There are things I appreciate eating in a restaurant because they will always be better than if I try to do it myself. Fresh pasta is at the top of that list. Sure, it’s doable in one’s own kitchen — just maybe not my kitchen, since I am not blessed with the kind of free time (or patience) that would allow for such a practice.
But dumplings? I’ll make dumplings all day long, particularly the plump, unfilled, doughy variety. These gnocchi-like pillows of joy have a pleasingly short ingredient list: ricotta, flour and eggs, and unlike fresh pasta, require almost zero technical skill, time or special equipment. They are a different beast from fresh fettuccine, but I still think of them as a way to fulfill the desire I have to make pasta without having to, you know, actually make pasta.
There are many good things about these cheesy, salty dumplings, like how the dough comes together in minutes and needs only a spoon to shape, and how I won’t even ask you to drain the ricotta before making them.
But their best trait may be how they are the ideal vehicle for spring produce, words we have waited an eternity to hear.
While the dumplings boil in heavily salted water, use that time to briefly cook any assortment of very green, very springy things in melted butter and olive oil until they turn even greener and almost tender.
I always start with some sort of allium, like leeks, spring onions or scallions, then add a mix of ingredients like asparagus cut into bite-size pieces, shelled fava beans and peas in every form imaginable (snap, sugar, snow, shoots, leaves). Know that regardless of what the recipe says, this is a great opportunity to go all out with those niche, short-seasoned spring items (ramps, green garlic) that pop up and might get you wondering, “What should I do with these?” This. This is what you should do with them.
In spring, peas and asparagus are great for this dish, but feel free to swap in whatever is in season.CreditMichael Graydon & Nikole Herriott for The New York Times. Prop Stylist: Kalen Kaminski.
Once the dumplings have puffed and cooked through (pluck one from the water and cut it in half to test for doneness; it should be light and fluffy rather than dense and doughy, not unlike a good matzo ball), they are added to the skillet and gently tossed to coat in that buttery business so they can mingle with all the vegetables.
From there, transfer the dumplings to a large serving bowl or plate, then absolutely shower them in fresh herbs (parsley and mint are complementary without being overbearing), and sweet, grassy pea tendrils if you can get your hands on them. (They are always worth getting your hands on.)
For those worried that their dumplings may not be perfectly spherical or uniform, take pleasure in knowing that part of their charm lies in their rustic, clunky imperfection. Besides, with all those spring vegetables in the bowl, nobody’s looking at them anyway.
Recipe: Ricotta Dumplings With Buttered Peas and Asparagus
And to Drink …
This intensely seasonal dish is both rich and green with the flavors of peas and asparagus. It puts me in mind of crisp white wines with echoing herbal flavors, like grüner veltliner from Austria, restrained sauvignon blancs from the Loire Valley, Chablis, pinot blanc from Alsace and Soave Classico from Verona in northeastern Italy. You could also approach this dish with richer whites, like the singular white Riojas of López de Heredia, Meursault from Burgundy or well-calibrated chardonnays from California, Oregon and Australia. Fino sherry would be delightful. If you prefer a light, lively red, you could try a trousseau or poulsard from the Jura, an entry-level barbera from the Langhe or a frappato from Sicily. ERIC ASIMOV
