Things I Love: Tiny Dramas Over Coffee and Cookies

My husband took a sabbatical year recently and we spent five months in London, UK – one of those spots where all the Brexit fun is happening. If, before our departure, I mentioned to someone in the US or Canada that I would be spending time in London, almost invariably one of the first questions I’d be asked was something along the lines of, “Will you go to Ottolenghi’s?”

If you don’t know about Ottolenghi, let me enlighten you. Yotam Ottolenghi is a young Israeli/English chef whose cookbooks have become a sensation in North America and, as far as we can tell, Western Europe. As for the rest of the world: I don’t know about their Ottolenghi fervor, but here on this side of The Pond (Canada, at least), he is hot stuff.

Look, Honey, We’re Part Of The Zeitgeist!

Five years ago, Ottolenghi came to Vancouver to promote his newest cookbook as part of a series of talks sponsored by a local cookbook store. My husband and I were fans of Ottolenghi’s Jerusalem and so we got tickets. As we walked to the venue the evening of the event, my husband wondered aloud if tickets had sold well. I had no such doubts, and I responded that it would probably be a respectably successful showing for our new buddy Yotam. We were both wrong: the cavernous hall at the local Jewish Community Centre was filled to beyond-capacity, with even standing room in short supply. Using sophisticated crowd estimation measures (i.e., we guessed), we decided that between 800-1000 people had shown up to hear Ottolenghi talk about his cookbook and his thoughts on cooking. It was a lovely, fascinating evening – which also describes very well, actually, Ottolenghi’s recipes: unusual combinations of spices, vegetables, grains and green herbs – vegetarian, vegan or otherwise. Every recipe of his that we have made and/or eaten at friends’ houses has been superb as well as a revelation.

Ottolenghi in London

Londoners holds Mr. Ottolenghi in high esteem, as well, if one can judge from a) the number of locations of his establishments; b) the difficulty of obtaining dinner reservations at one of his restaurants; c) the popularity of his books; and d) the rate of growth of his business enterprise. Unexpected raves of Ottolenghi crop up in surprising ways: on one of the many London Walking Tours that we enjoyed during our time there, the tour of the old Jewish Quarter included an encomium, declaimed with British accent, by our guide Rachel about the glories of Ottolenghi. “If you are at a dinner party, complete with wonderful friends, excellent wine, and amazing food that you figure has a list of ingredients as long as your arm, you are likely enjoying food from an Ottolenghi cookbook. If you are fortunate enough to be served food imagined by him and prepared by your host, consider yourself well-loved!”

We had many wonderful dinners with friends in London, but we took our Ottolenghi worship into our own hands. While we were there, we visited several of his restaurants including his newest (Rovi), which we enjoyed with dear friends from Utrecht (a’ la Rachel, we hope that they felt loved because they were, and are).

Of his London locations, we visited Ottolenghi’s Spitalfields restaurant/cafe most frequently, for either lunch or afternoon tea. It was so easy and pleasant to stop in for a coffee and pastry, or have a slightly overpriced lunch that was delicious enough to shrug off the indulgence as part of what one expects from London. There was also an Ottolenghi spot a few minutes’ walk from where we lived during our time there, in north Notting Hill/Maida Vale. In our first days in London, I popped by and perused the many offerings on display, thinking to load up on an instant dinner. In the end I bought nothing because, after examining the ten or so offerings for entrees, I realized that I had made all of them myself. There was no excitement in buying what I make at home, especially as my renditions tastes so spectacular, despite coming from my own sad efforts. Ottolenghi is that good.

For A Good Time…

A good friend from Vancouver, upon hearing I was to spend time in London, immediately secured some possible dates for a visit. I had invited her, of course, and she accepted with delightful alacrity. She was a fabulous guest, a perfect guest, really, and we had a marvelous time together. Ottolenghi was one of the stops we enjoyed together during a day in Spitalfields, although our visit that day offered a little something extra… This interlude-with-a-friend is described below, written while still in London, and remains one of my treasured memories of London. It is also special because I spent most of my days solo, albeit quite happily, but is always a treat to spend time with a good friend in possession of a great sense of humor, with proper appreciation for the twisted. When she left, I was very sorry to see her go.

February 2019, London

Stopped in at Ottolenghi this afternoon with a visiting friend to grab a flat white and one of the delicious pastries that reside there. Unlike other visits to this Ottolenghi location, today’s had live entertainment. This consisted of a front row view of the picture window by the door, through which we could see in the road the well-flattened body of a rat. Picking at the rat was a single gull, who was determinedly but delicately picking at the corpse, now and then securing a pink, tasty morsel for his troubles. When I pointed it out to our server she told us that she had almost run it over while riding her bike that morning when coming to work. I love Ottolenghi!