A lot of restaurants serve gnocchi.

There’s an inexplicably famous spot in Montreal that serves gnocchi in little takeout containers. 🥡 
Trader Joe’s even has a serviceable cauliflower gnocchi that can make a pretty dope dinner in a pinch. 🤷‍♀️

But I had the best gnocchi of my life last week in Paris.

After a morning at the Louvre — unpopular opinion: the Mona Lisa is a tourist trap — my husband and I made our way to a little restaurant in the Marais called Parcelles.

As my husband pored over the wine list, I drooled over the menu. I quickly spotted what I’d be ordering:
Gnocchi au beurre du sauge, sauge frite
(Translated: gnocchi, sage butter, fried sage)

As we sipped Champagne and enjoyed our entrées — here, entrées are appetizers and plats are entrées, kinda like a tall is a small at Starbucks — a server placed a plate of gnocchi at the table next to us.

The sage smacked me in the nostrils. I watched hungrily as my neighbor wolfed down her dish, sopping up the last of the sauce with a bit of bread.

When my own dish arrived, I stabbed that first lil’ potato pillow, tentatively took a bite…
And I sat for a good 10 seconds, eyes closed, just savoring it.

The butter, flecked with perfectly browned milk solids, tinted pale green from the sage.
The gnocchi, not the least bit gummy, sauce shimmering along its surface, clinging just enough to leave enough behind for that crusty bread to sop up.

Nothing fancy. And yet, nearly tear inducing. Because every component was absolutely perfect. 

So: Am I sharing this because I just want to brag that I had the best gnocchi ever in the best city ever? No. Well. Maybe a little. 😉

There’s a point, and here it is:

You probably have competitors who offer a similar product or service. People who need that product or service will take whichever one they find first. They’ll settle for that, until they find The One™.

The one that’s perfectly executed in every way, with care and commitment to quality, and, yes, even love.

And it could be yours.

Will I finish the two packages of Trader Joe’s cauli gnocchi in my freezer? Yes.
Will I enjoy it the way I used to? Hell naw.

I will never forget that gnocchi in Paris. I will dream of that gnocchi. I will sit my children (read: cats) down one day and tell them about that gnocchi.

Commit today to becoming the beurre sage.
Be. The. Gnocchi. 🧘🏻‍♀️

Fry my sage, baby,
Paige