Before we begin: I didn't mean for this to become a semi-regular email just about green beans. And yet here we are. This is a dinner I made last week that made me happy.
I am genuinely bad at finding names for dishes. I've been cooking a bit with marrows from people's gardens and I've learnt that the only rule of cooking a marrow is that you can't call it a marrow. So it's all summer squash! Elephant courgette! MaxiGourd!
Had I the confidence, I'd call this recipe something like Baked Potato Gnocchi and Green Bean Ragù with Potato-Peel Parmesan. But all it really is is a dinner of gnocchi and some diced green beans that you cook gently in wine and water with delicious aromatics until they make a perfect and genuinely surprisingly rich sauce. And because the gnocchi start with baked rather than boiled potatoes, you can season and crisp up the potato skins in the oven while you finish everything else and then crumble them over the top. If you're a skilful enough gnocchi maker to make a batch without an egg to bind (which I am not), this could even be vegan.
This is to serve two. Bake four or five good-sized baking potatoes. You might have your favourite method: I do what Felicity Cloake tells me and prick them with a fork, then bake them at 220°C for an hour or so. When they're done, halve them and scoop out the insides into a bowl. Go at them with a potato masher. Leave to cool.
While you wait, make the potato skins. Tear each one so they lie flat on a baking sheet. Drizzle them with olive oil and hit them with plenty of salt and pepper. Smoosh the whole lot up until they're seasoned and oiled all over. Drop the oven temperature to about 200°C and bake these until they're crispy and crumble-able. You know they're ready when it's hard not to just crunch them straight off the tray (you could also do this).
Once your mash is cool enough to handle (if you like, spread it out on a baking tray to cool and steam dry a little faster), crack an egg and mix it into the mash. Now transfer that to a clean counter and start making your gnocchi dough. You want to knead it with flour – I used Italian 00 flour this time, but I've made gnocchi with plain flour before and it's been fine – until it's smooth and no longer sticky. In my experience, this always takes more flour than I think it's going to. When your dough feels right, roll it out into a block, wrap it in clingfilm, and pop it in the fridge while you start the sauce.
(If, at this point, you're thinking that this is a bit much, then know that you could just use some readymade gnocchi and that that would be fine! You won't get the crunchy potato topping, but you could make a super-simple pangrattato with some stale bread, or just top with grated parmesan.)
In a wide pan over a medium-low heat, add enough olive oil to cover the base. Dice an onion and a rib or two of celery and sweat them in the oil with salt, pepper, and a fat pinch of chilli flakes. Slice a few cloves of garlic and add them to the mix. Now take your green beans and slice them into small chunks, about the length of your little fingernail. Add them to the pan and let them cook for a minute or two with the other vegetables.
Now it’s time to braise. Add a glass of white wine and let it cook away. From now on, your job is to add a splash of water every time the last bit of liquid is about to finish cooking off. You don’t want the vegetables to brown. At the end, you might like to throw in some mint leaves – or some sliced parsley stalks – for a touch of herbal delight.
With half an eye still on that pan, it’s time to make your gnocchi. Take your gnocchi dough from the fridge, lay it on a lightly floured board. Slice off a piece, roll it out into a fat sausage, and deftly slice it into gnocchi-sized lumps. If we’re sticking with measurements you can do using only your hand, they should be from about the tip of your thumb to the first knuckle. As you make them, lay your gnocchi on a generously floured tray.
Get a large pasta pan on a fast boil. Salt your water generously. Throw in your gnocchi – they’re ready when they float to the surface. Using a slotted spoon if you have one, start heaving them gently into the pan with your sauce. It’s ideal if there’s still some water clinging to them – this will help the sauce come together. Stir your gnocchi and your sauce – if it’s looking a little dry, add some more pasta water. A splash of oil and a squeeze of lemon and stir again. Taste.
You’re there! Pile your gnocchi into two bowls and top them with the crushed potato skins for a kind of trattoria meets TGI Fridays kind of vibe.
This isn’t a recipe with any claim to authenticity. I like it because it’s surprising and delightful and a bit kitsch. It’s my little tribute to the writing of Rachel Roddy, who taught me how to make gnocchi and how delicious a simple dish of braised vegetables can be. I hope you like it.
While you’re here. Last week I inhaled Olivia Potts’s A Half-Baked Idea. It’s a beautiful memoir that tells a story of grief, love, and patisserie with the wit and emotional punch of an English Nora Ephron. I loved it.
And lastly. I didn’t honestly think that anyone would make these recipes. Thanks so much to everyone who’s sent me pictures of your burnt beans or your peach salsa!