Crisp-fried brinjal and potato slices layered with a rich gravy of tomatoes, fresh fenugreek (methi) and ground peanuts, tempered with mustard, cumin and asafoetida, and baked. Serve hot with naan or paratha.
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Harissa is Tunisia's essential condiment, made in every household from the dried red chillies of Nabeul and Cap Bon, which are hung in strings on house walls in late summer to dry. It goes into lablabi, brik, kafteji, couscous and soups, and is spread on bread with olive oil as a snack. Homemade harissa is brighter and less salty than the tubes. Chef's tip: toast the caraway and coriander seeds only until they smell warm; burnt seeds make the paste bitter.
Borshch is the soup Ukrainians measure every kitchen by: a deep ruby pot of beetroot, cabbage, potato and beans, soured just enough and finished with garlic and dill. Every region argues for its own version, from Poltava's with beans to Kyiv's with apples, and in 2022 the cooking of Ukrainian borshch was added to UNESCO's list of culture in need of urgent safeguarding. Traditionally it is simmered on a pork or beef bone stock; this version uses a well-seasoned vegetable stock and white beans, which is how many families cook it during Lent anyway. Serve it hot with a spoon of sour cream and garlic pampushky, and know that it tastes even better the next day. Chef's tip: fry the grated beetroot with a splash of vinegar before it goes into the pot; the acid fixes the red colour, so the soup stays bright instead of fading to brown.
Sydney and Wellington both claim the flat white, first poured in their cafés in the mid-1980s, and today it's the everyday coffee across Australia and New Zealand, from Melbourne's laneway cafés to a beach kiosk in Raglan. It's smaller and stronger than a latte: a double shot of espresso topped with milk steamed to a smooth, glossy microfoam with only a thin layer of froth on top, so the coffee stays at the front. It's velvety, rich and sweet-tasting without sugar. For a vegan version, use a barista-style oat milk. Chef's tip: stretch the milk only for the first few seconds, then sink the wand and let it spin; you want paint-like milk, not a hat of stiff foam.
In Seoul, bulgogi restaurants still cook it on a domed grill set into the table, with a moat around the edge that catches the sweet juices for spooning over rice. At home it is made in a hot pan, and it is a favourite for family dinners, lunch boxes and birthday tables. Grated Asian pear softens the meat and adds a gentle sweetness to the soy and garlic. Wrap it in lettuce with a little ssamjang, or eat it over rice. Chef's tip: put the beef in the freezer for 30 minutes before slicing; firm meat cuts into wafer-thin slices easily.
Okinawa soba has nothing to do with buckwheat: the noodles are thick, chewy and made from wheat, and the dish is the islands' everyday lunch. Small soba shops all over Okinawa serve it in a clear, gentle broth of pork and bonito, and the soki version is crowned with spare ribs braised so long that even the cartilage turns soft. Slices of fishcake, spring onions and red pickled ginger finish the bowl, and every table has a bottle of chilli steeped in awamori to splash on. October 17 is Okinawa Soba Day on the islands. Chef's tip: braise the ribs a day ahead; cold, the fat sets on top of the cooking liquid and lifts off in one piece, and the broth is cleaner for it.
Kagoshima, at the southern tip of Kyushu, is known across Japan for kurobuta, black Berkshire pork raised on farms in the prefecture. The meat is sweet with soft, clean-tasting fat, and shabu-shabu restaurants in Kagoshima city serve it sliced paper-thin so diners can cook it themselves at the table. Any thinly sliced pork loin or belly works well at home; Asian grocers sell it frozen for hot pots. Each slice is swished through the simmering kombu broth, then dipped in tangy ponzu or creamy sesame sauce. Chef's tip: when the meat is finished, cook a handful of rice or noodles in the leftover broth; it has taken on all the flavour of the pork and vegetables.
Kumamoto's ramen grew from the same Kyushu pork-bone tradition as Hakata's, but it took its own road. The broth blends pork bones with chicken for a rounder, milder soup, the noodles are thicker and firmer, and every bowl is finished with mayu, a black oil made by slowly burning garlic, plus a handful of crisp fried garlic chips. Ramen shops around Kumamoto city and its castle serve it with chashu, wood ear mushroom and a seasoned egg. This version is a long weekend project, but the mayu and the chashu can be made a day ahead. Chef's tip: make the mayu over low heat and keep stirring; the garlic must go slowly from gold to brown to black, which takes about 15 minutes.
Australians and New Zealanders have argued for a century over who invented pavlova, named after the Russian ballerina Anna Pavlova after her tours of both countries in the 1920s; both make it for Christmas lunch in the height of summer. A good pav has a thin, crisp shell that cracks under the knife and a soft, marshmallowy centre, piled with whipped cream and the sharp fruit of the season, above all passionfruit, kiwifruit and strawberries. Chef's tip: add the sugar one spoon at a time and keep whisking until you can't feel any grains when you rub a little meringue between your fingers.
Stoemp (from the Brussels dialect word for 'to mash') is what Brussels brasseries such as those around the Marolles serve on cold days: potatoes crushed together with whatever vegetable is in season, rich with butter and nutmeg. Unlike Dutch stamppot, the vegetables are usually cooked separately and softened in butter first, which gives a sweeter, silkier mash. Leek and spinach is one of the most popular versions in Brussels, and a fried egg with a runny yolk on top turns it into supper. The meat versions come with sausages; this is meat-free. Chef's tip: cook the leeks slowly in butter until they almost melt; quick-fried leeks stay stringy and squeaky in the mash.
Gołąbki, little doves, are cabbage leaves rolled around a filling and baked in sauce, and they turn up at name-day parties, weddings and Sunday dinners all over Poland. The best-known filling is pork and rice, but in the east, around Lublin and Podlasie, gołąbki filled with kasza gryczana (toasted buckwheat) and mushrooms are an old meatless version, often made for Christmas Eve and Lent. This one is fully plant-based: nutty buckwheat, fried onion and mushrooms, wrapped in soft cabbage and baked in a sweet-sour tomato sauce. They taste even better reheated the next day. Chef's tip: shave down the thick central rib of each leaf with a small knife; it lets the leaf roll tightly without cracking.
In Liège, in French-speaking Wallonia, the waffle is not a light batter but a rich yeasted dough studded with pearl sugar, eaten warm from a paper sleeve as you walk down the street. As it cooks in a deep-grid iron, the sugar nuggets melt and caramelise into a crackling, toffee-like crust, while the inside stays soft and chewy like brioche. Belgians eat them plain, any time of day, not loaded with cream (that is the lighter Brussels waffle). Chef's tip: knead the pearl sugar in only at the very end, after the dough has risen; if it goes in earlier, it dissolves and the waffles lose their crunch.
Sausage rolls are the snack of Australian bakeries, school canteens and footy grounds, eaten from a paper bag with a squeeze of tomato sauce, and they're on the table at every kids' party from Perth to Hobart, and across the Tasman too. This vegetarian version wraps crisp, buttery puff pastry around a savoury filling of browned mushrooms, lentils, carrot, cheddar and sage, firm enough to slice and with the peppery, herby taste of a good bakery roll. The meat original uses raw seasoned pork or beef mince in place of the filling, as noted in the steps. Chef's tip: cook the mushrooms until they are dry and browned; any leftover liquid will turn the pastry soggy from the inside.
When wild bilberries ripen in the pine forests of Podlasie and Masuria in July, roadside sellers appear with jars of them and half of Poland makes pierogi z jagodami for lunch. The dumplings are boiled, so the berries burst into a hot, purple, jammy filling inside a soft dough, and they are eaten with cold sweetened soured cream and a dusting of sugar. Cultivated blueberries work well; frozen wild bilberries are closer to the original. Chef's tip: toss the berries with potato starch, but add the sugar only on top when you serve; sugared berries weep juice, and that juice is what makes the pierogi burst.
On Wigilia, the meatless Christmas Eve supper, almost every Polish family puts out a plate of pierogi z kapustą i grzybami, sour cabbage and forest mushroom dumplings. The filling is dark and savoury: sauerkraut simmered until soft, then chopped with dried ceps or bay boletes gathered in autumn and onion fried in oil, so the whole dish is plant-based and fits the old fasting rules of the evening. In Kraków and the south they are boiled; in many homes the leftovers are fried crisp on 25 December. Chef's tip: save the mushroom soaking water; a few spoons of it in the filling give far more depth than any stock cube.
Malva pudding is a South African classic with roots in the Cape, served warm after Sunday lunch and at almost every South African restaurant with a pudding menu. A light, caramelised sponge made with apricot jam and a dash of vinegar is baked, then drenched while hot with a buttery cream sauce that it drinks up completely, so it ends up sticky, spongy and toffee-like. It is eaten with custard or vanilla ice cream. Chef's tip: pour the sauce over the pudding the moment it comes out of the oven and give it time to soak in; a cold pudding won't absorb it.
In the Valais, the vineyard-and-glacier canton along the upper Rhône, raclette began as a herders' meal: half a wheel of cheese propped beside an open fire, the melting face scraped (racler) onto a plate of potatoes. Today Valais families and village festivals still serve it the slow way, one plate at a time, while at home most people use a tabletop grill with small pans. The cheese is soft and pungent from the wheel and turns sweet and nutty as it bubbles, set off by sharp cornichons and little pickled onions. A proper Valais raclette needs nothing else: no charcuterie, just potatoes, pickles, pepper and a glass of Fendant or hot tea. Raclette cheese is usually made with animal rennet; choose a wheel or slices labelled with microbial or vegetarian rennet. Chef's tip: keep the potatoes hot in a covered basket wrapped in a cloth, so each scoop of cheese lands on a steaming potato and stays runny.
Akara is fried at dawn on street corners across south-west Nigeria, where it is bought hot in paper and eaten with soft agege bread, or dunked into a bowl of warm ogi (fermented corn porridge). It is made from nothing but peeled beans, onion, chilli and salt, whipped until airy, then dropped into hot oil, so the outside turns crisp and craggy while the inside stays soft and light. It is a weekend breakfast at home too, often with custard or pap. Chef's tip: beat the blended bean paste hard for a few minutes before frying; the trapped air is what makes akara puff instead of turning heavy and oily.
Nigerian fried rice sits next to jollof at nearly every party buffet from Abuja to Port Harcourt, its pale yellow colour and confetti of vegetables making the two a classic pair on one plate. It owes nothing to Chinese fried rice: the grains are first boiled in stock with curry powder and thyme, then tossed in a hot pan with small diced vegetables. Party versions often hide liver or prawns; this one stays fully vegetable and serves well with fried plantain, moi moi or a spicy pepper sauce. Chef's tip: cut every vegetable to the size of a pea so they cook in the same couple of minutes and each spoonful gets a bit of everything.
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