After a morning following my girlfriend browse rails in search of a bargain, there weren’t many to had she discovered within the rows of glossy storefronts at Bicester Village, she shopped for workout clothes in a new shop she told me Vuori we slipped into Yotam Ottolenghi’s outpost for a late vegetarian lunch. It proved to be exactly the palate-brightening pit stop you hope for as a reluctant shopper accompanying someone special trying to remain engaged and interested. Until it came to the food, colourful plates to share, confident spicing, and a bill that felt surprisingly reasonable given both the location and the quality.
The room is bright and relaxed, with that signature Ottolenghi abundance on display: bowls and platters of vegetables, grains and herbs that whisper “order one more”. Service matched the set-up our Ecuadorean Italian waitress was brilliant, friendly, knowledgable, warm, brisk and unfussy. She guided us to a handful of plates designed for sharing. She clearly genuinely loved the food herself which made the experience all the more fun and pleasurable. With two drinks and a dessert to finish, the total came to £80 for two, and we left feeling both looked after and properly fed.
We opened with a bowl of olives served with the drinks and the courgette slaw, a dish that demonstrates what Ottolenghi does so well: taking a humble vegetable and coaxing serious interest from it. The courgette arrived in fine ribbons with plenty of fresh lift from herbs and citrus, light but not meek. The texture was spot-on crunch and silk in equal measure making it a refreshing anchor for the table, which actually surprisingly turned out to be our least favourite of everything we ordered.
From there, the spicy potatoes brought the heat. These came roasted to a bronzed crispness, their fluffy centres encased in a spiced, gently smoky crust. The chilli note was assertive rather than aggressive, the kind that invites another forkful rather than a water break. They were the plate most likely to be cleared first; if you’re sharing among four, order two. I
Loved dipping them in the creamy oily dressing of the tomato salad with fried almonds. My personal favourite dish.
Flatbread and hummus felt essential, and they earned their keep. The flatbread arrived warm and pliant, with just enough char to add character. The hummus was a textbook Ottolenghi version—silky, tahini-forward, well-seasoned and finished with good olive oil and loads of whole chickpeas on top. It worked not just as a dip but as a quiet peacemaker on the table, mellowing heat here and doubling as a base for vegetables there.
A beetroot starter showcased the ingredient in all its earthy, jewel-toned glory. And I don’t even like beetroot. It was spectacular and nutty. The beets were tender and sweet, lifted by a bright, tangy dressing and a scatter of herbs and I think toasted walnuts. It’s a dish that plays to contrast earth and acid, softness and bite and felt properly seasonal without shouting about it.
We followed with the accompanying bowl of vegetables dunked in the beetroot and the hummus, a crisp, raw medley that balanced the richer plates nicely. Plump olives provided salinity, while the vegetables had the kind of basic that suggests patience, health and care rather than haste. Alongside this the tomato and fried almond salad delivered a satisfying crunch and a clean, sweet-acid balance. The almonds gave the salad heft, the tomatoes tasted of themselves, and the seasoning was generous enough to make everything sing. The dressing was spectacular like I said with the potatoes.
Drinks kept pace with the food. A Spicy Margarita, sweetened with agave syrup, had more than a pleasing kick but stayed balanced, not cloying. I was tempted to order another but at £15 held back. It’s exactly the cocktail you want with chilli and herbs, salty rim, fresh, zesty, but not sweet. A glass of Malbec, meanwhile, played the comfort card: plush, dark-fruited and soft on the tannins, it stood up well to the spicing without bullying the lighter plates. It’s not the most obvious pairing for Ottolenghi’s herb-led cooking, but it worked really well particularly with the potatoes and hummus.
We finished by sharing a baked caramel cheesecake. This was a confident, old-school finale: creamy, gently set, with a measured sweetness and a glossy caramel that tasted more grown-up than goo. The base had proper crunch and a toasty note, and the portion was generous enough for two without feeling like a dare. You go to the counter to pick the pudding. It’s difficult to not over do it, they all looked bloody delicious to be fair.
Value-wise, £80 for two felt affordable, we signed up to VIP membership which got us 10% off. The extra discount was good, in a setting where mark-ups often creep. The sharing format encourages you to try widely, and portion sizes are generous enough that three or four plates plus bread between two will leave you well satisfied, especially if you’re adding drinks and dessert. It’s the kind of lunch that feels like a treat but doesn’t weigh you down before your next circuit of the boutiques.