A good day for gnocchi (which I like to pronounce Gah-know-chee, but is technically pronounced NYO-ki)

Today reminds me of Florence, Italy. It's grey and raining and a little bit cold--it makes me think of Saint Maria's church and the train station and pigeons in the piazza that take flight all at once like small angels.

Today reminds me of when we ate lunch at the market--tucked in the corner behind a little round table next to a pop machine. It was late fall and, by that point, we had been cold and damp for days. I ordered gnocchi to warm me up. It steamed in it's paper bowl and led to a long lunch hour of watching locals and tourists drift by with bags draping from hands and lengths of bread or bologna tucked in the crooks of arms.

Afterwards, we made our way slowly past techni-colored displays of fresh tomatoes and eggplants, herbs, cheeses, fish and wine. I blissfully browsed through the market in a gnocchi stupor. And with eyes and bellies full we continued down cobbled side streets, winding, winding our way through an ancient city...and ever since, gnocchi has become my ultimate comfort food. Today the rain drizzle-falls in the exact same way it did that day in Florence. And for lunch, I think I know what I'll have:

(Later: And look...Vinny wrote about it too.)