Sticky rice with coconut sugar
At morning markets across Central and East Java, vendors unwrap banana-leaf triangles of chewy sticky rice, roll them in fresh grated coconut and drench them in dark palm sugar syrup, all served on a square of leaf. Lupis is breakfast and snack at once, eaten with sweet tea. The common mistake is packing the leaves too full: the rice swells as it cooks, so fill each cone only two-thirds, or the parcels split and turn watery. Chef's tip: steam the grated coconut with a pinch of salt for 5 minutes before using it; it keeps longer and the salt sharpens the caramel taste of the syrup.
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Sukumawiki (collard greens) finely chopped and cooked quickly with cumin, onion, tomato and a little turmeric, chilli and coriander-cumin powder until just tender. Its name means 'push the week', because it's cheap enough to stretch the budget to the end of the week. Serve hot with ugali.
Česnečka is the soup Czechs swear by after a long night in a Prague pivnice: a thin, savoury broth fragrant with raw garlic, caraway and marjoram, with soft potato cubes, crunchy fried bread and a fistful of grated cheese melting into each bowl. It costs almost nothing, comes together in half an hour and is served in workers' canteens and village pubs all winter. This version uses vegetable stock instead of the old meat bouillon. Chef's tip: crush the garlic into the bowls or add it right at the end off the heat; boiled garlic goes sweet and mild, and česnečka should bite.
Xalwo is the sweet of Somali celebrations: weddings, Eid and the arrival of guests are all marked with a tray of this dark, glossy, chewy confection, cut into diamonds and served with coffee or spiced tea. Sugar is caramelised, then cooked slowly with cornflour and oil or ghee while the cook stirs without stopping until it pulls away from the pan. It is a cousin of Omani and Yemeni halwa. Chef's tip: stir constantly and keep going until the oil starts to separate and shine on the surface; stopped early, xalwo stays soft and does not set.
All over Korea, small lunch restaurants bring sundubu jjigae to the table still boiling in a black stone pot, with a raw egg on the side to crack in while it bubbles. The stew is built on very soft, unpressed tofu, which breaks into creamy curds in a red, chilli-oil broth. Seafood and pork go in together here, though you can use just one. Have it with a bowl of rice and some kimchi; it's especially welcome on a cold day. Chef's tip: fry the chilli flakes gently in oil with the pork and garlic before adding liquid; this red chilli oil gives the stew its colour and a deep, rounded heat.
In the misty tea country around Nuwara Eliya, Hatton and Ella, and in every roadside tea kade across Sri Lanka, tea is made strong, sweetened generously and often whitened with milk, then poured from a height between two jugs so it cools a little and wears a frothy cap. Families drink it first thing, again at 'tea time' around four, and with every short eats snack in between. Unlike Indian masala chai there are no spices: the flavour comes from bright, brisk high-grown Ceylon black tea, often a BOP or BOPF grade. If you'd rather have it plain, kahata thé is the same tea with no milk and a bite of jaggery. The common mistake is stewing the leaves too long, which turns it bitter and tannic; three to four minutes is plenty. Chef's tip: pour from jug to jug four or five times; the 'pulled' tea is smoother and creamier.
On a sweltering afternoon in Melaka, the queue snakes out of the cendol shops on Jonker Street: a bowl of shaved ice drenched in salted coconut milk and smoky, dark gula Melaka syrup, hiding soft green jelly 'worms' made from rice flour and pandan, with red beans at the bottom. It's sweet, salty, creamy and cold all at once, and it's the city's signature dessert. Melaka's own gula Melaka is the key; it should smell of caramel and woodsmoke. Chef's tip: a pinch of salt in the coconut milk makes the palm sugar taste deeper; without it the bowl tastes flat.
Cazuela is the soup Chilean grandmothers make all through winter, from Santiago's Central Valley to the farms of the south: each bowl gets a whole piece of beef on the bone, a whole potato, a wedge of pumpkin and a piece of corn in a clear broth, with a little rice or green beans and plenty of fresh coriander. It is eaten as a full meal, with pebre and bread. The mistake is cutting the vegetables small: they should stay in big pieces, one of each per person. Chef's tip: simmer the beef very gently and skim it well so the broth stays clear.
Aloo keema is the dinner that turns up in Pakistani homes from Karachi to Peshawar several times a month: quick, cheap, and loved by children and grandparents alike. Mince is browned with onion, tomato and whole spices, then simmered with potato cubes and peas until the potatoes soak up the masala. It is usually eaten with hot chapati or paratha, and leftovers become a filling for sandwiches and samosas the next day. Chef's tip: keep frying the mince until all the water it releases has gone and it starts to sizzle; that's where the browned, meaty flavour comes from.
Causa limeña is Lima's cold potato terrine: yellow potatoes mashed with lime, oil and ají amarillo, pressed into layers and filled. In Lima it is a lunchtime starter sold in every menú and at every family party, often with tuna or chicken; this vegetarian causa is filled with ripe avocado and a creamy salad of corn, peas and carrot. The potato should be smooth, sunny yellow, tangy and gently hot, and the whole thing is served cold in neat slices. Make it in the morning for dinner, or the day before for a party. Chef's tip: mash the potatoes while warm but add the lime only once they have cooled; lime on hot potato turns the mash grey and gluey.
In Rome supplì are bought from pizza-by-the-slice shops and friggitorie and eaten standing up, wrapped in paper, before the pizza arrives. Unlike Sicilian arancini they are oval and the rice is cooked in tomato sauce, so the inside is orange-red; when you bite one in half, the mozzarella stretches into a long 'telephone cord', which is where the nickname al telefono comes from. Roman bars usually add meat ragù; this version keeps it vegetarian with a basil-scented tomato rice. Chef's tip: cook the rice a day ahead and chill it in a thin layer; cold, firm rice shapes neatly and does not split in the oil.
Tinga comes from Puebla, where shredded meat is simmered in a sauce of sweet sliced onion, tomato and smoky chipotle chillies and piled onto tostadas or tacos. Here roasted cauliflower takes the place of the chicken: browned in a hot oven so it turns nutty and holds its shape, then folded through the brick-red sauce so every floret is glossy and smoky. The result, tinga de coliflor, is sweet, tangy and properly spicy; serve it in warm corn tortillas or on crisp tostadas with avocado, shredded lettuce and lime. Chef's tip: cook the onions slowly until soft and sweet before the tomatoes go in; the sweetness is what balances the heat of the chipotle.
Suqaar is the quick beef dish found everywhere from Mogadishu tea shops to Somali cafés in Minneapolis and London: small cubes of beef or lamb browned with onion, peppers and garlic, seasoned with xawaash, the house spice mix of cumin, coriander, cardamom, cinnamon and turmeric. Somalis eat it for breakfast with canjeero (spongy flatbread) or for lunch with rice or pasta. The mistake is cutting the beef in big chunks, which go chewy; cut it into small 1–2 cm cubes so it cooks fast and stays tender. Chef's tip: add a squeeze of lime and a handful of coriander just before serving.
Vatha kuzhambu is what a Tamil kitchen cooks when the vegetable basket is empty: tamarind, sambar powder and a handful of sun-dried sundakkai or manathakkali berries fried crisp in sesame oil. It simmers down to a glossy, almost black gravy that is sour, a little bitter, hot and faintly sweet, and it keeps for days, so it travels in tiffin carriers and turns up at Brahmin home lunches all over Thanjavur and Chennai. Mix a spoonful into hot rice with a little sesame oil, and eat it with a plain poriyal or appalam to calm the heat. Chef's tip: fry the dried berries in the oil first and lift them out the moment they puff and darken; added at the end they stay crisp and bitter-nutty instead of turning leathery.
Cataplana is the Algarve's showpiece, named after the hinged, clam-shaped copper pan it is cooked in, and it is served at the table in harbour towns like Olhão and Portimão, lid opened in a puff of steam. This version contains pork: smoky chouriço sausage goes in with the onion, peppers and tomato, then clams, prawns and firm white fish steam on top in their own juices. Bring bread for the broth. No cataplana? A wide casserole with a tight lid works. Chef's tip: purge the clams in salty water in the fridge for an hour so they spit out their sand before cooking.
Cassoulet is the great winter feast of the Languedoc, and the towns of Castelnaudary, Carcassonne and Toulouse still argue over who makes it best. Contains pork: white beans cook with pork rind and belly, then bake for hours with duck confit and garlicky Toulouse sausages in a deep earthenware dish until a dark crust forms on top. It takes two days at a relaxed pace and feeds a crowd. Serve with nothing more than a green salad. Chef's tip: break the crust and push it under several times while it bakes; each new crust adds flavour and body.
Walk into any soda (small family diner) in San José at lunchtime and the board will offer a casado: one plate where rice and beans are 'married' to salad, sweet plantain and a main. The meatless version is just as common, with a fried egg and a slice of fresh white cheese, plus a little picadillo of chopped vegetables. It's a full, balanced lunch, and every element is simple. Chef's tip: cook the plantain only when it's deeply black-skinned and soft; ripe plantain caramelises to sticky dark edges, green plantain just goes dry.
Despite the name, this surf-and-turf dish of pork and clams is most often linked with the Algarve coast, where Alentejo pork met local shellfish; today it is served in tascas all over Portugal, especially for Sunday lunch. It is a pork dish: cubes of pork shoulder marinate in massa de pimentão (sweet red pepper paste), garlic and traditionally white wine, then are fried and tossed with steamed clams, crisp potato cubes, pickles and lots of coriander. For an alcohol-free version, swap the wine for chicken stock with a tablespoon of white wine vinegar. Chef's tip: buy the pork with a little fat on; lean loin turns dry and tough when fried.
Carimañolas are torpedo-shaped fritters of mashed yuca filled with savoury minced beef, a breakfast and party snack in Panama City and along the Caribbean coast in Colón, often eaten with a cup of coffee or a spoon of hot sauce. The yuca dough is soft and smooth, the outside crisp after frying. The mistake is working the yuca dough while it is cold; mash and shape it while still warm, when it is smooth and pliable. Chef's tip: wet your hands with a little oil or water as you shape them so the dough doesn't stick.
In Réunion a cari is any stew cooked with turmeric (called "safran" on the island), garlic, ginger, onion, tomato and thyme, and cari poulet is the dish families cook on Sundays in Saint-Denis and the mountain villages, often in a big cast-iron pot over a wood fire. It is served with white rice, red beans or lentils, and a fiery rougail on the side. The mistake is adding water too early: let the chicken brown and the tomatoes melt first, then add only a little. Chef's tip: thyme is essential in Réunionnais cooking; add it whole and fish it out before serving.
Every spring, from February to April, Roman market stalls pile up round, thornless romanesco artichokes (cimaroli), and trattorie serve them alla romana: stuffed with wild mint, parsley and garlic and braised stem-up in oil and water until meltingly soft. They are eaten warm or at room temperature as a contorno, often next to their crisp cousins, carciofi alla giudia. Any large globe artichoke works at home. Chef's tip: braise them upside down, stems in the air and tightly packed, so the hearts sit in the liquid and the stems steam to the same tenderness.
Locho is a breakfast street snack from Surat in Gujarat. The story goes that a batch of khaman went wrong and came out soft and mushy, and people liked it so much it became a dish of its own; 'locho' means a muddle. A fermented batter of chana dal is steamed until just set and scooped out in soft, spoonable heaps, then drizzled with oil and showered with a spicy locho masala, raw onion, coriander and sev. It's eaten hot with green chutney and a sweet-sour tamarind sauce. Chef's tip: steam it in a shallow layer and take it off as soon as a knife comes out sticky but not wet; locho should be just set and wobbly, and over-steamed it turns into a dull khaman.
Every December and January, farms around Surat roast bundles of young green jowar heads over embers and thresh out ponk, soft, sweet, pale-green grains that last only a few weeks. Surtis turn the trip into a picnic, eating ponk by the handful with lemon-pepper sev and garlic chutney, then frying the leftovers into these crunchy vada. The grains are crushed coarsely with chilli and ginger, bound with a little gram and rice flour, and fried until the outside is lacy and crisp while the inside stays tender and grassy-sweet. Look for frozen ponk in Gujarati grocers outside the season. Chef's tip: crush the ponk only roughly; whole grains popping through the crust is what makes these vada special.
Ask anyone from Kumaon what they miss most from home and aloo ke gutke comes up quickly. Hill potatoes are boiled, cut into rough chunks and tossed in smoking mustard oil with jakhiya, a tiny wild seed that pops and crunches like mustard but tastes more like toasted cumin. It's served at tea time with a mug of chai, on festival plates next to puri, and in local dhabas with cucumber raita. Outside Uttarakhand jakhiya is hard to find, so use cumin seeds with a few black mustard seeds instead; the dish will still taste right. Chef's tip: boil the potatoes a few hours ahead, or the night before, so they firm up and fry into crisp-edged cubes instead of crumbling.
Suspiro a la limeña, 'the sigh of a Lima woman', is the city's grand dessert from colonial times, said to have been named by the poet José Gálvez for its sweetness. A thick manjar blanco, milk slowly cooked down to a silky caramel cream and enriched with egg yolks, is topped with a cloud of glossy Italian meringue flavoured with port and dusted with cinnamon. It is very sweet and very rich, so serve it in small glasses. Make it in the morning for the evening. Chef's tip: the manjar is ready when a spoon dragged across the bottom of the pan leaves a clear path for a moment; undercooked, it stays runny and the meringue sinks into it.
Capuns come from the valleys of Graubünden, where every village in the Surselva and Engadin has its own way of making them, and they are cooked on cold evenings and for festivals in mountain inns. A soft spätzle batter flavoured with herbs and little cubes of air-dried salsiz sausage and bacon is wrapped in chard leaves, then the parcels are poached in a mixture of milk and stock and finished with butter and grated mountain cheese. The salsiz and bacon are pork. Most first attempts fail because the dough is too runny to wrap; it should drop slowly off a spoon, like very thick porridge. Chef's tip: dip the chard leaves into boiling water for just 10 seconds so they turn supple enough to roll without tearing.
Caponata is the agrodolce dish of Sicily: cubes of fried aubergine, crisp celery, green olives and capers in a glossy tomato sauce sharpened with vinegar and softened with a little sugar. Palermo families keep a bowl in the fridge through late summer and eat it at room temperature as an antipasto, a side or on bread, and many say it is best on the second day. The sweet-sour balance shows the Arab influence on Sicilian cooking. Chef's tip: blanch the celery for 2 minutes before frying; it keeps a pleasant crunch without tasting raw.
Suwon, south of Seoul in Gyeonggi province, once had one of the largest cattle markets in Korea, and its galbi houses grew up around that trade. The city's style is unusual: the long, butterflied short ribs are seasoned mainly with salt, garlic and sesame oil rather than the soy marinade most people know. Families and office groups grill them at the table over charcoal, snip them into pieces with scissors and wrap each bite in lettuce with ssamjang and raw garlic. At home a ridged griddle pan or a barbecue does the job well. Chef's tip: score the opened-out meat lightly in a criss-cross pattern on both sides, so the salt seasoning soaks in and the ribbon of meat stays flat on the grill.
Suya comes from the Hausa north, from Kano and Kaduna, but now every Nigerian city has a mai suya grilling beef over charcoal by the roadside once the sun goes down. Thin slices of beef are threaded onto skewers, rubbed with yaji, a fiery mix of roasted peanut powder, chilli, ginger and stock spices, and grilled until charred at the edges. It comes wrapped in newspaper with sliced raw onion, tomato and extra yaji for dipping. The common mistake is cutting the beef thick; it needs to be thin enough to see light through, so it cooks fast and stays tender. Chef's tip: put the beef in the freezer for 30 minutes first, and it will slice wafer thin with ease.
Koesisters are Cape Town's Sunday-morning ritual: in the Bo-Kaap and on the Cape Flats, families buy or make a batch to eat with tea after the week's work is done. They are nothing like the plaited, crunchy Afrikaner koeksister. These are soft, cake-like, oval dumplings flavoured with cinnamon, cardamom, ginger, aniseed and naartjie (tangerine) zest, fried, briefly boiled in a thin syrup and rolled in desiccated coconut. Chef's tip: fry them over a moderate heat so they cook through to a fluffy centre before the outside turns dark; they should be a rich brown, not black.
You will really only find proper cao lầu in Hội An, the old trading port on Vietnam's central coast, where it's sold in small family eateries and along the riverside at lunch. The noodles are yellowish and unusually chewy, made with lye water that locals traditionally link to the town's ancient Bá Lễ well. They come almost dry, topped with slices of sweet five-spice pork, raw greens and crisp squares of fried dough, with just a spoonful of the pork juices. Because the real noodles are very hard to buy outside Hội An, this home version uses thick udon noodles, which give a similar bouncy chew; it is a substitute, not the original. Chef's tip: rinse the cooked udon in cold water, then dip briefly in hot water just before serving, so they are warm but firm.
Shchi is the oldest soup in Russian cooking, the one the proverb pairs with porridge: 'shchi da kasha, pishcha nasha' (shchi and kasha, that's our food). In villages from Vologda to Ryazan it was left to mellow in the warmth of the big masonry stove, and in summer and early autumn it is made with fresh young cabbage rather than the sour winter version. Unlike Ukrainian kapusniak there is no sauerkraut or millet here: just sweet cabbage, root vegetables, tomato, bay and dill, with a cold spoon of smetana stirred into each bowl. Chef's tip: shchi tastes better the next day, so make it a day ahead and reheat gently.
Svíčková is the dish Czech families make for weddings, name days and big Sunday lunches, and in Prague pubs it appears on the menu as the proud centre of the week. Beef is marinated for a day or two with root vegetables and spices, slow-roasted, and the vegetables are then blended into a smooth, sweet-sour cream sauce. It is always served the same way: sliced beef, a pool of sauce, bread dumplings, a spoonful of cranberry sauce, a twist of whipped cream and a slice of lemon. Many cooks under-season the sauce; it should taste clearly of vinegar, sugar and allspice, not just cream. The optional smoked bacon that flavours the vegetables is pork; leave it out and the sauce is still rich. Chef's tip: blend the sauce until completely velvety, then push it through a sieve; that silky finish is what makes svíčková special.
Cantucci, also called biscotti di Prato, are the hard almond biscuits of Prato, near Florence, where bakeries have sold them since the 1800s. The dough is shaped into logs, baked, sliced on the diagonal and baked again until crisp and golden, so they keep for weeks. In Tuscany they end a meal dipped in a small glass of Vin Santo; with coffee works just as well. The traditional recipe has no butter or oil, only eggs, sugar, flour and whole almonds. Chef's tip: slice the logs while still warm with a serrated knife and a firm sawing motion; once cold, they crumble.
Cannoli were once a Carnival treat in Palermo; now Sicilian pastry shops fill them all year, piping the sweet sheep's-milk ricotta cream into the crisp, bubbly shells only when you order, so they never go soft. The ends are dipped in chopped pistachios, candied orange or chocolate chips. Traditional shells are fried with lard; this version uses butter in the dough and sunflower oil to fry. You need metal cannoli tubes. Chef's tip: drain the ricotta overnight and push it through a sieve; it makes a silky cream that holds its shape instead of a runny, grainy filling.
Canjeero (also called laxoox) is Somali breakfast, made fresh each morning in homes and sold in cafés from Mogadishu to Djibouti: thin, spongy pancakes from a soured batter, cooked on one side only so the top is full of tiny holes. Eaten warm, they are drizzled with sesame oil or ghee and sprinkled with sugar, then rolled up with sweet spiced tea; on weekends they come with liver or beans. They are smaller and lighter than Ethiopian injera and made mostly from wheat. Chef's tip: spread the batter in a spiral with the back of the ladle, starting in the middle; that is what makes the thin, even, lacy sheet.
Syrnyky are the Sunday breakfast of Ukrainian childhoods: small, thick pancakes made almost entirely of tvorih, the dry farmer's cheese sold at every market in Odesa and Lviv, held together with an egg and a little flour and fried until golden. Inside they should be soft and creamy, like a baked cheesecake, outside lightly crisp. They are served with sour cream and cherry jam, or honey. Tvorih is made with lactic culture rather than rennet, so it suits vegetarians; dry cottage cheese pressed through a sieve or quark also works. Chef's tip: if your cheese is wet, wrap it in a cloth and press it under a weight for an hour; common mistake is adding extra flour to rescue a wet mixture, which makes syrnyky dense and rubbery.
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