Like a handful of chopped capers to a plate of simply dressed greens, or a few drops of rosewater to a humble compote, a visit to one of Yotam Ottolenghi’s eponymous neighborhood delis can elevate the dreariest London afternoon. Merely gazing at the counter display’s tiered platters is transportive: there are tarts perfumed with date syrup and heather honey, focaccia dusted with Palestinianza’atar, and vibrant salads mingling figs, fava beans, pomegranate seeds and pistachios. The fragrant panor...
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