From the Publisher
“No chef captures the flavors of the moment better than Yotam Ottolenghi.”
“Ottolenghi is a genius with vegetables—it’s possible that no other chef has devised so many clever ways to cook them.”
—Food & Wine
“Yotam Ottolenghi is the most creative but also practical cook of this new culinary era—a 21st-century Escoffier. If I had a four-star rating for cookbooks, I would give Plenty More five stars.”
—Wall Street Journal
“Chef Yotam Ottolenghi outdoes himself with the follow-up to his famed book Plenty. Expect even bigger, bolder meatless recipes.”
“Yotam Ottolenghi adds luscious notes to the vegetarian flavor spectrum in Plenty More.”
“Chef Yotam Ottolenghi’s Plenty More is a delicious ode to grains, legumes, and fresh vegetables.”
“A new wave of Ottolenghi fever (and fervor) is about to hit and, thank goodness, there’s no cure. I suggest you simply give in to it, replenish your spice pantry, gather your vegetables, grains and legumes, and celebrate big-time.”
“This smart chef knows flavor”
—Dr. Oz: The Good Life
Plenty More is even better than the original, fresh with the flavors and ingredients of Ottolenghi's most recent travels and readings. There are still many traces of his Middle Eastern influence, but now he's incorporated touches of Southeast Asia, India, New York, and Britain. Who pairs chanterelle mushrooms, black glutinous rice, tarragon, and goat cheese, and does so with aplomb? Only Ottolenghi. Even if you've already amassed a library of his books, you'll learn something new from Plenty More.
Ottolenghi is a food writer for the U.K.’s Guardian, as well as the owner of three gourmet delis and London’s Nopi restaurant. The heart of his operation, though, is a test kitchen nestled in a railway arch in central London, where he and his colleagues perfected the 150 recipes found here in his fourth cookbook. Offered as a sequel to his 2011 bestseller Plenty, the book is fairly dazzling in its use of obscure vegetation in the service of highly creative dishes. Barley rusks from Crete, known as dakos, are mixed in a salad with tomato and feta. Upma, an Indian semolina porridge, is flavored with ginger, peanuts, and lime pickle. Candy beets are simmered with lentils and yuzu. And familiar flavors turn up in unexpected places, as with the eggplant cheesecake and the Brussels sprout risotto. The dozen chapters are named for various cooking methods, and taken as a whole represent pretty much everything that can possibly be done to an unsuspecting veggie: tossed, steamed, blanched, simmered, braised, grilled, roasted, fried, mashed, cracked, baked, and sweetened. Cracked refers to the addition of eggs into the dish, such as in the membrillo (quince paste) and Stilton quiche. For those who prefer to hunt by ingredient, a comprehensive index points the way, from 11 recipes that employ almonds to seven options for zucchini. (Oct.)
London chef Ottolenghi (Jerusalem), famous for his Mediterranean and Middle Eastern-inspired vegetable dishes, is credited with popularizing previously hard-to-find ingredients and inspiring some of today's hottest culinary trends. When he developed recipes for this book's best-selling predecessor, Plenty, he worked alone. For this sequel, he worked in an official test kitchen with a team of dedicated chefs to create 125 brand-new vegetable dishes, including pink grapefruit and sumac salad, eggplant with black garlic, and coated olives with spicy yogurt. These are organized by cooking method (e.g., tossed, blanched, simmered), and while they require time and finesse (tomato and pomegranate salad calls for meticulous dicing), they are often revelatory, introducing textures and flavor combinations that readers won't find elsewhere. VERDICT Ottolenghi's latest doesn't disappoint. Expect demand.
Read an Excerpt
Vibrant Vegetable Cooking from London's Ottolenghi
By Yotam Ottolenghi
Random House LLC Copyright © 2014 Yotam Ottolenghi
All rights reserved.
Chunky green olives in olive oil; a heady marinade of soy sauce and chile; crushed chickpeas with green peas; smoky paprika in a potent dip; quinoa, bulgur, and buckwheat wedded in a citrus dressing; tahini and halvah ice cream; savory puddings; fennel braised in verjuice; Vietnamese salads and Lebanese dips; thick yogurt over smoky eggplant pulp—I could go on and on with a list that is intricate, endless, and exciting. But I wasn't always aware of this infinite bounty; it took me quite a while to discover it. Let me explain.
As you grow older, I now realize, you stop being scared of some things that used to absolutely terrify you. When I was a little, for example, I couldn't stand being left on my own. I found the idea—not the experience, as I was never really left alone—petrifying. I fiercely resented the notion of spending an evening unaccompanied well into my twenties; I always had a "plan." When I finally forced myself to face this demon, I discovered, of course, that not only was my worry unfounded, I could actually feast on my time alone.
Eight years ago, facing the prospect of writing a weekly vegetarian recipe in the Guardian, I found myself gripped by two such paralyzing fears.
First, I didn't want to be pigeonholed as someone who cooks only vegetables. At the time, and in some senses still today, vegetables and legumes were not precisely the top choice for most cooks. Meat and fish were the undisputed heroes in lots of homes and restaurant kitchens. They got the "star treatment" in terms of attention and affection; vegetables got the supporting roles, if any.
Still, I jumped into the water and, fortunately, just as I was growing up and overcoming my fear, the world of food was also growing up. We have moved forward a fair bit since 2006. Overall, more and more confirmed carnivores, chefs included, are happy to celebrate vegetables, grains, and legumes. They do so for a variety of reasons related to reducing their meat consumption: animal welfare is often quoted, as well as the environment, general sustainability, and health. However, I am convinced there is an even bigger incentive, which relates to my second big fear when I took on the Guardian column: running out of ideas.
It was in only the second week of being the newspaper's vegetarian columnist that I felt the chill up my spine. I suddenly realized that I had only about four ideas up my sleeve—enough for a month—and after that, nothing! My inexperience as a recipe writer led me to think that there was a finite number of vegetarian ideas and that it wouldn't be long before I'd exhausted them.
Not at all! As soon as I opened my eyes, I began discovering a world of ingredients and techniques, dishes and skills that ceaselessly informed me and fed me. And I was not the only one. Many people, initially weary of the limiting nature of the subject matter (we are, after all, never asked in a restaurant how we'd like our cauliflower cooked: medium or medium-well), had started to discover a whole range of cuisines, dishes, and ingredients that make vegetables shine like any bright star.
Just like me, other cooks are finding reassurance in the abundance around them that turns the cooking of vegetables into the real deal. They are becoming more familiar with different varieties of chiles, ways of straining yogurt, new kinds of citrus (like pomelo or yuzu), whole grains and pearled grains, Japanese condiments and North African spice mixes, a vast number of dried pasta shapes, and making their own fresh pasta. They are happy to explore markets and specialty shops or go online to find an unusual dried herb or a particular brand of curry powder. They read cookbooks and watch television programs exploring recent cooking trends or complex baking techniques. The world is their oyster, only a vegetarian one, and it is varied and exciting.
Raw vegetable salad
Certain vegetables—cauliflower, turnip, asparagus, and zucchini are all good examples—are hardly ever eaten raw in the UK. When I travel back home to visit my parents, I always enjoy a crunchy salad like this one, where the vegetables of the season are just chopped and thrown into a bowl with a fine vinaigrette. The result is stunning; it properly captures the essence of the season and is why I would make this salad only with fresh, seasonal, top-notch vegetables. This is really crucial. Ditto the dressing: if you can use a good-quality sunflower oil —one that actually tastes of sunflower seeds—it will make a real difference. The best way to cut the asparagus into strips is with a vegetable peeler.
1/3 head cauliflower
(7 oz/200 g), broken
into small florets
7 oz/200 g radishes
(long variety if possible),
thinly sliced lengthwise
6 asparagus spears
(7 oz/200 g), thinly
1 cup/30 g watercress leaves
2/3 cup/100 g fresh or frozen green peas, blanched for
1 minute and refreshed
2/3 cup/20 g basil leaves
scant 2/3 cup/75 g pitted Kalamata olives
1 small shallot, finely chopped (2 tbsp/20 g)
1 tsp mayonnaise
2 tbsp champagne vinegar or good-quality white
1½ tsp Dijon mustard
6 tbsp/90 ml good-quality sunflower oil
salt and black pepper
First make the dressing. Mix together the shallot, mayonnaise, vinegar, mustard, and some salt and pepper in a large bowl. Whisk well as you slowly pour in the oil, along with ¾ teaspoon salt and a good grind of black pepper.
Add all the salad ingredients to the dressing, use your hands to toss everything together gently, and serve.
Excerpted from Plenty More by Yotam Ottolenghi. Copyright © 2014 Yotam Ottolenghi. Excerpted by permission of Random House LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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