The Spiced Potatoes Dinner Yotam Ottolenghi Can’t Wait to Eat in Front of the TV – The New York Times


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These spiced potatoes are like deconstructed loaded fries, the perfect easy meal for a cozy night on the couch.

My children often try to negotiate for “sofa nights.”
“Can we eat in front of the TV?” they ask, as if they’re requesting something transgressive, and, most of the time, they hear a resounding no. I am selfish like that: Sitting around the table with them is the best part of my day.
On the occasions I do say yes, it’s usually because I don’t want to sit upright making conversation, either. Sometimes, we all just want to sink into cushions and not think for an hour.
Growing up in Jerusalem, we didn’t really eat in front of the television. The few times we did, when something special was on (the Summer Olympics and the Eurovision Song Contest come to mind), were magical in their own way.
It was all very different from the American conception of TV dinners. Those segmented aluminum trays from the 1950s were designed to eliminate cooking — they were compartmentalized, reheatable, engineered for minimum disruption. Salisbury steak in one section, mashed potatoes in another, peas in their designated corner.
Dinner in front of the telly is something else entirely. You’ve actually made food and then chosen to eat it somewhere that’s not the table. It’s not necessarily about convenience; it’s about accepting that sometimes, after you’ve done the work, the sofa is exactly where you want to be. I hope my children don’t read this, but, when I’m alone, there’s something genuinely wonderful about eating on the sofa. No conversation to maintain, no modeling good behavior, just you and the food and whatever is onscreen.
The thing is: Most foods don’t actually work for it.
You need something you can eat without your full attention, and without sauce dripping all over the cushions. Knife-and-fork dishes fail. Anything requiring cutting is out. This is why chips endure, why popcorn works. You can eat them one-handed and absent-mindedly.
Loaded fries come to mind. They’re exactly what I want to eat on the sofa right now — rich, warm, satisfying — and exactly what doesn’t work there.
Whether poutine in Canada, disco fries in American diners or cheesy chips in British pubs, the architecture stays consistent: crispy potatoes, something rich on top, gloriously messy. Fried potatoes invite this treatment — they provide both structure and neutrality; they’re substantial enough to be a meal but bland enough to carry stronger flavors. They’re cheap and filling, the kind of thing that is eaten standing up, late at night, often communally. That is probably why every culture with access to potatoes has figured out some version of loading them up with whatever’s rich and local.
And that’s fine at a table but less ideal when the lights are off and you’re three episodes into something. So how do you capture the spirit of loaded fries in a format that actually works?
Keep everything that makes them appealing — the crispy potatoes, the spices, the creamy element — but change the architecture. Instead of drizzling yogurt over the top where it makes everything soggy and requires a fork, keep it on the side. Dip, don’t drizzle.
These potatoes and Jerusalem artichokes roast together until their edges turn golden. The dukkah-style spice mixture, made up of sesame seeds, coriander and cumin, is stirred through while everything’s still hot. The yogurt, finished with olive oil, stays in its own bowl — cool, smooth, ready when you need it.
It’s a small structural adjustment that changes everything. You can eat in near darkness without sauce running down your wrist. One hand stays free for the remote, or for just resting on the arm of the sofa.
My children will eventually figure out the appeal of this. For now, I’ll take the rare sofa night.
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Yotam Ottolenghi is a writer and the chef-owner of the Ottolenghi restaurants, Nopi and Rovi, in London. He is an Eat columnist for The New York Times Magazine and writes a weekly column for The Guardian’s Feast Magazine.
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