How I Met Yotam Ottolenghi

Okay, before you get too excited and jealous, I really didn’t meet Yotam. But I thought I did. For about 30 seconds.

My husband and I were visiting my London-living daughter last month, and because her time there is coming to an end, I knew we had to go to an Ottolenghi restaurant. So I made lunch reservations at Nopi, in Soho.

As we’re being led to our table, I see him. A handsome, Israeli-looking man. With glasses. He’s tall, and handsome. Did I mention that?

Since I’m such a geeky, chef stalker fan, I immediately shake his hand and tell him it’s nice to meet him. So dumb.

By the time this picture is taken, we all know the truth, and he’s cracking jokes about selling us his signature. Thankfully, this restaurant manager had a great sense of humor.

But there is a similarity, isn’t there? (not really) Of course, Mr. Ottolenghi is somewhat older, with some greying, but I was just too quick, because I have coincidentally met chefs at their restaurants before, so it could happen again, right?

Throughout lunch, the real Mr. Ottolenghi was staring at me from his book cover behind my husband’s head. Taunting me.

If you’re wondering about the layout, we sat in the basement at one of the two communal dining tables. Thankfully, it was very cool in the room; London was a piercing 85 degrees outside that day in July.

Here’s the other table:

In any case, I wanted to write about Nopi, because it was a vibrant foodie experience. I’m probably the only food blogger who doesn’t own Jerusalem, but I’ll have to buy it after this experience. The only way our lunch could have been better is if the real Yotam had been there… chatting with me.

The menu was very exciting. I don’t know if you can read it, but you can check out Ottolenghi.co/UK for more information on his restaurants and updated menus.

There were four of us for lunch. My daughter, left, brought her lovely Yorkshire-bred friend and co-worker along. It was like lunching with Julie Andrews. (Obviously, my linguistic skills equal my face recognition skills.)

We each began with a starter. Mine involved scallops and pork belly, a polenta chip, with an apple-yuzu sauce. Fabulous, needless to say.

The young ladies got passion fruit juice, although they later switched to wine. I love lunches in London.

We were served some complimentary veggies, in a delicious carrot sauce. I could have simply eaten these vegetables for lunch, they were so perfectly prepared and vibrant. Except for the beets, which were rock hard.

For our main meal, we all picked lovely plates, including the popular courgettes and manouri fritters. Incredible. I opted for a couple of Aperol spritzers, to cool myself down, of course. But not at the same time.

A lovely lunch indeed, in spite of the absence of Mr. Ottonlenghi. The look-alike manager said that this has happened before, but I still think that the kitchen staff had gotten quite a big kick out of the mis-identification on my part. They were quite accommodating to let me take their photo!

Nopi was everything I hoped it would be. If you’re in London, stop by for lunch or dinner. You won’t regret it.