Gnocchi on Heaven’s Door

Because I used up all the pep in my step earlier today and am now in the throes of an adorable cold that has me sniffling real sexy-like and feeling like an enormous wad of The New York Post is crammed into my cranium, the best I can offer you right now is a figurative taste of part of what I had for dinner tonight at the fabulous Blossom Cafe (or Cafe Blossom? Who knows. It appears both ways on the restaurant’s own websites). Of all the dishes we had, including an appetizer, two entrees, a cookie, and a chocolate-fudgy-fruity “terrine” (in quotation marks because, like “L.A.”, I just can’t bring myself to say it comfortably and/or without wanting to punch myself in the larynx while rolling my eyes), the sweet potato gnocchi pictured here is the only one whose photographic representation actually resembles what the actual dish looked like in the non-flesh. But even then, this does it no justice. Trust me when I say that in real life, you would exclaim, much like I did to our adorable waiter-boy, “Oh, my god, I just want to swim in it!” If you click on the image to enlarge it, you may see what I mean. I also said, of the sauce, that I wanted to “slather it all over someone’s body and lick it off.” And here is where I pretend to turn as red as the beets used to make the drizzly part of the sauce.