Dumplings that don’t play by the rules
Defending (and devouring) Idrijski žlikrofi
The town of Idrija lies in the Slovenian Littoral, the westernmost part of the country that abuts Italy and includes Slovenia’s short Adriatic coast. While I’ve never visited the place, I’ve been in love with its eponymous dumplings since I first tried them several years ago.
Idrijski žlikrofi (“Idrian dumplings”—not to be confused with “Istrian”) belong to the family of potato-filled pasta found where German and Italian cuisines mingle. I find them deeply satisfying, their al dente skins contrasting beautifully with the smoothness of their filling. Each is stuffed with a seasoned mash of potatoes and then pinched shut in a roughly triangular shape. They cannot fail to satisfy.
I also appreciate their mild heresy, defying one of those absurd orthodoxies invented to police what should properly go into our mouths. Everyone’s an amateur food scientist these days, tossing around vaguely biochemical terms like simple or complex carbohydrates, protein, saturation types of fats, free radicals and antioxidants, virtuous versus insidious cholesterol, and (my personal favorite) the catch-all Shangri-La of “superfoods.”
I’m not some antediluvian gourmand who scoffs at anyone trying to understand the nexus of diet and health. I don’t believe our forebears possessed some pure and intuitive knowledge of what was best for us to eat. But I do think an overly analytical approach to food generates anxiety and (in the most common response to disquiet) the promulgation of rules to give us a sense of mastery and control.
This is a very pedantic way of saying that the notion you shouldn’t have potatoes and pasta in one dish is foolish and entirely misguided. Yes, both are starches. I don’t dispute that. But why is it somehow illegitimate for certain starches to co-occur? If the combination yielded a poison, the prohibition would be sensible. But it doesn’t. I suspect that it comes from the faint odor of disgrace attached to the word “starch”—surely you’ve noticed how often people utter it in the same tone of voice as words like “clog” or “rash.” If starch is disreputable, then two starches together must be scandalous.
Fortunately, the people of the Alpine foothills have never espoused this nonsense and happily marry tuber and boiled dough to delicious effect (just as the Ligurians have done with their marvelous lasagna and the Poles in their culinary masterpiece, pierogi).
Idrian dumplings are served in different ways. Sometimes, you’ll find them alongside a meaty stew.
Veal goulash with a bowl of Idrijski žlikrofi (Ljubljana 2018)
Other times, they come with a creamy or cheesy sauce graced with cuts of cured meat.
Idrijski žlikrofi in Gorgonzola sauce with smoked pork (Ljubljana 2024)
I’ve also had them on their own, simply dressed with melted butter or sour cream, and topped with black pepper or authentic Hungarian paprika (similar to how pelmeni and manti are often presented).
I’m so passionate about these dumplings that upon arriving in Ljubljana, my first task is to locate a nearby restaurant that has them on its menu. If you’re ever fortunate enough to also visit this delightful city, I urge you to do the same.