By The writing conference happened this weekend and I am still vibrating from it. Three days of workshops, panels, readings, and the overwhelming experience of being in a room full of people who also write, who also agonize over sentences, who also sit alone in kitchens and try to turn feeling into language. I was not alone. For three days, I was not alone in the specific way that writers are not alone when they find their people — the aloneness did not disappear, it was shared, and shared aloneness is the closest thing to community I have ever found.
The food writing panel was revelatory. A woman who writes about Vietnamese cooking said, "Food writing is never about food. It is about identity." I wanted to stand up and applaud. I wanted to show her my blog, my two years of posts that are never about food, that are always about identity, about the space between Japanese and American, about the grandmother in Sacramento and the daughter in Portland and the recipes that bridge the gap. I did not stand up. I sat quietly and took notes and felt seen in a way that the blog, for all its readers, has never made me feel, because the blog is a one-way mirror and this conference was a room full of mirrors, all reflecting back.
I made a batch of gyoza on Sunday night, still buzzing from the conference — Fumiko's recipe, sixty of them, the pleating meditative and grounding after three days of intellectual overstimulation. The conference opened doors in my mind that I am still walking through. I want to write a book. The thought is there now, fully formed, not a wish but a plan. A book about Fumiko's kitchen. About the recipes and the woman and the inheritance. Not yet. Not until I am ready. But the wanting has shifted from "someday" to "when," and the shift is everything.
Brian picked me up from the conference on Sunday and asked how it went. I said, "I want to write a book." He said, "About what?" I said, "About Fumiko." He was quiet for a moment and then said, "She would hate that." He was right. She would hate it. She would also be secretly, deeply pleased. Fumiko's emotional range includes both reactions simultaneously. It is a family trait.
I told Brian I want to write a book, and then I came home and made something with my hands — because that is how I process things, always, and because Fumiko’s gyoza were already spoken for in my head, already wound up with the conference and the book idea and the woman on the panel who said food writing is never about food. This pesto gnocchi is what I actually made the second night, Tuesday, when the buzzing had settled into something quieter and I needed a meal that asked almost nothing of me but rewarded the asking. Small pillows of dough, bright green sauce, a dish that is simple enough to be meditative and good enough to feel like a gift to yourself — which, after a weekend like that one, is exactly what was called for.
Pesto Gnocchi
Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 1 lb store-bought potato gnocchi
- 1/2 cup basil pesto (store-bought or homemade)
- 1/2 cup reserved pasta cooking water
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional)
- 1/3 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
- Kosher salt and black pepper, to taste
- Fresh basil leaves, for garnish
Instructions
- Boil the gnocchi. Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a boil. Add the gnocchi and cook according to package directions until they float to the surface, about 2—3 minutes. Before draining, scoop out 1/2 cup of the starchy pasta water and set aside. Drain the gnocchi and set aside.
- Build the sauce. In a large skillet over medium heat, warm the olive oil. Add the minced garlic and red pepper flakes and cook, stirring, for about 1 minute until fragrant but not browned.
- Add pesto and loosen. Reduce heat to medium-low. Add the pesto to the skillet and stir to combine with the garlic oil. Pour in 1/4 cup of the reserved pasta water and stir until the sauce is smooth and loose. Add more pasta water a splash at a time if needed.
- Toss the gnocchi. Add the drained gnocchi to the skillet and toss gently to coat every piece in the pesto sauce. Cook for 1—2 minutes until the gnocchi are heated through and have absorbed some of the sauce.
- Finish and serve. Remove from heat and stir in the grated Parmesan. Taste and adjust salt and pepper. Divide into bowls and top with extra Parmesan and fresh basil leaves. Serve immediately.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 410 | Protein: 12g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 52g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 620mg