NY Women Make it Too Easy: Lemon Pepper Ricotta Gnocchi
When I was 24, I left NYC for San Francisco, in attempt to avoid "becoming a New Yorker". I was afraid of becoming what I saw before me, an older New York woman, shriveled and unhealthy, bright red lips puffing on a menthol, wearing some kind of old fur coat and ratty hand-knit hat, muttering to cats. I'd be fluent in ballet, restaurants and shows, but less agile in rivers, trees and mountains. Worse for the wear, without a doubt.
It took a few years, but pretty soon I couldn't stand the laid-back nature of San Francisco. Why do bars close at 1AM? So that everyone can take their mountain bikes up Mt. Tam at 6AM? All that schlepping; for what? That's what convertibles are for. And the sweatpants; why must these women be wearing sweatpants around the Marina constantly, with their VPL and last night's makeup? Oy! Get me a taxi and get me the hell out of here.
And now, through the eyes of a few non-New York male friends, I'm worried about New York women for a whole new reason. Not because of the crochety 80-year old version I am afraid of becoming, but for the desperate, sad and lonely 20- to 40- something version that are now my cohorts. Here are some examples:
A divorcing friend in his-mid 40s is in from LA and meets friends in the Wall Street area around midnight for a drink. The "owner" of the bar, a tall lass from Ireland comes by, asks if everyone is having fun, and would they like to have more fun. "More is always better than less" says he, not thinking of his alimony-to-be, and she returns with some outstanding bottles of red wine that she shares, exclusively with him. The wine is good and his ego is flying and it's 4AM, just the two of them left in the bar. "I'm sooooooo drunk. Come home with me," she says. He hesitates.
As the story is retold to me, "Allison, the last time a girl said 'I'm soooooo drunk', it was followed by 'please take care of me and make sure I get home okay', not inferring, 'please take advantage of me, I can no longer be held accountable for my bad decisions and a warm body is better than nothing.'" He made his way home, alone.
Another friend, up at JG Melons for a late-night burger at the bar, met an attractive chatty DMWK (divorced mom with kid) in her40s. She lives in Woodmere, but was staying at the NYC Ritz that night while her mom was in the hospital. Cruising the bars for some late night comfort, she comes across my friend, who happens to be a professor. Within 15 minutes of their meeting, she learns what he does.
"Do all your students want to fu** you?" she asks. "I do."
Another woman destined to go home alone.
Or my other pal, doing a little post-serious girlfriend trolling on nerve, is looking to dip a toe back in the dating pool. It's always the same; they meet for a drink or two, and sometime after the first drink, they're touching his legs and climbing onto his lap. This drink provides an excuse to mount a virtual digital stranger.
There are more stories; I'm sure we can all add to the heap. Did I just become the world's biggest prude, or are these self-made, self-assured, aggressive women suddenly playing by a different set of rules?
I'd like to know what's gained from a night spent with a stranger, drunk, and waking up not remembering his name. I'll put it in that almost-full category: Things I'd Rather Not Do Again. For these women, is this a one-time thing or recurring? Does it become more or less comforting? It appears to be the modern equivalent of a caveman clubbing his mate before taking them to the cave; except this time, the women are clubbing themselves.
I hope this isn't part of our post-feminist society. I hope this isn't woman, roaring, and taking the "mans approach" to dating. I like flirting; I like dates. I like leaving something to the imagination. I like letting things happen slowly and getting to know someone instead of pouring liters of wine down my throat to numb my sensibilities.
My male friends tell me that these woman aren't different from the less aggressive women they date. They want partners, families, and babies, and this is how they go about getting them. In the Girls Gone Wild era, these are women, wilding.
I don't get it. I don't think these women are being true to themselves and their needs. I don't think it's good for their self esteem. I don't think it's good for the men. Of course there is the occasional randy chick (Mona from Who's The Boss comes to mind), and that's all well and good, but when did it become an epidemic?
My New York male friends are kind of getting used to this woman-attacking-them-in-a-bar approach; no one is waiting past the first date to go to bed. That makes it difficult for those of us who'd like to be walked home and left at the door, wanting more and looking forward to it.
Is this what we've inherited from Sex in the City? I hope not. My wrinkly NY phobias had me running across the country to avoid my destiny. My new New York fears have me staying right where I am, with the confidence of a 35-year old, realizing that you can stay in New York, and behave like a good old-fashioned woman.
Lemon-Pepper Ricotta Gnocchi with Tomatoes and Basil
Serves 8 to 10 as a starter
The Wooden Spoon was recently hired to provide a cooking class at a bridal shower for some lovely women. We made these gnocchi, and no one in the room could get over how delicious, but just as importantly, how simple they were. Simple makes for good gnocchi; complex makes for a worthwhile woman.
1 16-ounce container ricotta
2 egg yolks
3 tablespoons grated parmesan cheese
Zest of 1 lemon
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper
2/3 cups flour, plus more for rolling
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 1/2 pints grape tomatoes, sliced in half
2/3 cup thinly sliced basil
1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. In a large bowl, combine ricotta, egg yolks, lemon juice, salt and pepper; stir well. Add flour, about 1/2 cup at a time, stirring to just to incorporate. Stop adding flour when mixture becomes a dough, or add more as needed.
2. Lightly flour a surface for rolling. Using floured hands, pinch off about 1/3 cup dough from bowl, and roll to make a “snake” with your hands. Place on surface and continue to roll until dough is 3/4-inch thick. Using a floured bench scraper, cut “snakes” into 3/4-inch pieces.
3. Add gnocchi to boiling water in batches (no more than 30 dumplings at a time). Remove from water after the gnocchi have floated for about 30 seconds. Remove from water with a slotted spoon and drain on a paper towel.
4. Heat a large skillet over medium-high; add 2 tablespoons oil . When warm, add 1 1/2 pints grape tomatoes and gnocchi (only 1/2 recipe) and cook, tossing, until tomatoes are soft and gnocchi are browned, about 4 minutes. Repeat with remaining oil, tomatoes and gnocchi. Remove from heat and toss with basil.
It took a few years, but pretty soon I couldn't stand the laid-back nature of San Francisco. Why do bars close at 1AM? So that everyone can take their mountain bikes up Mt. Tam at 6AM? All that schlepping; for what? That's what convertibles are for. And the sweatpants; why must these women be wearing sweatpants around the Marina constantly, with their VPL and last night's makeup? Oy! Get me a taxi and get me the hell out of here.
And now, through the eyes of a few non-New York male friends, I'm worried about New York women for a whole new reason. Not because of the crochety 80-year old version I am afraid of becoming, but for the desperate, sad and lonely 20- to 40- something version that are now my cohorts. Here are some examples:
A divorcing friend in his-mid 40s is in from LA and meets friends in the Wall Street area around midnight for a drink. The "owner" of the bar, a tall lass from Ireland comes by, asks if everyone is having fun, and would they like to have more fun. "More is always better than less" says he, not thinking of his alimony-to-be, and she returns with some outstanding bottles of red wine that she shares, exclusively with him. The wine is good and his ego is flying and it's 4AM, just the two of them left in the bar. "I'm sooooooo drunk. Come home with me," she says. He hesitates.
As the story is retold to me, "Allison, the last time a girl said 'I'm soooooo drunk', it was followed by 'please take care of me and make sure I get home okay', not inferring, 'please take advantage of me, I can no longer be held accountable for my bad decisions and a warm body is better than nothing.'" He made his way home, alone.
Another friend, up at JG Melons for a late-night burger at the bar, met an attractive chatty DMWK (divorced mom with kid) in her40s. She lives in Woodmere, but was staying at the NYC Ritz that night while her mom was in the hospital. Cruising the bars for some late night comfort, she comes across my friend, who happens to be a professor. Within 15 minutes of their meeting, she learns what he does.
"Do all your students want to fu** you?" she asks. "I do."
Another woman destined to go home alone.
Or my other pal, doing a little post-serious girlfriend trolling on nerve, is looking to dip a toe back in the dating pool. It's always the same; they meet for a drink or two, and sometime after the first drink, they're touching his legs and climbing onto his lap. This drink provides an excuse to mount a virtual digital stranger.
There are more stories; I'm sure we can all add to the heap. Did I just become the world's biggest prude, or are these self-made, self-assured, aggressive women suddenly playing by a different set of rules?
I'd like to know what's gained from a night spent with a stranger, drunk, and waking up not remembering his name. I'll put it in that almost-full category: Things I'd Rather Not Do Again. For these women, is this a one-time thing or recurring? Does it become more or less comforting? It appears to be the modern equivalent of a caveman clubbing his mate before taking them to the cave; except this time, the women are clubbing themselves.
I hope this isn't part of our post-feminist society. I hope this isn't woman, roaring, and taking the "mans approach" to dating. I like flirting; I like dates. I like leaving something to the imagination. I like letting things happen slowly and getting to know someone instead of pouring liters of wine down my throat to numb my sensibilities.
My male friends tell me that these woman aren't different from the less aggressive women they date. They want partners, families, and babies, and this is how they go about getting them. In the Girls Gone Wild era, these are women, wilding.
I don't get it. I don't think these women are being true to themselves and their needs. I don't think it's good for their self esteem. I don't think it's good for the men. Of course there is the occasional randy chick (Mona from Who's The Boss comes to mind), and that's all well and good, but when did it become an epidemic?
My New York male friends are kind of getting used to this woman-attacking-them-in-a-bar approach; no one is waiting past the first date to go to bed. That makes it difficult for those of us who'd like to be walked home and left at the door, wanting more and looking forward to it.
Is this what we've inherited from Sex in the City? I hope not. My wrinkly NY phobias had me running across the country to avoid my destiny. My new New York fears have me staying right where I am, with the confidence of a 35-year old, realizing that you can stay in New York, and behave like a good old-fashioned woman.
Lemon-Pepper Ricotta Gnocchi with Tomatoes and Basil
Serves 8 to 10 as a starter
The Wooden Spoon was recently hired to provide a cooking class at a bridal shower for some lovely women. We made these gnocchi, and no one in the room could get over how delicious, but just as importantly, how simple they were. Simple makes for good gnocchi; complex makes for a worthwhile woman.
1 16-ounce container ricotta
2 egg yolks
3 tablespoons grated parmesan cheese
Zest of 1 lemon
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper
2/3 cups flour, plus more for rolling
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 1/2 pints grape tomatoes, sliced in half
2/3 cup thinly sliced basil
1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. In a large bowl, combine ricotta, egg yolks, lemon juice, salt and pepper; stir well. Add flour, about 1/2 cup at a time, stirring to just to incorporate. Stop adding flour when mixture becomes a dough, or add more as needed.
2. Lightly flour a surface for rolling. Using floured hands, pinch off about 1/3 cup dough from bowl, and roll to make a “snake” with your hands. Place on surface and continue to roll until dough is 3/4-inch thick. Using a floured bench scraper, cut “snakes” into 3/4-inch pieces.
3. Add gnocchi to boiling water in batches (no more than 30 dumplings at a time). Remove from water after the gnocchi have floated for about 30 seconds. Remove from water with a slotted spoon and drain on a paper towel.
4. Heat a large skillet over medium-high; add 2 tablespoons oil . When warm, add 1 1/2 pints grape tomatoes and gnocchi (only 1/2 recipe) and cook, tossing, until tomatoes are soft and gnocchi are browned, about 4 minutes. Repeat with remaining oil, tomatoes and gnocchi. Remove from heat and toss with basil.
posted by Allison Fishman at 12:43 PM
2 Comments:
I was recently introduced to your site by a friend, and I am so intrigued by your thoughts; and even more by your recipes. I love gnocchis and where I live they are not sold in the grocery stores. To obtain these tasteful treasures I drive to Norfolk, Virginia, where I visit my mother-in-law. She and I drive another 20 miles to a little italian grocery store and restaurant called Bella Monte. It's there I "re-stock" my frozen supply by purchasing 6 to 10 bags of either potato or ricotta gnocci and store them in a cooler for the 500 mile drive back home. I am looking forward to trying this recipe and also sharing it with my mother-in-law.
Cities make everyone desperate since everyone has too many choices. Men & women must both express & verify interest quickly. If she or he doesn't sleep with you on the first date, they're just not sufficently interested, and they'll be distracted by another before your second date.
Guys all know about the sweet small town girl who waits several dates : she'll be wowed by another guy before you can even call her again. Women all know about the nice & hot guy who they didn't shag : another girl did first. In both cases, they'll get dumped by the better catch who took them, but your still out in the cold.
It's okay being easy/aggressive. You'll catch plenty of jerks, but you'll leave them easily too. And you'll also catch plenty of nice guys by making the moves yourself. Otoh the nice "hard to get" girl ends up loving some guy who dates three women in parallel, or a needy wife beater.
Big cities just work this way. Hide & seek doesn't work well among millions of people. If you don't like it, date some existing nice guy friend, or just move.
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