The Easy Cakes of Ottolenghi

‘food that is closer to the source … emanating from genuine instincts’

In his salad days of skins and caves, man
gave chase. He slaughtered buck, swallowed
the heart. He knew adrenaline, hauled woman

after woman by the hair. That’s all gone.
Now there’s money and a new ache every day,
sags in unexpected places, a loss of collagen

and desire. Hunger’s always knocking
at the edges, just the tongue that’s jaded.
The waitress leans into the table:

Sorrel sir, or salsify? The soft salt melt
of sea-bream, halibut, a thrill
of salsa, quince and pomegranate.

Then dessert: the easy cakes of Ottolenghi
drip their syrups, glisten in the night, secrete
fresh tones of apple, grenadilla, rose.

Jacqueline Saphra, an award winning poet, an Ottolenghi fan and "a woman that thinks too much," according to Sami, has written this smart-and-witty poem after attending our cooking class in December. She promises to write more.

Just back from a fantastically inspiring short trip to Tokyo with Noam. We went to check if this is really the new food capital of the world. And we came back with a resounding YES.

We were totally blown away by the simple food we had at small sushi joints and local izakayas (the equivalent of a British gastro-pub, but nothing like it, really).

But what was the most impressive were the food halls in the basements of the big department stores. There was nothing to prepare us for the abundance of pastries and prepared foods, for the rivers of knowledgeable and excited shoppers, for the quality and beautiful packaging... for the foodie's heaven that these places are.

We will be back.

Tsukiji market

The view from our hotel room. Unfortunately, we could only afford one night

Plastic food

Real (?) food

Japanese sweets

Noam outside Yabu Soba, greatest soba noodle restaurant in the world, at least in our mind