Ottolenghi has colonised British food

As far as chefs and food writers go, Yotam Ottolenghi has been pretty influential on my life – a life that revolves quite heavily around food. Choosing it, thinking about it, pathologising it, eating it and sometimes even cooking it. I was one of those who was delighted when supermarkets started stocking pomegranate molasses, rose harissa and Middle Eastern spices like sumac and za’atar, all courtesy of the seismic influence of the Jerusalem-born Ottolenghi and his Palestinian partner in crime, Sami Tamimi.

I had, like everyone else in 2010s centrist middle-class Britain, got my hands on his recipe books Jerusalem (2012) and Plenty (2011). I would spend weekends painstakingly hunting down ingredients like barberries and sorrel and found true delight in the rich, zingy and interesting creations that ensued, invariably leaving my kitchen a bomb site. For a while I was cuckoo for his broad bean kuku – a rich, berry-studded frittata baked in a frying pan.