Cookbooks We Love: 'Ottolenghi Simple' is one of the most inspired — and inspiring — cookbooks in a decade

By Leslie Brenner

Ottolenghi Simple, by Yotam Ottolenghi with Tara Wigley and Esme Howarth, photographs by Jonathan Lovekin, 2018, Ten Speed Press, $35.

Backgrounder: Unless you’ve been cooking under a rock for the last decade (or only started cooking recently), you probably know who Yotam Ottolenghi is. The London-based, Israeli-born chef probably has had greater influence than any other in the world on contemporary American (and other Anglophone) cooking in the last decade. His kind of free-form, casual, herb-strewn, plant-based (whether vegetarian or vegan or not), sun-kissed, Mediterranean-inflected aesthetic informs the creative endeavors of cooking writers, chefs and recipe developers for mainstream generalist sites like New York Times Cooking or Washington Post Voraciously, as well as a generation of cooking bloggers, restaurant chefs and Instagram posters. If formal, carefully arranged, tweezer-food plates feel out-of-date, it is largely thanks to Ottolenghi.

Ottolenghi’s first title, Ottolenghi: The Cookbook — co-written with his business partner, chef Sami Tamimi, was published in Britain in 2008, followed by Plenty (2010); Jerusalem (2012, again with Tamimi); Plenty More (2014); Nopi (2014, with Ramael Scully); Sweet (2017, with Helen Goh); Ottolenghi Simple (2018, with Tara Wigley and Esme Howarth); and Ottolenghi Flavour (or Flavor, for the U.S. edition, 2020, with Ixta Belfrage and Tara Wigley).

Puy lentils with eggplant, tomatoes and yogurt from ‘Ottolenghi Simple’

Why we love it

Simple may not be as exciting or groundbreaking as Plenty or Jerusalem were when they were published (they are still two of my favorite cookbooks), but it is packed with an astounding number of recipes we want to cook over and over again, as well as recipes we can’t wait to try. As with his other books, the recipes work; rarely is there anything about them I’d change or tweak. Yet unlike many of his other books, these recipes are do-able by ordinary cooks who don’t want to chase down a long list of obscure ingredients or start preparing sub-recipes the day before you want to eat.

Most are designed to be simple enough so that you can achieve them on a busy weeknight — which is a big part of why the book is so incredibly appealing. It’s a book for the way so many of us want to eat — we want dishes that are delicious, plant-forward, interesting, healthful, satisfying and unfussy, and that’s what this book delivers, over and over again. If you keep a few key ingredients in your pantry (things the author calls “Ottolenghi Ingredients” — sumac, tahini, preserved lemon, black garlic and za’atar, to name half of them), plus staples like yogurt and green lentils and basic seasonal produce, you can often pull together these dishes without making a special shopping trip. Other times, there’s an easy swap you can make, if, for instance, you don’t have the suggested herb.

Two cases in point

Puy Lentils with Eggplant, Tomatoes and Yogurt (pictured above) is fabulous garnished with the fresh oregano leaves it calls for, but I’ve also subbed in parsley, mint or cilantro when I didn’t have any oregano, to delicious effect. I’m sure basil would be great as well.

And for a dish of Chickpeas and Swiss Chard with Yogurt, Ottolenghi grants permission in the headnote to leave off his suggested cilantro garnish should you find yourself without. The night I made it — entirely pulled together from stuff I had on hand — parsley and mint did the trick perfectly. The dish is the kind of satisfying and interesting main course I’m always wishing for on days when I want to do without meat. That night, I happened to whip it together to go with a dish my son Wylie had spotted and was making also from Simple — Lamb and Pistachio Patties with Sumac Yogurt Sauce. Both were wonderful.

You’ve gotta try this

Brussels Sprouts with Browned Butter and Black Garlic. When I spotted packages of black garlic (intensely umami-forward fermented garlic) at my supermarket a few weeks ago, I grabbed one; it lasts for two or three months unopened. Then, the other day when I was trying to imagine how not to be bored by the pound of Brussels sprouts I’d envisioned for that evening, I found this exciting-looking recipe in Simple. Fortunately I happened to have some pumpkin seeds and caraway seeds (of course those are easy to find). The dish was brilliantly quick to prepare: a 10-minute roast in a blazing oven, followed by a toss with browned butter and a quickly made paste of black garlic, caraway seeds and thyme. A big squirt of lemon juice, a drizzle of tahini and dinner is served. It was insanely good.

Maybe you’ve already tried this — Stuffed Zucchini with Pine Nut Salsa. We wrote about it last summer in a story about zucchini. I’ve also made and loved more dishes than I could fit in this story: Cucumber and Lamb’s Lettuce Salad; a mezze spread called Crushed Zucchini; Roasted Eggplant with Anchovies and Oregano.

On a sweet note

I wanted to try one of the twelve great-looking desserts in the book, but for every one I was missing an ingredient. (I’ve been snowed in for four days!). I baked a Blueberry, Almond and Lemon Cake from the book anyway, subbing in a bag of frozen wild blueberries and I had for the fresh ones. It was a treat, but I think it’ll be even better with fresh berries, as the frozen ones were a bit dull. Stay tuned for an update once the ice melts. Come summer, I’ll be excited to make his Plum, Blackberry and Bay Friand (a friand is a light almond cake that the headnote tells us is popular in Australia, New Zealand and France).

Also still wanna cook

Most of the book! The minute it’s asparagus season, I’ll make Roasted Asparagus with Almonds, Capers and Dill. And I covet Cavolo Nero with Chorizo and Preserved Lemon; Cauliflower, Pomegranate and Pistachio Salad; Roasted Baby Carrots with Harissa and Pomegranate; Roasted Beets with Yogurt and Preserved Lemon; Orzo with Shrimp, Tomato and Marinated Feta; Pasta with Pecorino and Pistachios; and Lamb Siniyah — “the Middle Eastern equivalent of a shepherd’s pie, with a tahini crust standing in for the layer of mashed potato.”

Do yourself a favor. If you don’t have this book, and these are the kind of dishes that appeal to you, treat yourself to a copy today. Flavor has been getting lots of great press — and it’s a good book — but the recipes don’t scream “cook me” (in my ear, anyway!) as loudly as they do in Simple.

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Fridge-clearing and fabulously flavorful, Sunday Souper Soup will set you up deliciously for the week

When a nation of restaurant-goers turns (almost overnight!) into a society of captive home cooks, the stresses caused by fridge management can be monumental.

Keeping everyone in comfort food is easy: There’s pasta and cheese for that. Rice concoctions galore. Potatoes are a no-brainer in any form. Pizza is a track-pad click away.

Still, you diligently keep the fridge stocked with healthy fresh things: broccoli and kale, carrots and cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, salad greens and herbs.

So that by Sunday, the crisper drawer is stuffed with stuff that’s not so crisp, and you’re left beating yourself up about waste. Meanwhile, what are you going to put on the dinner table in the coming week?

If besides all that stuff you can rustle up a few basic staples, I’ve got great news for you: You can turn those hapless refrigerator victims into a Sunday super-soup that’s so incredibly flavorful that no one would ever suspect you of anything so nefarious as using up tired greens. It’ll solve the coming week’s lunch question and provide a dinner or two — all while saving money and helping you dodge a food-waste bullet.

It gets even better: You can pack the soup with an arsenal of life-affirming, enchantingly aromatic spices and herbs that turn the whole project into an anti-inflammatory, anti-oxidant, flavonoid-rich powerhouse. It is vegan and gluten-free, and therefore sends you into the coming week feeling vital and positive. That gigantic pan of bacon-enriched mac-and-cheese you devoured on Thursday, washed down with three glasses of wine? It is vitamin water under the comfort-food bridge. Today is a new day.

The essential staples you’ll need: onions, carrots and celery (diced together they make what the French call mirepoix); lentils; a can of tomatoes; olive or other oil; salt and pepper. These, plus water, form the base of the soup. And if you follow our master recipe, that’s all you really need for a delicious one. The basic outline is sweat the mirepoix in oil, add lentils, tomatoes, water, salt and pepper, bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer till it’s soup — under an hour.

Our master recipe — which we first wrote about pre-Covid, in a story back in January — explains how to incorporate all those vegetables crying for rescue from the fridge: everything from root vegetables (turnips, parsnips, celery root, beets) to Brassicaceae (broccoli, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts and whatnot) to fresh legumes (string beans, peas and such) to leafy greens. The veg can be raw or cooked, so that small dish of roasted cauliflower with Punjabi spices left over from Friday dinner can find a new life in a lush (and zero waste!) soup, and the lonely cupful of sautéed greens from four days ago may gain delicious new purpose.

And you’ll want to spice it up: turmeric, coriander seed and cumin seeds are great places to start; ginger and garlic are your aromatic allies; fresh and dried chiles are always welcome; nigella seeds and flax seeds add nutritional heft; so do mushrooms, dried or fresh. Herbs — fresh and dried — are superb additions.

Again, our January story gives a lot of the health background and zero-waste benefits. Give it a read first if you’re interested in making the soup as powerfully healthful as possible. Otherwise, I invite you to explore the recipe.

And then take a deep dive into that crisper drawer and make soup!

MASTER RECIPE: Sunday Souper Soup

Cool as a cuke: Four cucumber-happy salads to refresh you through a hot and heavy summer

Blimey, we all need a chill pill! In the absence of an effective one, we’ve been turning to the coolest of vegetables, the cucumber.

The Oxford Companion to Food tells us that the cucumber is “one of the oldest cultivated vegetables,” that it has been grown for some 4,000 years, that it may have originated in South India and that Christopher Columbus introduced it to Haiti in 1494. Jessica B. Harris points out, however, in The Africa Cookbook, that the some scholars feel that the cucumber may have come from Central Africa.

But wait — isn’t “one of the oldest cultivated vegetables” technically a fruit?

“It is a fruit,” says my friend Tim Simmonds, a Dallas botanist — and so are squashes, both summer and winter, including pumpkins. “Same big happy family.”

The curcurbit family, that is: the vine-y plant group that also includes watermelons, chayotes, gourds, cassabananas (a.k.a. melocotón) and the kiwano (a.k.a. African horned cucumber or jelly melon).

Given the cucumber’s origin story, it’s not surprising that it is popular in India — especially in the form of raita.

The cooling cucumber salad accompanies just about any kind of Indian meal, of course. But I’ve been known to enjoy a bowl of it on its own for a soothing lunch (particularly in a pandemic!).

Ours features grated cucumber, toasted cumin and a touch of lemon juice.

A Cucumber Sunomono was literally the first recipe we test-drove for our recent review of Sonoko Sakai’s Japanese Home Cooking, since the cucumber salad is a frequent starter of Japanese meals. This one, which weaves wakame seaweed in with the cukes, sports a jaunty grated-ginger garnish. We fell in love, not surprisingly. Maybe you will, too (let us know in a comment!).

Cucumbers also make appearances in Sakai’s recipe for Potato Salada and Dallas chef Justin Holt’s Salaryman Potato Salad.

But we’re not counting those in our four, so wait, there’s more!

This pretty Cucumber, Radish and Feta Salad came together as we riffed on a Levantine dish called khiar bel na’na, starring thin-sliced cukes, dried mint and orange-blossom water. We added radishes, scallions, feta and fresh mint (which layers beautifully with the dried). Lately it has become a house favorite.

And finally, this Scandanavian Cucumber-Dill Salad — which is wonderful with poached salmon, Cold Poached Arctic Char or even Swedish meatballs.

A happy development, at least in my neck of the woods, is that organic Persian cucumbers have become more readily available, even during the pandemic. They have lovely texture (as long as they’re nice and fresh), they’re less watery than English cukes but more flavorful than most hothouse cukes, and they don’t require peeling — a win win win. Though sizes for all kinds vary, generally speaking you can figure two Persian cucumbers for one medium English cucumber, or three for a large English cuke.

As you’ll see from the above recipes, many cultures salt cucumbers and let them sit to draw out the water and ensure great texture; sometimes gentle squeezing is called for as well. Hope you enjoy these refreshing treats.

Stay cool. Think cuke. Wear a mask. Stay healthy.

[RECIPE: Cucumber Raita]

[RECIPE: Cucumber Sunomono]

[RECIPE: Cucumber, Radish & Feta Salad]

[RECIPE: Cucumber-Dill Salad]