serves
6
prep
30 minutes
cook
1 hour
difficulty
Mid
serves
6
people
preparation
30
minutes
cooking
1
hour
difficulty
Mid
level
Luisa is a shy dairy farmer with five cows that she houses in an antique wooden barn through which chickens skitter, with cats patrolling the edges for mice. In spring, she moves them to Alpine meadows where the diet of flowers and herbs can be tasted clearly in the milk. From this, she makes 2 kilos (4 lb 8 oz) of raw butter a week, which she sells to Berta, the owner of nearby Hotel Saalerwirt, who is passionate about showcasing local produce to her guests. "I like how you can taste the seasons in Luisa’s butter," she says.
The best way to appreciate butter like this is to spread it thickly on bread with nothing else, but dousing it, melted, over the local gnocchi called schupfnudeln makes them very special. If that sounds German to you, you are right; the women live just outside Brunek (or Brunico), close to the border with Austria. In this part of Italy, they speak a German dialect, alongside Italian, and this is reflected in the cooking.
Sweet and savoury schupfnudeln both need lashings of melted butter; try to source a cultured butter with plenty of flavour. And you can fry them too, so a nice brown crust forms, which is delicious. Incidentally, the Italian name for these gnocchi is stringoli, but neither Luisa or Berta called them that.
Ingredients
For the gnocchi
- 500 g floury potatoes
- 2 eggs
- 2 g (½ tsp) salt grated nutmeg, to taste
- 200 g (1⅔ cups) plain (all-purpose) flour, plus extra for dusting
To serve
- 100 g unsalted butter
- 100 g poppy seeds and 50 g (¼ cup) caster (superfine) sugar, blitzed together or 2½ tbsp grated Parmigiano Reggiano (parmesan)
Instructions
- Preheat the oven to 180°C.
- Jab the potatoes a couple of times with a fork so they don’t explode, then bake them in the oven until completely soft; this will take about 45 minutes to an hour depending on the size of your potatoes. Remove from the oven and, once cool enough to handle, cut them open and scoop out the fluffy potato: you’ll end up with about 450 g.
- Pass the scooped-out potato through a ricer over a large bowl; this ricing gives the potato a lighter texture. If you don’t have a ricer, you’ll need to give them a quick mash, but don’t go overboard; you don’t want a smooth puree. Crack in the eggs and scramble them a bit, then add the salt and nutmeg, and mix them briefly into the mash. Taste for seasoning and don’t be shy with it.
- Add the flour to the mix and combine well, remembering you are not making pasta. Try to be light-fingered and speedy; if you overwork the dough, the gnocchi will be heavy. Stop as soon as you cannot see the flour anymore.
- When the dough has formed a cohesive non-sticky ball, sprinkle it with a little extra flour and set it to one side while you scrape the board clean of any doughy bits – you won’t want them in the schupfnudeln.
- Cut the dough into 3 manageable chunks and roll each, one at a time, into a thick rope 2–3 cm in diameter. Cut each rope into 2 cm (¾ in) lengths. Keeping everything well-floured, roll each piece between the palms of your hands, which should be perpendicular to each other, not in a ‘praying’ position. You are aiming for gnocchi with tapered ends so that they look like a torpedo. It will take a bit of practice but by the tenth one you should have the hang of it. (You can see the Pasta Grannies video ).
- Bring a saucepan of salted water to the boil.
- To prepare the finished dish, melt the butter in a small saucepan over a medium heat until lightly golden, but don’t let it burn.
- Add the gnocchi to the boiling water all at once, then immediately stir them gently so that they don’t sink to the bottom of the pan and stay separate. After 2 minutes, remove one with a slotted spoon, let it cool a little then taste to see if it’s fully cooked – it should not taste like raw flour.
- Scoop the gnocchi out of the water and place them on a warmed platter. Pour over the melted butter and follow either with sugar and poppy seeds or the grated cheese. I have suggested Parmigiano, which isn’t at all typical of South Tyrol. The cheese typical of Luisa and Berta’s valley is Pustertaler, while the closest grana cheese is Grana Trentino; but unless you live in the area, you won’t find them.
Note
• Schupfnudeln can be served on their own, and the savoury version as a side dish to game or vegetable stews.
Recipe and image from (Hardie Grant Books, RRP $45 AUD, available in-stores nationally). Photography: Lizzie Mayson.
Cook's Notes
Oven temperatures are for conventional; if using fan-forced (convection), reduce the temperature by 20˚C. | We use Australian tablespoons and cups: 1 teaspoon equals 5 ml; 1 tablespoon equals 20 ml; 1 cup equals 250 ml. | All herbs are fresh (unless specified) and cups are lightly packed. | All vegetables are medium size and peeled, unless specified. | All eggs are 55-60 g, unless specified.
Luisa is a shy dairy farmer with five cows that she houses in an antique wooden barn through which chickens skitter, with cats patrolling the edges for mice. In spring, she moves them to Alpine meadows where the diet of flowers and herbs can be tasted clearly in the milk. From this, she makes 2 kilos (4 lb 8 oz) of raw butter a week, which she sells to Berta, the owner of nearby Hotel Saalerwirt, who is passionate about showcasing local produce to her guests. "I like how you can taste the seasons in Luisa’s butter," she says.
The best way to appreciate butter like this is to spread it thickly on bread with nothing else, but dousing it, melted, over the local gnocchi called schupfnudeln makes them very special. If that sounds German to you, you are right; the women live just outside Brunek (or Brunico), close to the border with Austria. In this part of Italy, they speak a German dialect, alongside Italian, and this is reflected in the cooking.
Sweet and savoury schupfnudeln both need lashings of melted butter; try to source a cultured butter with plenty of flavour. And you can fry them too, so a nice brown crust forms, which is delicious. Incidentally, the Italian name for these gnocchi is stringoli, but neither Luisa or Berta called them that.
