Creamy Gochujang Gnocchi

For my birthday last year, deputy food editor Hana Asbrink made a large pot of rosé tteokbokki, a cream-drunk version of the popular Korean rice cakes. Hana’s skillet was crowded with cylindrical rice cakes, pinkie-size hot dogs, and hard-boiled eggs. I squealed. I packed some deli containers to bring home, promising Hana I’d share it with my partner. In reality I only (very reluctantly) sacrificed a few spoonfuls and half an egg to him. No one could come between me and my birthday-bokki. I was utterly bedeviled.

Rosé tteokbokki’s pandemic-era virality has been fanned by the flames of a social media landscape obsessed with rosé versions of various foods. Rosé sauce is thought to be a spicy, gochujang-rich take on tomato-cream sauce, itself an inspired (some would say corrupted) variation on Italian marinara. To me it is a charming emblem of how food travels across the world and morphs into new traditions. When I began to make it for myself (because, sadly, I couldn’t convince Hana to move in), I started to think about what I could use in place of tteok, an ingredient my colleagues and I love very much, but can’t always find in every grocery store.

Turns out, a vacuum-sealed pouch of shelf-stable potato gnocchi is an admirable stand-in for Korean rice cakes. Compared to freshly made gnocchi, they’re doughy and dense, but in this case, that’s a good thing. As the gnocchi cook, their starch gently thickens the auburn sauce, all the while holding on to their shape and softening into a comforting chew. I like to think of it as a slightly wonky but full circle moment, a return to the vaguely Italian roots of rosé tteokbokki.

Try not to skip the hot dogs. It is that vivacious jus de hot dog, achieved as the liquid boils cheerfully, that lays a foundation of gutsy flavor. A 10-oz. bag of frozen broccoli florets is a quick and convenient alternative to fresh broccoli with only a little textural sacrifice.