When I informed my colleagues that gnocchi would be the dish of the week, one of them, who shall remain nameless, replied, “It’s like poured cement.”
So I took that to mean he — excuse me, the person in question — is not a fan.
I’m not either, although I’ve only had bites of gnocchi here an there and to the best of my recollection have never ordered it. I want to see if, on closer inspection, it tastes better than hydraulic binding.
The most common form of gnocchi (kneeYOkee) is a potato dumpling served with sauce. Here’s a brief, oversimplified history: It dates back to Italy in medieval times, when the dumplings were made of grain. After potatoes arrived in Europe in the 1500s, spuds gradually became the primary base ingredient.
Gnocchi is not a common menu item among the multitudes of local Italian eateries, but we found two nearby: Original Flavor 1889* in downtown St. Pete and La Dolce Vita Trattoria in Clearwater.
ORIGINAL FLAVOR 1889
The restaurant is squeezed with other small storefronts into the 400 block of Central Avenue. I’d heard of OF1899 plenty of times, but never laid eyes on it. When Bonnie and I arrived at 6:30 Tuesday, both wearing cardigans, the small(ish) eatery was already doing a robust business. With its light hues and dashes of neon blue, the dining room evinced a cheerful energy.
We sat at a four-top in the corner, next to the window. I instantly noticed how comfortable the chair was. Our effervescent server, Brittinee, amplified the upbeat vibe. As she hustled between waiting tables and serving folks behind the bar, her smile never flagged. She knew the food, too.
We ordered Gnocchi Partenopei ($21) and the Fresca Salad ($12) to split. Brittany suggested adding a meatball ($4) to the gnocchi, which turned out to be a valuable suggestion.
Appearance
The way I see it, there’s no viable way to pretty-up a pile of potato dumplings, although the red tomato sauce helped. A sprig of basil atop the lone meatball was kind of funny. The colorful salad balanced the scales.
Taste and Texture
The gnocchi had just the right level of firmness, although it had no potato flavor — essentially no flavor at all — which is probably the norm. The sweetish sauce, made from San Marzano tomatoes imported directly from Italy, earned nectar-of-the-gods status. The meatball proved essential in fortifying the forkfuls with an added flavor dimension. My best bites combined a single dumpling, a piece of meatball and a slur of melted cheese.
Big ups to the salad and its fig balsamic glaze, with an extra kudo for the shaved carrots.
LA DOLCE VITA TRATTORIA
We arrived at the Feather Sound restaurant at 6:45 Wednesday under a gorgeous, pink-hued sunset, amid the last gasp of sweater weather. Every window in the large space dangled with strings of white lights, creating an ethereal glow.
We sat at a four-top cloaked in a white tablecloth. Our server, Joanna, didn’t concern herself with establishing rapport, and we didn’t care. She was knowledgeable and efficient. Straight away she brought us bread with a terrific sundried tomato spread.
We ordered Gnocchi La Dolce Vita ($23.90), and Insalata Della Nonna ($10) to split. We doubled up on the meatballs ($4 each).
Appearance
The food was dwarfed by the large round plate, but we could tell there’d be plenty to eat. The salad comprised a heap of iceberg lettuce, some onion slices and a few cherry tomatoes, accompanied by balsamic dressing in small containers.
Taste and Texture
People, I am excited to announce that not all gnocchi is the same! La Dolce Vita’s version is stuffed with asiago cheese. So, yes, it had flavor, albeit subtle. The dumplings were far softer than Original Flavor’s, and didn’t require much chewing.
Like the night before, the go-to bites combined gnocchi, sauce and a piece of meatball.
Although I like my occasional iceberg lettuce, the salad didn’t convey much creativity. It proved a solid starter for a couple of hungry folks.
And the Winner of the No-Joke Gnocchi Nail-Biter Is …
Original Flavor 1889.
Although I appreciated La Dolce Vita’s stuffed gnocchi, I leaned toward the firmer dumplings at OF1889. The San Marzano tomato sauce contributed mightily to the decision. OF1889 easily won the salad contest. And permit me one more shout-out to Brittinee, who proved instrumental in making our visit a lovely experience.
* I wondered about the name, too. Original Flavor 1889 is not exactly the kind of branding you’d expect from a restaurant that bills itself as a “contemporary Neapolitan pizza & wine bar.” By way of explanation I’ll quote the menu: “The mouth-watering flavor of Napoli originates all the way back to 1889 in the fire of the traditional 8,000-pound brick oven.”
OF1899 does indeed bake its pizzas in that same type of oven, sans wood, at a toasty 734 degrees.
A Final Note: My gnocchi this week was not like poured cement.
