Though I’m certainly happy to take advantage of his product, I have to admit: I could care less what Mark Zuckerberg takes on as his annual self-improvement project. One year, he wore a tie every day. Last year, he learned Mandarin. This year, he’s killing to eat.

Over at BlogHer, I’ve shared my thoughts on the issue. I encourage you to head over there and join the conversation, because while I may not care about Mark Zuckerberg’s latest dealio, I do care deeply about what it could mean for eating well in America.

• To market, two markets
• Finally, the non-mosquito bugs come out to play
• Introducing The Unicorn
• Hungry for a Cause: Hunger Challengers Underway for Third Year
• Plant-sitting duty

Yeah, I’m pretty much going to count 75 percent of my friends in the Bay Area in that number, just by the way.

Let’s just take a look at The Tennessee Locavore, for example. Though we both attended BlogHer Food last year, I managed to miss her entirely during the operation, and instead we have been forced—FORCED, I SAY—to become friends via Twitter and Facebook instead.

What does this mean, you ask? This means that, on a day that was, for the most part, good, but due to a Very Strange and Disturbing Incident on the way home from San Francisco, I arrived home to a care package of local food goodness (Snickerdoodles, people, Snickerdoodles.) either baked in Kristina’s kitchen or procured in her locavore zone. Also, there was a sparkly and blinky ring, which, as a devotee of Burning Man, I promptly announced would make the 2010 trip with me to Black Rock City.

I have been working through the contents of this care package, and this week, made it to the Benton’s prosciutto, which I knew I wanted to save for something special. I cooked it up to add to a dinner of locally-made gnocchi, which seemed only appropriate considering the value Kristina puts on eating in one’s own foodshed. And it was, I must say, delicious. Even if you don’t have Benton’s prosciutto at hand, and even if you aren’t lucky enough to have a care package arrive that contains pork products, this recipe is simple and delicious, and you should make it.

And, Kristina? Though I have adored getting to know you through your words, enough already. We owe each other some in-person cocktails, and some hugs. And I promise the thank you note that I more than owe you is coming shortly.

Gnocchi with Sage and Prosciutto
(Serves 2-3, depending on how hungry you are)

2 Tbsp. butter
½ Tbsp. olive oil
8 oz. prosciutto, chopped
8 oz. sage, leaves stripped and chopped
12 oz. gnocchi

1. Bring a saucepan of water to a boil and salt it.
2. Melt the butter in a sauté pan, and add the olive oil. Warm over medium-high heat.
3. Add the prosciutto and cook it until it’s crispy.
4. Add the gnocchi to the water and cook until it just starts to float at the top of the boiling water.
5. While the gnocchi is cooking, add the sage to the prosciutto and sauté until the gnocchi is ready.
6. Drain the gnocchi and toss it with the butter-sage-prosciutto mixture. Serve immediately, sprinkled, if you would like, with some grated Parmiggiano Reggiano.

• Rustic sweet potato gnocchi
• Phyllo-wrapped asparagus and prosciutto
• Tuscan craving
• First harvest
• Shortbread times four

Oh my friends, how they know me. Amy was, of course, totally right, and that is how we ended up at Harvest, a small, warm space on the square that features the state capitol, for a Sunday night dinner last weekend. This farm-to-table restaurant features seasonal, regional cuisine, and apparently the Executive Chef, Derek Rowe, is all about the challenge of keeping that rolling even through the harsh Wisconsin winters. I tip my hat—that’s more of a challenge than I was willing to manage for more than three of those Midwestern winters in a row.

It turned out we’d stumbled in on a night when the restaurant was hosting a fundraising dinner—they’ve been invited to host a dinner at the James Beard Foundation on April 6 in New York City, and proceeds from last Sunday night’s feast were slated to help get the staff to the East Coast for that event.

The $25 prix fixe menu featured a salad of field greens, radish, and sunchokes with a sherry-walnut vinaigrette or a curried parsnip soup with parsnip chips; a mushroom ragu with creamy polenta and spicy spinach, a pot roast of Wisconsin grass-fed beef brisket, or an incredibly light fish and chips served with a crisp winter coleslaw of cabbage rutabaga and turnip. Dessert options included a vanilla bean panna cotta with grapefruit supremes, a date walnut cake with mascarpone ice cream, or a house-made licorice gelato with an almond biscotti.

The locavore attitude extended even to the cocktail menu, which included my choice: The Door County Cherry Drop, made from Death’s Door Vodka (made with wheat from Washington Island, Wis.), Door County Montmorency Cherry Juice and fresh lemon juice.

Harvest will host two more James Beard Foundation fundraiser dinners: one tonight from 5 p.m. until closing, and another on March 21, also from 5 p.m. until closing. If you’re in Madison or passing through, I encourage you to check it this warm, welcoming space that supports local and regional farms and producers.

• A visit to The French Laundry
• Thyme on my hands
• Tomato porn worth peeking at
• Locavorism in Staunton, Part II
• The juice that cures the cough

At the end of the weekend, on my way home from the airport, I stopped at my local Whole Foods, a behemoth of a store in itself, and certainly a bastion of its own panoply of processed foods. Let’s not kid ourselves, right?

But I was psyched to find, there in the produce section, sandwiched (oddly) between two different kinds of radishes, a pile of bunches of beautiful baby golden beets from Happy Boy Farms, a local producer that I buy from at the farmers’ market almost every week.

Sure, it was Whole Foods. And sure, it’s California. But the fact remains that, in this country, the food producers getting the tax breaks, the government support and attention, and the most shelf space in most American grocery stores are the industrial producers, not the smaller, local guys like Happy Boy.

This week, though, you have an opportunity to help change that balance. This week, Change.org is hosting a crowd-sourcing competition called 10 Ideas for Change in America, and the top 10 ideas will be presented to relevant members of the Obama administration. Even better, Change.org will mobilize its grassroots network to support those 10 ideas.

Among those ideas? Slow Money, a radical idea to fund real, healthy food by investing in small producers and local farmers. The return on that investment—for our environment, for our health, for our food security—is certainly more than any results I’ve seen in my 401(k) lately…

The voting on the top 10 ideas runs through Friday, and I encourage you to go over and check out the options. I’d love to see Slow Money make it into the top 10, but there are other great ideas that will improve food systems, including the American Farmland Trust’s effort to save ranch and farmland across this country, and an effort to put a garden at every school.

Don’t delay. It’ll take about five minutes of your time to promote 10 ideas you think can change the world, and maybe change what’s on the shelves at your local grocery store.

• How you can help Midwestern farmers
• How to save community food programs in two easy faxes
• Menu for Hope underway today
• Act now, and pledge to end hunger
• Tomorrow, declare your Food Independence

But tonight, I got to attend a preview of the new documentary, Food, Inc., and I watched much of it with my mouth open and my mind blown.

The movie’s prime players are the ones most folks active in food access/politics and the locavore world know: Joel Salatin of Polyface Farm, Michael Pollan, Eric Schlosser. But I cried along with a mother who lost her two-and-a-half-year-old to E. Coli, and winced at the sight of industrial chicken farms and factories, and recommitted to only buying meat that’s grassfed and sourced locally.

Like An Inconvenient Truth, the movie is disturbing and absolutely clear in how it presents its opinion. But also like An Inconvenient Truth, the documentary tells its story in an engaging, gripping manner.

Due to a lateish lunch, I hadn’t grabbed dinner beforehand, and by the time the movie was over, it was pushing 10 p.m. and I needed to find something to eat near my hotel that wouldn’t offend my post-movie sensibilities. I ended up across the street at Ciudad, which serves local, organic and sustainable food wherever they can on their menu. I’m glad they came through for me, because after viewing Food, Inc., I don’t feel like I’m doing nearly enough. I can make better choices, and thanks to this movie, I am even more committed to do so when and where I can.

If you eat food, go see this movie. As a matter of fact, it’s probably more accurate to say if you think you’re eating food, go see this movie. It may be one of the most important films you’ll ever see. The movie opens in San Francisco, Los Angeles and New York tomorrow, with wider release scheduled shortly thereafter.

• The Edible Movie: Toast
• The Edible Movie: Best Picture Dinners
• Bringing deprivation into stark relief
• Finding food in farm country
• Free lettuce seeds from Earthbound Farm

I will return to a few things I missed over the course of the month. Parmaggiano Reggiano cheese, for one thing. Wine from other regions of the world. The myriad Asian food products in the markets that dot my neighborhood.

But as I told a friend last night, I’ll probably continue eating as I have in the past two weeks, which is when I let the challenge slip a little and started (not at home, but out on the town) giving in to cravings and urges and more invitations from friends. I’ll probably spend less time mapping California locations on my iPhone at the farmer’s market, which will mean faster shopping trips but, probably, a few more food-miles on my plate.

Next year, I hope to hold myself to a bit of a higher standard – maybe last three weeks of on-target behavior rather than two. But I’ve reaped so much from this challenge, not the least of which is a list of all the things (Boccalone’s pork ragu, Cowgirl Creamery crème fraiche, Rancho Gordo beans) I’ve yet to try but can’t wait to acquire and eat.

As a result of this challenge, I’ve made grits from scratch (no more instant envelopes for me…), chatted with a coffee roaster about the difference between his blends, baked delicious bread, made crepes for the first time, whipped up some gnocchi, and mixed my cocktails with local liquor. I discovered a butcher, a natural foods grocery and a primo wine and cheese shop in Alameda (and now that I’m no longer on the challenge, I will be able to plum the depths of that cheese stock…). I’ve learned a lot about the close-in geography of my new home.

I’m so glad I took part, even if I didn’t hit the Eat Local perfection mark. I’m excited to expand the list of discoveries I started in October – this is, without question, the best food environment I’ve ever, ever lived in.

• New month, new challenge
• When being a California foodie is so very, very right
• Bringing deprivation into stark relief
• Planning…and worrying a little…
• End to the month…not the thinking

One of her donor gifts was a pound of her home-milled whole wheat flour, made from Eatwell Farm wheatberries. I’d been reading about this flour on her blog and on Twitter, and was fascinated. Honestly? It had no more occurred to me that anyone I knew could actually make flour! from scratch! than that they might sprout gills and go spend an hour underwater in San Francisco Bay.

I ponied up a donation and, at the beginning of October, received a package at work. “What is it?” asked my co-worker Julie.

“It’s flour!” I shrieked, sort of akin to a teenager at a high school football game. “It’s flour from Sam!”

Julie backed carefully and slowly out of my office.

I had a plan to use the flour for bread, since one of the things I had planned to do during the Eat Local Challenge month was to teach myself how to bake bread that was actually edible. But here’s the thing…I practiced so much with the flour I already had on hand (that was not from Sam, and very not local), that I now have more bread in my freezer than I’m going to be able to finish before Thanksgiving. I realize I’m totally hyper-compulsive, but if I was going to make something inedible, I wanted it to be with the lesser flour, not the good stuff.

An inspiration
There’s another thread of this story, and it also has to do with Sam. She’s also participating in the challenge, and I’ve been avidly reading her daily accounting of what she’s been eating. I was kind of doing such an accounting myself, but that accounting fell by the wayside, and, well, that was the end of that. But Sam has been faithfully updating her blog each day, and, in the process, tipping me off to new sources of local deliciousness.

Earlier in the month, Sam made a batch of crepes with her flour. The post hit me like a revelation. Crepes? Of course! I have never tried to make them, mostly because my Mom was the crepemaker of the house when I was growing up, and it always seemed complicated, all that swirling of the pan and the thinning of the batter and the exactitude of the flipping. So, as much as I love a good crepe, I’d relegated them to the list of things to order out rather than to do at home.

Thanks to Sam’s inspiration, I dug out my copy of Mark Bittman’s How To Cook Everything, and, after leaving the Crepes recipe (p. 750) open on the counter for about a week, got up the nerve to fix a batch of crepes. They were amazing, and I stuffed them with locally smoked wild salmon and locally-grown cremini mushrooms and baked them with a cream sauce made from Straus Family Creamery whipping cream and Straus Family Creamery European-style butter and my mouth could not have been happier.

But again, I used the in-house flour, because I was scared to ruin Sam’s lovely product.

And so, that’s how it came to be two days from the end of the Eat Local Challenge month, and I still hadn’t dipped into the flour.

Finally, the flour, put to excellent use
Thusly and therefore, I came home last night, and made a batch of crepes using Sam’s batch of flour. I managed to tear the first two in the flipping (And, indeed, the words, “F(&% you, crepe,” may have exited my mouth, but if you cuss at your crepe and no one is around to hear it, did it really happen?), but I took the delicious wreckage of those two and rolled them, awkwardly, around a dollop of Blue Chair Fruit aprium jam for an amazing treat.

Then I filled the rest of the batch with sliced Aidell’s Chicken and Apple Sausage, tucked some Springhill Farms organic Dry Jack cheese, and baked them up. From the eggs and milk and butter and flour that went into the crepes to the filling ingredients, these were all local, all delicious, and completely inspired by Sam. And I have to say, the crepes themselves were so much lighter and more delicious than the first batch I made, so I credit the flour with that. It provides that little extra bit of locally-sourced magic.

Basic crepes
(From Mark Bittman’s How To Cook Everything)
(Makes 10-12 crepes, depending on the size of your pan)

1 c. flour (all-purpose or whole wheat)
Pinch of salt
1 1/4 c. milk (I used nonfat)
2 eggs
2 Tbsp. butter, melted and cooled

1. Whisk the flour, salt and milk together until the mixture is bubbly. Whisk in the eggs, and then the cooled butter. At this point, Mark and many of the crepeologists in the world would say to refrigerate the batter. I never plan ahead, and my crepes turned out just fine. No refrigeration needed.
2. To be fair, I should also admit that I barely even cooled the butter.
3. Heat a nonstick skillet (I used an 8-inch skillet) until drops of water tossed in the pan skitter across the surface. You’ll probably want to adjust the heat as you go, because you want to keep the pan very hot, but not so hot as to burn the crepes.
4. Using a small ladle, add somewhere between 1/8 and 1/4 of a cup of batter to the pan. Swirl it so it covers the bottom. You’ll need to work quickly, because the batter should start to cook immediately, and if you don’t swirl fast, you won’t get it to cover the whole bottom of the pan. Let it cook about a minute, until the top of the crepe is starting to dry but hasn’t yet bubbled, then flip the crepe over.
5. Cook the second side for about 20 to 30 seconds, then remove the finished crepe to a plate. You don’t want them to be as brown as pancakes would be – just slightly golden.
6. Fill with whatever you would like: Something sweet, something savory, etc. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F, and bake the filled crepes (topped with sauce, if you are so inclined), for about 10 minutes, until the filling is warmed. Serve immediately. (Note: If you’re making crepes for a party, you can do them ahead, then fill them and heat them when you’re ready to serve them.)
7. And through it all, keep your cool. I remember my Mom telling me that it takes the first crepe or two to get the pan to the right temperature. Have patience, drop a few cuss words along the way if you are so inclined, and stay relaxed. As Sam said the other night, “They’re so EASY!” Indeed.

• Eating locally in November and beyond
• Just-about-spoonbread quick corn muffins
• New month, new challenge
• Mac and cheese like you never tasted before
• Fried green tomatoes with polenta crust

While I was in Iowa, the opening segment of the show used to torture me. It’s The Market Report with Laura Avery, who meanders about the Wednesday Santa Monica Farmer’s Market, talking to farmers about what’s in season and interviewing chefs about what they’re buying and cooking in their LA-area kitchens. In February in Iowa, listening to chefs bubble poetically about some of the early spring greens they’re seeing at market is akin to watching Terms of Endearment while suffering from PMS: You know it’s going to make you bawl, but you can’t help yourself.

But now that I’ve moved to the land of year-round farmer’s markets, The Market Report is just a sign of what’s coming soon to a market near me. Southern California is going to be seasonally ahead of Northern California at all times, since it’s warmer down there, but enough of that produce comes my way that the segment will no longer be torturous.

Recently, Laura interviewed Jay Porter, the owner of The Linkery in San Diego. He was talking about a dish he was serving at the restaurant: Simple grilled fish and okra, served on a bed of Anson Mills grits and topped with sliced peaches from John Tennerelli’s farm in Little Rock, CA. Just sliced peaches. The stone fruit, Porter said, was so good they needed absolutely no chef-ical intervention.

I had a business trip to San Diego over this past weekend, so I corralled a couple of co-workers to check out The Linkery with me. I scoped the website before hopping my southbound plane, and spotted this philosophic statement:

Our job is to find folks who employ the most wholesome possible means to grow and make the finest stuff in the world, and share it with our community. We aim to bring people closer to the production of their food and drink, both by incorporating local, regional and sustainably-grown ingredients, and by introducing folks to the people who make their meal, all while serving the most delicious stuff we can imagine.

Um, perfect restaurant for this California Foodie? Yes’m. And a perfect option for the Eat Local Challenge (The On-The-Road Version).

The restaurant itself sits on a corner in San Diego’s North Park neighborhood, and the space has roll-up garage-style doors that were open to the night air when we sat down to eat. When we had questions about the wine list, the waiter sent over the bartender to talk us through our choices. We settled on a spicy syrah from the Sierra Foothills after he briefed us on the up-and-comingness of that California wine region.

The waiter talked my co-worker Manel into the Sausage Tacos platter over the meatloaf that appeared on their Market Selections list of specials. “If you’re hungry, it’s more filling and substantial,” he said.

My co-worker Christine settled on the hand cut tagliatelle, with heirloom tomatoes, Grana Padano cheese and house-cured Hampshire pork belly, which was offered without the pork belly as a vegetarian option. We decided the non-pork belly option (sorry, vegetarians…) was really no option at all.

I settled on a pulled lamb barbeque sandwich with a zesty cucumber-and-red-onion salad on the side, and we split the artisan cheese platter (featuring selections from Australia, Holland and Rinconada, California) as a starter.

I only snagged a bite of dessert from Christine and Manel, who both went hard in a chocolate direction, but both bites were amazing. And while we ate, we could look up at pictures projected high on the wall of the farms where our food originated and the sustainably-raised animals that served as the sources of our meals.

If you’re in San Diego, check it out. The Linkery is on the corner of 30th Street and North Park Way in San Diego. Beer and wine only, but such an amazing selection of both that you won’t miss cocktails for a second.

• Farm-fresh North Carolina goodness, year-round
• A sunny African dinner option in the East Bay
• To market, two markets
• Garden, then save the planet
• Eat at Bill’s? Not any longer

“You’re right,” I said. “I guess most of us do just eat at our desk.”

I rarely have time for a leisurely lunch out of the office. I often bring something tasty from home anyway, and, at least in my case, I’m still operating under the habits of my last job, which never provided much time or opportunity for lunch unless there was some sort of officewide celebration happening. And even then, well, let’s just say that I spent most of one of my own clients’ go-live parties working at my desk while shoving celebratory food in my mouth. Good times.

But what I do tend to take, out of the office, is an afternoon coffee break. My coworker Kim and I sneak down to the Starbucks on W. Grand Avenue in Oakland between Broadway and Telegraph, and spend 15 or 20 minutes chatting in the sun at one of the sidewalk tables.

But with the onset of the Eat Local Challenge, that built-in break, which I quite enjoy, has fallen by the wayside. Although I did make an exception for locally-roasted coffee, Starbucks, um, does not provide that as an option. There is a deli not far away that serves Tully’s coffee, but I’m pretty sure that’s roasted in Seattle.

A few days into October, Kim stopped by my office to see if I wanted to take our regular break.

“I can go with you, but I can’t drink the stuff at Starbucks this month,” I said.

“I know,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye. “But I have three ideas.”

We dashed out of the office, in search of locally-roasted brews. Stop one was the one I thought most promising: Mama Buzz Café, a local joint that serves up a heaping side of cool art alongside its coffee, soups and other delicious treats. I’ve been wanting to get to Mama Buzz since I moved to Oakland, but somehow it hadn’t made my regular rotation.

At the counter, Kim asked the question after she noticed me behaving like a wallflower. “Where is your coffee roasted?”

The barista rattled off an impressive fair trade and organic pedigree, but an international roasting origin. No dice for me.

“You can get something,” I said to Kim. “Really, it’s fine.”

“No,” Kim said. “I have two more ideas.”

Off we went, a few blocks away, to a little café that, as it turned out, was not yet in business. The door was open, but inside, workmen were still hammering up fixtures and installing signage. They blinked at us, and we turned around and kept going.

Our last stop was a coffee shop that had opened, but was still so new they did not even have tables yet. A harried guy behind the counter was so flustered by our questions about the coffee’s origin that he finally shoved a cup of coffee into Kim’s hand and told her she didn’t have to pay for it. I declined anything based on the vagueness of the response.

Despite the disheveledness of the operation, Kim and I put it on our possible list for future visits. After all, our constant choice of Starbucks has usually more to do with its immediate proximity to our office than its array of beverage options.

We returned to the office, where, Kim discovered, the free coffee was so bad it was undrinkable. An opening-jitters anomaly? We’re hoping so. Regardless of their coffee origins, I’m all for supporting a new local business in downtown Oakland, so once the Eat Local Challenge is over, we’re going to give it another try.

None Found

Rarely, my friends. The answer is, rarely.

But in all my life, I can only remember a few times when I have had truly homemade gnocchi. I’ve had it a time or two at Gina’s Place, a fabulous Italian restaurant in Bonneauville, PA, run by a Sicilian woman who, along with her family, turn out some seriously amazing food.

The night after I signed my lease in Oakland, I went back to the Mission, where I was staying with a friend, and since she had a work function that night, took myself out to a little Italian restaurant that served me some of the best housemade gnocchi I’ve ever had. (And the waiter? Not so bad himself…both because he was a hottie AND because he could barely speak anything that wasn’t Italian.)

And once, at a memorable evening at Maggie and Heal’s house, we showed up and found that Maggie had made dozens and dozens of perfectly shaped gnocchi, all lined up on parchment paper and ready to plunge into boiling water. Um, yum.

It’s not that I have had trouble with store-bought gnocchi—I love it, too—but with some Happy Boy Farms sweet potatoes in the crisper, it occurred to me that I might put a weekend evening to good use by trying to make some of the homemade variety. Topped with a simple sauce made of Straus Family Creamery butter, Happy Boy Farms sage and salt, and paired with a glass of Sonoma County Merlot, it was a decadent way to serve up a lovely weekend dinner.

I’m calling these “rustic” with a tip of the hat to Laura Rebecca’s Kitchen, which features Rustic Napoleons in today’s entry:

“I’ve decided that anything I make — be it baked, sauteed, fried, roasted — that doesn’t come out looking like something out of a Williams-Sonoma cookbook will be dubbed “rustic.”

Hence, rustic Napoleons. (I should probably go back through the archives and rename 95-percent of the recipes here.)”

Because it was my first attempt at gnocchi, these didn’t look nearly as pretty as the ones I’ve eaten by more talented chefs. And this was even after getting some over-the-phone instruction from a Sicilian friend who’s a pretty talented chef himself. Thusly and therefore, mine are rustic, because otherwise I’m going to have to tell the truth, which is that they looked a little bit like small thumbprint cookies without the jam in the center.

But they did not taste like thumbprint cookies. Not in the least. They were delicious and satisfying comfort food, which is just what I was looking for when I started the process. And using sweet potatoes rather than regular potatoes imparted a Fall-spirited earthiness that I loved.

One final note: This recipe made enough gnocchi for four people as a side dish or two people (three if no one’s really starving) as a main dish. The gnocchi freeze quite well, as long as you put them on a cookie sheet and freeze them individually for about 20 minutes before you put them in a bag for safekeeping in the freezer. When you’re ready to cook the frozen gnocchi, just boil water, salt the water once it’s boiling, and add the frozen gnocchi at that point. Once they’ve floated to the top of the water, let them cook about another minute or two and they’ll be ready to serve.

Rustic Sweet Potato Gnocchi
(Serves 4 as a side dish, 2 as a main course)

Approximately 1/2 pound of sweet potatoes
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. freshly grated nutmeg
1 egg
1 c. whole wheat flour
1 TBSP. olive oil

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Bake the sweet potatoes until they are soft. Remove them and let them cool.
2. Mash the sweet potatoes (you can also rice them, but I don’t own a ricer, so I just used a potato masher with reasonable results). Add the salt, nutmeg, olive oil and egg and mix well. Add the flour a little bit at a time, working it into the dough before adding more. You want the dough to be soft and pliable, so if you don’t need to add the full cup of flour, that’s OK.
3. Boil a pot of salted water. While the water is boiling, pinch off evenly-sized pieces of dough (approximately 1/2 TBSP per gnocchi) and roll them in your palms to make an almond-shaped piece. Then use your thumb to gently indent them. When the water is boiling, drop them in and let them cook until they float to the surface. Remove them with a slotted spoon and serve immediately with a sauce of your choosing. I recommend melting butter and sizzling about a handful of torn fresh sage leaves in the butter, then adding some salt to taste and drizzling the mixture over the gnocchi just before serving.

Although it’s a little early to be thinking about the weekend already, this is my contribution for Weekend Herb Blogging, which is hosted this week by Amy and Jonny of We Are Never Full. This weekend, I hope you’ll swing by their joint to read the full round-up.

• Potato eater’s salad
• Roasted fingerling potato salad
• Lazy pesto potatoes
• Crepes a la Sam
• Slow-cooked roast beef with fresh sage and dried tomatoes