Perhaps the fascination began, not with the actual food, which I had never tasted, but with the word itself. I like words.

Gnocchi is pronounced NYOK-ee. The word feels good in the mouth, a pleasure to say. Try it: gnocchi.

Gnocchi is the plural of gnoccho. A gnoccho is a dumpling, or, literally, a lump. A plate of gnocchi is a serving of little lumps, which pleases me, or at least the idea of it does.

The reality was something different. I found a reputable recipe for gnocchi and followed the directions assiduously: Boil and rice potatoes, mix with egg, add flour and salt, knead, roll into a coil and slice off 1-inch gnocchi. Boil until they float to the surface and then…

I was not happy with the result. They were fun to make, and they looked great, but, when I bit into one, its consistency was disappointing. The gnoccho was dense and soggy, a lumpling.

“Leave it alone,” my sister suggested when I called her for advice. “Gnocchi-making is not within our purlieu. Or purview. Gnocchi are not in our DNA. Stick to pies.”

She was right. My continued attempts to make authentic gnocchi were doomed to bring only disappointment and a sort of generally helpless feeling. Nevertheless, I persisted. I couldn’t help it. Once I get involved with a project, I just can’t let it go until I have a handle on it.

I had no experience with gnocchi; I’d had no nonna to teach me, no Italian chef dropping by my cucina to offer me pointers. What texture is considered acceptable? Who knows, I thought, maybe dense and soggy is appropriate.

The texture of gnocchi is described by cookbook author Laura Giannatempo as “plump and pillowy.” Nowhere did I find the adjective gummy, a word that would better capture the essence of my gnocchi. I went on Facebook and asked. Several helpful people commented. One, who has Italian roots and so, I am assuming, some familiarity with the dish, was encouraging.

“It is admirable that you are even trying to make gnocchi,” she told me, and I appreciated her kindness. I kept trying.

Gnocchi are made from mashed potatoes, flour, egg and salt, just like the potato balls my grandmother, Rosie, used to make. I believe Rosie’s potato balls also contained milk. Gnocchi recipes sometimes call for cheese. So you see, Sissy, gnocchi are not so terribly far outside our purview. Or purlieu.

Remembering Rosie’s potato balls, I recalled her constant advice for all kinds of baked goods, from pies to sugar cookies: “Don’t toughen up your dough.”

Overworking, overhandling the dough toughens it, as does adding too much flour, she taught my little sister and me. If I can make potato balls, I can make gnocchi. Right?

First, let’s get this straight: Rosie did not make gnocchi. She did not make dumplings. Nor did she make lumplings. She fried those potato balls in an iron skillet. I loved them. They were delicious, although I remember them as blackened, just like her pancakes and the toast she made in the oven and then scraped. (Rosie never burned the pies or cookies, though, and, while she always burned the toast, she never burned the biscuits.)

So I riced the boiled potatoes, went light on the flour, handled the dough gingerly, and then followed a recipe that involved frying the gnocchi instead of boiling them. The texture was definitely improved. But you tell me: What food isn’t improved by sauteing in olive oil with garlic, bacon, parmesan, tomatoes and basil?

There are also variations on gnocchi: cavatelli, gnudi, malfatti and strangolapreti, or priest stranglers. Don’t the names sound wonderful? But we have to remember that a piece of gnocchi is only a potato ball, no more. We cannot expect too much from it.

Never mind all the gnocchi variations now. My sister, unaccountably, has sent me a beautiful cast iron tortilla press, enameled bright blue, along with several kinds of masa harina. Unaccountably, because tortilla-making is as foreign to our upbringing as gnocchi-making. Still, if we remember nothing else from high school, we recall the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson: “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.” It’s time for a new project!

Have a good week.

(Martha Allen, of Keene Valley, has been writing for the News since 1996.)