain once again and add sea salt to taste.  Though they’re best eaten immediately, they can be warmed in the oven a few minutes before serving if made in advance.

*At this point, they can also be soaked in warm salted water a few minutes.  This works well for thicker plantains making them more tender.  Drain well before frying the second time.

I really miss apples when they’re gone.  I try to follow the seasons, stay local, only buy what’s available at the farmer’s markets but have to admit that I cheat all the time when it comes to apples.  Not that I have to these days – the markets are bursting with every variety.  My great grandmother, who grew up on a farm in Asturias where they made their own cider, lived to be a very healthy and graceful 103.  It could have been the apples or the Estée Lauder but its definitely worth a try.  Having found a simple recipe for baked apples, I looked for variations with added butter, custard, almonds, or preserves.  They all looked great, and I’ll definitely try them later but it seemed to undermine my initial intention of making a healthy dessert that’s all apple so I stuck to the original idea.  I don’t know if apples are really the secret to eternal youth, but I did feel a bit Evil Queenish when I pulled them out and saw their candied jewel tones.  They were sweet, tender and perfect with yogurt.  Of course, they also go great with ice cream which I’ll try tomorrow, just a little, while I’m still young.

Baked Apples
Adapted from Spain…A Culinary Road Trip by Mario Batali and Gwyneth Paltrow, the original recipe comes from Pilar Sánchez.

6 crisp apples, cored but unpeeled
2 tablespoons sugar
1/2-3/4 cup of apple cider

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.  Place apples in a shallow baking dish.  Add cider and sprinkle with sugar.  Bake until soft, about one hour.

Serve hot, at room temperature or cold.  Can be served with yogurt, ice cream, or sweetened whipped cream and topped with toasted nuts or caramel.

A few weeks ago, I read about Argentina’s ñoquis del 29, the day of the month to prepare and eat gnocchi and wanted to try it.  Unfortunately, I would invariably remember this on the 30th of each month.  I was determined not to forget this time and with all the fall vegetables weighing down the markets, I was looking for something in a pumpkin-squash-sweet potato to start a new monthly tradition.  I found a recipe for sweet potato gnocchi in October’s Gourmet (still can’t believe it’s gone) issue that was exactly what I wanted.  I’d only made gnocchi once before and while they were okay, I had that nagging feeling when you first try a recipe that you just didn’t do it right.  To avoid this, I read the recipe a few times, cross referenced similar ones for tips and techniques, gathered up the few necessary ingredients and got ready to make a mess.

Like most Latin American customs, I came across competing reasons for the practice and a few proverbs.  Rather than list them all, I’ve decided to spread them out of the months of gnocchi making to come.  One of my favorite versions is that the tradition of eating gnocchis on the 29th started because it comes just before pay day each month.  Poorer families that had been stretching their resources till their next pay check could always afford the few ingredients that go into gnocchi.  The tradition of putting a peso or coin under the plate was meant to attract greater prosperity in the coming month which seems especially appropriate these days.

The first good sign was that the gnocchi were simpler than I thought.  I don’t know if it was a better recipe, finally breaking in my little wooden gnocchi rollers, the dollar bill under my plate or expecting the worst, but it was as easy as it was supposed to be.  A reminder to do the work, plan ahead, and hope it gets easier.

Sweet Potato Gnocchi with Fried Sage
Adapted with few changes from Gourmet, October 2009.  I replaced the shaved chestnuts called for in the original recipe with toasted and chopped hazelnuts.  I was careful not to overcook the potatoes and used a food mill instead of a masher.  Click here for the original recipe.
1 1/4 lb russet (baking potatoes)
1 (3/4-lb) sweet potato
1 large egg
1/2 teaspoon grated nutmeg
1/3 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano plus more for serving
1 1/2 to 2 cups all-purpose flour plus more for dusting
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 cup sage leaves (from 1 bunch)
2 tablespoons unsalted butter

Preheat oven to 450°F with rack in middle.  Pierce russet and sweet potatoes in several places with a fork, then bake in a 4-sided sheet pan until just tender, 45 minutes to 1 hour.

Cool potatoes slightly, then peel and force through ricer or food mill into sheet pan, spreading in an even layer. Cool potatoes completely.

Beat together egg, nutmeg, 1 tsp salt, and 1/2 tsp pepper in a small bowl.  On a lightly floured board, gather potatoes into a mound in sheet pan, using a pastry scraper if you have one, and form a well in center.  Pour egg mixture into well, then knead into potatoes. Knead in cheese and 1 1/2 cups of flour, then knead, adding more flour as necessary, until mixture forms a smooth but slightly sticky dough. Dust top lightly with some of flour.

Cut dough into 6 pieces.  Gently roll each piece into a ball and lightly dust with flour.  Repeat with remaining 5 pieces of dough.  Form 1 piece of dough into a 1/2-inch-thick rope on a lightly floured surface. Cut rope into 1/2-inch pieces.

Turn a fork over and hold at a 45-degree angle, with tips of tines touching work surface. Working with 1 at a time, roll gnocchi down fork tines, pressing with your thumb, to make ridges on 1 side. Transfer gnocchi as formed to baking sheets.

Fry sage leaves:
Heat oil in a 12-inch heavy skillet over medium heat until it shimmers. Fry sage leaves in 3 batches, stirring, until they turn just a shade lighter and crisp (they will continue to crisp as they cool), about 30 seconds per batch. Transfer to paper towels to drain. Season lightly with salt.  Add butter to oil in skillet with 1/2 tsp salt and cook until golden-brown, 1 to 2 minutes.  Remove from heat.

Cook gnocchi:
Add half of gnocchi to a pasta pot of well-salted boiling water and stir. Cook until they float to surface, about 3 minutes. Transfer with a slotted spoon to skillet with butter sauce. Cook remaining gnocchi in same manner, transferring to skillet as cooked.  Heat gnocchi in skillet over medium heat, stirring to coat.  Serve sprinkled with fried sage and grated cheese.

Additional notes:
Uncooked gnocchi can be frozen (first in 1 layer on a baking sheet, then transferred to a sealable bag) up to 1 month. Do not thaw before cooking.  Sauce and topping can be halved; make full recipe of gnocchi and freeze half of it.
Serves 6.

I noticed that I’ve been dessert heavy lately when even my WiiFit avatar plumped up a little.  I wanted to make something light to get through a heavy week and found this recipe for quinoa pilaf on Yanuq, my favorite Peruvian food site.  Each time I go to it, I find something familiar and healthy but with a twist that I can’t wait to try.  The pilaf, a mix of vegetables and quinoa boiled in chicken broth, is a combination of the all the foods to have when you need to feel virtuous but satisfied.  The more I look at Peruvian food, the more surprised I am that there’s not a Peruvian restaurant on every corner.  This may not be the case for very long.  In a recent Time.com article, Peru’s Plans for Global (Foodie) Conquest, Lucien Chauvin quotes chef Gastón Acurio:

“We are living the same kind of moment Japan did decades ago, inventing a market where one does not exist,” says Acurio. The world is a different place from the one in which Benihana first branched out of Japan and opened in the U.S. — in New York — in 1964. Tastes have become more global and transportation allows fresh produce to move from a farm in Peru to a restaurant kitchen in Europe or the U.S. in less than 24 hours, making it easy to start — and sustain — a trend.

I hope this is true because I can’t bear to see my avatar so disappointed.

Click here for Spanish and English versions of the recipe.