a different version of ottolenghi's krantz cake

almond orange blossom krantz cake

the trouble with christmas is that it leaves an abundance of sweet things in its wake. there are boxes of chocolates tucked into drawers, biscuits languishing in the biscuit tin and homemade christmas cake. there was also leftover marzipan that needed to be dealt with. a little short of new years eve i had some friends coming over for tea so i decided to turn the left over marzipan into ottolenghi’s krantz cake. the recipe that appears in jerusalem is beautifully illustrated – a plait of dough that reveals an interior of chocolate and pecans. i reworked the recipe by replacing the chocolate and nut mixture with my homemade marzipan and plenty of orange peel. the sugar syrup was replaced with honey and orange blossom to give it a glossy finish. 

the making of ottolenghi's beetroot fritters

note: ottolenghi recipes

we have a somewhat cult-ish following of ottolenghi. i got i a signed version of his cookbook which she then recommended to a friend of hers who is in love with it too. a colleague at work went and bought it and declared it to be food porn. of course i own an ottolenghi cookbook and religiously collect recipes that appear in his observer column every week.

the thing about these recipes is that they can appear quite complex. initially i was both daunted and felt reluctant using them because of the length of the ingredients lists and the steps involved. i’ve overcome that fear now and feel confident enough to offer you this advice. what one has to realize about ottolenghi is that they tend to use an elaborate list of spices and herbs which add considerable length to the ingredients list. insofar as the steps involved, i often find that a little bit of creativity and adventure through adaptation and tweaking can help.

last night my flat mate and i cooked an ottolenghi dinner. we had roasted chicken with sumac, zatar and pine nuts and an apricot cous cous. it actually turned out to be quite simple as the chicken was left to marinate overnight and the cous cous really didn’t take that long. Instead of soaking dried apricots and chopping them i used the shortcut and got pre-chopped soft apricots. although this time j and i followed the spirit of the recipe closely, next time i will do away with frying the pine nuts in butter and blotting them by pan roasting them instead. It saves me extra dishes to wash, less paper towel used and tastes just the same.

so here is the thing, don’t let the cookbook intimidate you. instead read through the ingredients and steps and rationalize and tweak them. cheat where you can (after all delia and nigel do it too). and then sit back and enjoy with a glass of wine.

i must say that our roasted chicken was mild and flavourful. it’s quite remarkable how ottolenghi combines an assortment of flavours and neither one of them overpowers each other. our chicken was roasted with sumac, zatar, thinly sliced rings of lemon and cinnamon. the pine nuts added richness and chopped parsley, freshness. our cous cous was perfectly fluffy and slightly sweet with apricot and caramelised onions with the cool refreshing flavour of a trio of fresh herbs – mint, tarragon and parsley.

if you have an ottolenghi cookbook. try it. you won’t be disappointed.

breakfast at ottolenghi

ottolenghi, islington

mum and h and i went to ottolenghi for breakfast today. it is perhaps one of the most serene eateries i know off and i suspect it owes itself to the simplicity of its lines and the whiteness of its walls. all accents of color are attributed to the foods that flank either side of the entrance. large shallow terracotta bowls hold salad creations that are medley of color and taste – flat overlapping arrangements of seared meats both white and red are laid out to one side. the other side is taken up by a display of desserts, each of them beautifully crafted and tantalizing to the taste buds. otto’s signature meringues streaked with berries and chocolate are stacked high and rise about the cakes, tarts and muffins. a blackboard sports a colorfully written menu. there are shelves that house the condiments range – jars of preserves and bottles of oil.

whilst waiting for h to arrive mum and i ordered americano coffee, a rich dark roast served hot with hot milk. on the dining tables of otto sit little square wooden boards upon which are little glass jars bearing butter, preserves and chocolate spread studded with nuts. with h’s arrival came the order for breakfast. a bread plate bearing a slice of plain sourdough, sourdough with sour cherries and a cinnamon pretzel as the almond croissants were finished. a savory side of portobello mushrooms with crumbled feta trundled along at some point, their blackish brown juices with lines of olive oil and a fleck of green herbs gathering in the centre of the plate they were served on. the bread was lovely untoasted and one of the glass jars produced a lovely caramelized banana jam which i fell in love with. the raspberry preserves were excellent too.

 in a rather bizarre end to brunch we ordered a slice of chocolate rum fondant cake – a very luxurious and rich concoction of dark chocolate, heavy cream and a rounding note of rum that enclosed all the flavors of the dessert with a perfection that is classical of ottolenghi. each and every ottolenghi creation i have sampled is a testimony to the ability of both these cooks to create food that is a treat of flavors that reveal themselves collectively and yet do not get eclipsed individually. 

books for cooks and more

books for cooks 

i wrote this at the beginning on two thousand and seven. mum and i had a week in london. this is the story of one saturday in notting hill. after circuitous walk around portobello – lost in stalls stacked high with retro curios, antiques of dubious antiquity, books and compact discs. and having been rained down on and bought umbrella’s for three quid each later mum and i finally stumbled upon books for cooks

a bookshop dedicated to chefs complete with a cramped and cozy café at the tail end, serving up the days cooking at the classes conducted on the floor above. i tucked into a pear honey & polenta cake with a side of yeo valley’s organic yoghurt with a swirl of warm chocolate sauce out of a pan that sat on the hob. i’ve always had this fascination for polenta. it’s something about the texture – the feel of it on the tongue melting but with a soft grittiness, much like the semolina that mama used to make for me as a child. the bookshop itself is a tiny space lined to the ceiling with shelves with book upon book detailing food… the ABC of food – it’s origins – how to cook – when to cook what – culinary dictionaries and what-not

a little further up the road are melt and ottolenghi two places that i had bookmarked. melt has much to do with my new found passion for sea salt caramels. i’m not sure why but sea salt does something more to enhance the flavor of caramel than regular salt does. on the flight to london, mum and i got bumped up to club on ba and they served the most delicious sea salt caramels from a store somewhere on sloane street which i am hoping to track down on my next trip to London! melt’s charm isn’t only in its sea salt caramels but also in the fact that you can watch chocolate being tempered in the shop!

ottolenghi was white-walled accompanied by white crockery; perfect to emphasize the color of the food. red peppers grilled and splashed with olive oil and dotted with balls of fresh white mozzarella – aubergines bearing lines of the grill tossed with vinaigrette. chocolate tarts dark red brown and dusted with cacao and meringues bright white with streaks of chocolate and berry breaking through. mum and i returned there for breakfast on sunday to enjoy a melt in the mouth frittata and red pepper salad with hunks of sour dough bread, washed down with coffee. we couldn’t resist the meringues and bought one to go, a big mound of egg white. the eating of the meringue returned each of us to our childhoods – making us look like two little girls laughing silly. the center fluffy and sticky – satisfying like the ones we baked when i was a little girl and mum taught me how to beat my egg whites and fold in the vinegar and corn-flour. that shiny mountain of white that would transform into pavlova, crowned with fruit and cream.

one night we landed up at wagamama’s whose spartan décor, conveyer belt handling and quick food still makes me feel good. we tried sake that was served warm and tickled the back of our throats. somewhere in the midst of it all this we managed to visit the food court at selfridges, walking away with a bag of champagne truffles from leonidas that disappeared within seconds. there was the wednesdaysdale cheese sandy from marks and sparks, eaten on the run between getting to places…