What defines this version is the exchange of heat between a just-fried dough pillow and a single slice of prosciutto crudo laid across it. The base is gnocco fritto, the Emilian rectangle of leavened dough that balloons in hot fat into a hollow, blistered, airy pillow. Drape a fold of sweet, fat-marbled prosciutto over it while it is still hot off the oil and the fat in the cured meat slackens almost on contact: the edge of the slice goes translucent, the rendered fat glosses the crackling shell, and the salt of the cure is rounded by the warmth into something softer than it is when the meat is cold. The pillow's heat is the entire mechanism. It is not melting cheese or warming a braise; it is just enough heat to relax a slice of cured pork into the bread it is sitting on.
The craft is the slice and the timing of the meeting. The prosciutto is cut paper-thin and laid in a loose fold rather than flat, so the hot surface reaches as much of it as possible and the fat can soften through the whole drape instead of only where it touches; a thick cut would sit cold in the middle and the effect would be lost. The pairing is deliberate beyond contrast: the lean, salty cure wants the bland, fatty, faintly steaming dough underneath it, and the dough wants the salt and fat it has none of, so each supplies what the other lacks. It is assembled the instant the gnocco comes out of the fat and eaten immediately, because both halves are at their best for the same short moment, the pillow before it deflates and the meat just as its fat turns.
The variations are the other things laid over the same hot pillow rather than changes to this pairing: gnocco fritto with a board of mixed salumi, with soft squacquerone, and the plain gnocco fritto eaten on its own. Each of those deserves its own article rather than being crowded in here.