Mixed vegetable curry
Labra is the vegetable dish of Durga Puja bhog: in community pandals across Bengal it is ladled out beside khichuri and a sweet tomato chutney to hundreds of people sitting in rows. It is a loose jumble of pumpkin, potato, aubergine, radish, sweet potato, raw banana and spinach stalks, cooked with panch phoron and ginger until some pieces melt and others hold. No onion or garlic goes in, because it is temple food. Chef's tip: add the vegetables in order of hardness, so the pumpkin goes soft and sweet while the radish and banana keep their shape.
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A big sizzling griddle of boiled fresh beans and vegetables (peas, pigeon peas, black-eyed beans, soya beans, kidney beans, corn, cassava, sweet potato, baby potatoes and roasted plantain) tossed with sesame seeds, onions and a green chilli, ginger and garlic paste. It's filling, colourful and feeds a crowd at a barbecue. Serve sizzling hot straight from the tawa.
Mandua, or finger millet, is the grain that hill farmers in Uttarakhand have relied on for generations, and its roti is the staple of a pahadi winter kitchen. The rotis come out dark brown, slightly sweet and earthy, and they are eaten hot from the tawa with a spoon of ghee, kafuli or a bowl of chainsoo, sometimes with jaggery on the side. With no gluten to hold it together the dough is fragile, so cooks pat it out between wet palms rather than rolling it. Chef's tip: knead the dough in two small batches with hot water; millet dough dries and cracks quickly, so the second batch stays fresh while you cook the first.
Lamingtons are said to be named after Lord Lamington, Governor of Queensland at the turn of the twentieth century, and they're the cake of Australian school fundraisers, Country Women's Association stalls and morning tea at work; there's even a National Lamington Day on 21 July. Cubes of light butter sponge are dunked in a thin, glossy chocolate icing and rolled in desiccated coconut, so each one has a soft, chocolate-soaked outside and a fluffy middle. Some bakeries split them and fill them with jam and cream. Chef's tip: bake the sponge a day ahead, or freeze the cut squares for an hour; fresh sponge crumbles in the icing, firm sponge dips cleanly.
Cincinnati, Ohio has hundreds of 'chili parlors', a tradition started by Greek-Macedonian immigrants in the 1920s, and their chili is nothing like the Texan kind. Minced beef is simmered (not browned) in water with tomato and a warm spice mix of cinnamon, allspice, clove, cumin and a little cocoa until it becomes a fine, thin sauce. It is ladled over spaghetti and buried in finely grated cheddar: a 'three-way'. Add onions for a four-way, beans for a five-way. Chef's tip: break the raw mince up in cold water before heating; that gives the signature smooth texture.
Henakisoa sy voanjobory is a highland dish from the countryside around Antsirabe and Fianarantsoa, cooked for family gatherings: pork simmered for a long time with Bambara groundnuts, a hard, round pulse that turns creamy and nutty, until the meat is tender and the beans have thickened the sauce. This dish contains pork. It is eaten with rice and a fresh tomato salad. The mistake is not soaking the dried pulses, which then never soften; soak them overnight. Chef's tip: if you can't find Bambara groundnuts, black-eyed beans or borlotti give a similar result in less time.
Shorwa is the everyday soup of Afghan homes from Kabul to Herat, simmered on winter evenings and during Ramadan, when a bowl of it breaks the fast. Lamb on the bone cooks slowly with onion, tomato, chickpeas and a little turmeric and coriander until the broth turns golden, then potatoes and carrots go in for the last half hour. The family tears naan into their bowls and eats it with fresh mint, onion and green chilli on the side. It is a gentle, clear soup rather than a thick stew. The common mistake is boiling it hard, which makes the broth cloudy and the lamb tough; keep it at a lazy simmer. Chef's tip: skim the broth carefully in the first 10 minutes, as soon as the grey foam rises, for a clean golden shorwa.
In Andong, the old Confucian town of North Gyeongsang, the scholars of the yangban class were said to want the food from jesa, the rite offered to ancestors, without waiting for a rite to come round, so they cooked the same dishes and called them heotjesatbap (헛제삿밥), 'fake rite rice'. Restaurants by Andong's dam still serve it: a bowl of rice to be mixed with brown, white and green namul and seasoned with soy sauce, never chilli, because ritual food avoids red pepper and garlic. The full table includes grilled fish and beef skewers; this vegetarian version keeps the vegetables and tofu jeon that make up most of it. Chef's tip: cook each namul separately with only salt, soy or sesame, so each keeps its own taste and colour when you mix the bowl.
Burmese curries are cooked the 'see pyan' way, meaning 'oil returns': onion, garlic and ginger are slowly fried with turmeric and paprika until the water cooks away and the oil floats red and clear on top. This chicken curry is the everyday heart of a Yangon or Mandalay meal, set on the table with rice, a sour soup, a salad and fish-sauce-based relishes, and every family eats it on ordinary weeknights. It is mild in chilli but deep in flavour, with fish sauce adding a savoury edge. The common mistake is draining off the oil because it looks like too much; the oil carries the flavour, and you spoon around it when serving. Chef's tip: pound the onion, garlic and ginger to a rough paste rather than blending them smooth, so they fry rather than stew.
Singapore's Hokkien mee is nothing like the dark, soy-coated noodles of Kuala Lumpur: here yellow egg noodles and thick rice vermicelli are fried with egg, then braised in a cloudy, intensely savoury stock made from prawn heads and shells until the noodles soak it up and stay just wet. Hawkers at Old Airport Road and Geylang serve it with lime and fiery sambal belacan on a square of paper or opeh leaf. It is a late-lunch or supper dish, eaten hot from the wok. Traditional versions use pork belly and pork lard; this one uses prawns and squid only, with vegetable oil. The common mistake is adding all the stock at once, which makes it soupy; add it in two goes and let the noodles drink it. Chef's tip: fry the prawn heads hard until they turn deep orange before adding water; the stock is the whole dish.
If chilli crab is Singapore's sweet crowd-pleaser, black pepper crab is the one locals often order beside it: dry rather than saucy, sharp with freshly cracked black pepper, rich with butter and with a salty edge from oyster and soy sauce. It was created in the 1950s–60s at the seafood restaurants of Upper Serangoon and East Coast, and is eaten at long family dinners with rice or plain bread to mop the buttery wok juices. Note that this dish contains butter, so it is not dairy free. Buy crabs live or freshly cooked the same day from a fishmonger you trust. Discard any live crab that doesn't move, smells of ammonia or has a cracked, leaking shell. The common mistake is using pre-ground pepper powder, which tastes dusty and burns; crack whole peppercorns coarsely. Chef's tip: toast the cracked pepper in the dry wok for a minute before the butter goes in to wake up its aroma.
Hideg meggyleves is a chilled sour cherry soup served as a starter in Hungary at the height of summer, from family lunches in the cherry-growing villages around Pest county to the terraces of Balaton restaurants. Sour cherries simmer briefly with sugar, cinnamon and cloves, then the soup is thickened with sour cream and served icy cold, pink and gently tangy. Some cooks add a splash of red wine for grown-ups. It is eaten before the main course, not as dessert, though no one complains if you have it after. Chef's tip: chill it for at least 3 hours; the flavour rounds out and the spices soften as it cools. A common mistake is boiling it after the cream goes in, which curdles it.
Jambalaya feeds crowds at church fairs and Mardi Gras parties all over south Louisiana, from Baton Rouge to New Orleans. This is the Creole or 'red' style from the city, with tomato in the pot; the Cajun country version leaves it out. Chicken thighs and smoked andouille (a pork sausage) are browned first, then rice cooks in the spiced tomato stock with the holy trinity, and prawns go in at the end. Chef's tip: once the rice is in, resist stirring; just turn it once halfway so the bottom does not catch.
Across Georgia, Tennessee and the Carolinas, a platter of fried chicken still anchors Sunday dinner after church and every summer family reunion. Bone-in pieces soak overnight in salted, peppery buttermilk, which seasons the meat right through and keeps it juicy, then get a craggy flour coat that fries up deep gold and crackly. Serve hot or at room temperature with coleslaw, biscuits, mashed potatoes or corn on the cob. Chef's tip: let the dredged pieces sit on a rack for 15 minutes before frying so the coating turns slightly pasty; it clings better and makes the crunchiest crust.
Walk into any Hong Kong cha chaan teng before 11 am and you'll see bowls of macaroni in clear soup on almost every table, part of the breakfast set with toast and milk tea. The usual version carries strips of ham; at home many families make it with sweetcorn, peas, carrot and a fried egg instead, for a light, comforting bowl that children love. Chef's tip: cook the macaroni separately and add it to the broth at the end, so it stays springy and the soup stays clear.
Hinava is the dish Kadazandusun families set out at Kaamatan, Sabah's harvest festival in May, and on weekend tables in Kota Kinabalu and Penampang. Strips of raw mackerel are soaked in sour lime juice, then tossed with sliced shallots, ginger, red chilli and grated seed of bambangan, a wild mango, which adds a musky tang. The result is sharp, clean and crunchy, with firm, pearly fish. Eat it as a starter or alongside rice and grilled meat. Chef's tip: slice the fish very thinly and evenly so the lime firms each strip the same way, and season with salt only at the end.
In Cape Town's Bo-Kaap, the brightly painted quarter under Signal Hill, Cape Malay families cook this curry for Sunday lunch and for Eid. It is gentler than an Indian curry: fragrant with cinnamon, cardamom, cloves and fennel, sweetened with dried apricots and a spoon of apricot chutney, and soured with a splash of vinegar and tomato. Potatoes simmer in the sauce with the chicken. Serve it with yellow rice (geelrys), sambals and chutney. A common mistake is adding the potatoes too late, so they stay hard in a finished curry; they go in with the chicken. Chef's tip: let the whole spices sizzle in the oil until the cinnamon unfurls before adding the onion, which builds the sweet perfume of the dish.
Lamprais came to Sri Lanka with the Dutch Burgher community, and Colombo's Burgher families still make it for Sunday lunch, christenings and Christmas. Each banana-leaf parcel holds rice cooked in rich stock, a mixed meat curry, little fried meatballs called frikkadels, a hard-boiled egg, aubergine moju and seeni sambol, all baked together until the leaf perfumes everything. The traditional version uses three meats including pork; this home version keeps it to chicken and beef so it is manageable in one day, and the steps still take time. Chef's tip: make the curry and frikkadels the day before; on lamprais day you only cook the rice and wrap.
In Accra and along the Ga coast, kenkey is lunch: balls of fermented corn dough, steamed in dried corn husks, eaten with crisp whole fried fish and a sharp raw pepper sauce. Kenkey takes days to ferment and is sold everywhere ready-made in its husks, so buy it from an African grocer and make the fish and sauce at home. Small whole fish such as tilapia, red snapper or mackerel are scored, seasoned and fried until the skin crackles. The common mistake is moving the fish in the pan too soon; leave it alone until the first side is crisp, or the skin tears and sticks. Chef's tip: dust the fish very lightly with flour after drying it, and it fries crisp without spitting.
Light soup is the everyday soup of southern Ghana, cooked in Accra and Kumasi homes several times a week and served alongside fufu, omo tuo (rice balls) or banku, with each bite dipped in the hot broth. Goat meat is the favourite, though chicken light soup is just as common: use 1.2 kg of bone-in chicken pieces and cut the simmering time to 35 minutes. Tomatoes, onion, ginger and pepper are boiled whole with the meat, then blended and strained back in, so the soup is clear, bright orange and very peppery but never heavy. The usual mistake is skipping the straining step, which leaves the soup gritty with seeds and skins. Chef's tip: steam the goat in its seasoning with no water for the first 15 minutes; the meat flavours the whole soup from the inside.
In winter, the dai pai dong stalls of Temple Street and Mong Kok line up dozens of little clay pots over roaring flames, and queues form for bou zai faan: rice cooked right in the pot, topped with the day's ingredients and doused with sweet soy at the table. The prize is the golden, crackling crust (faan jiu) at the bottom. This vegetarian pot uses shiitake, fried tofu puffs and choy sum, seasoned with a mushroom-based vegetarian oyster sauce. Chef's tip: once the rice has absorbed its water, drizzle oil round the inside edge of the pot and turn it slowly over the flame; that's how the crust forms evenly instead of burning in one spot.
No Nigerian party, from a Lagos wedding to a child's birthday in Abuja, is complete without a tray of meat pies. Rich, crumbly short pastry is folded around a filling of minced beef, diced potato and carrot cooked with thyme and curry powder, crimped with a fork and baked golden. They are just as popular as a bakery snack with a cold drink. A common mistake is filling the pastry with hot or runny filling, which melts the butter and makes soggy pies; cool it and thicken it first. Chef's tip: keep the dough cold, and rest it in the fridge for 30 minutes before rolling so the pies stay short and flaky.
Almost every Nigerian kitchen has a pot of this red stew in the fridge. Lagos households cook a big batch on Saturday and eat it all week over white rice, boiled yam, plantain or beans. Red bell peppers, tomatoes, scotch bonnet and onion are blended and fried in oil for a long time until the raw taste is gone and the oil rises to the top, then browned chicken goes in. The classic mistake is not frying the pepper base long enough; the stew tastes sour and raw if you rush it. Chef's tip: boil the chicken first with seasoning, then fry it before it goes into the stew, and use that seasoned stock in the sauce.
Chhum han is how Mizo families eat vegetables at their simplest: whatever is in the garden (pumpkin, chayote, beans, aubergine, cabbage, potato) steamed or boiled until just tender and served on a plate with a sharp dip of crushed chilli, garlic, salt and herbs. In Aizawl it is part of almost every home meal, eaten with rice and bai. The vegetables taste of themselves, and the dip does the work. Chef's tip: steam each vegetable for its own time and take it off when a knife slides in; overcooked chhum han is watery and dull.
Hodu gwaja (호두과자) were first sold at Cheonan station in South Chungcheong in the 1930s, and the town's walnut orchards still supply the pieces of nut hidden in every one. Today you find them in paper bags at every motorway service station in Korea: bite-sized, walnut-shaped cakes with a soft, eggy shell around sweet red bean paste and a chunk of walnut. They are made in a hinged cast-iron mould; a madeleine or Japanese takoyaki pan works too, though the shape will differ. Eat them warm, on the day. Chef's tip: heat the mould properly before the first batch; the first cakes are always the palest, so judge doneness by the colour of the later ones.
Pepper soup is what Nigerians order at a bar on a Friday night, what a mother cooks for someone with a cold, and what a host puts out at every naming ceremony. Goat meat on the bone is simmered with pepper soup spice, a blend that usually includes calabash nutmeg (ehuru), alligator pepper and uda pods, plus scotch bonnet and scent leaf, into a thin, fiery, deeply aromatic broth. Catfish pepper soup is the other favourite: add 800 g of catfish steaks for the last 15 minutes instead of the goat. The usual mistake is boiling the goat hard, which makes it tough; it needs a gentle simmer. Chef's tip: toast the whole spices in a dry pan for a minute before grinding, and the broth smells twice as strong.
Hogao (or guiso) is the base and topping of Colombian home cooking, from Antioquia to Cali: ripe tomatoes and long spring onions (cebolla larga) cooked slowly in oil with garlic and cumin until soft and jammy. It is spooned over patacones, arepas, boiled potatoes and yuca, stirred into beans and rice, and served in a little bowl at the table. Chef's tip: cook it low and slow; a fast, hot hogao tastes raw and sharp, while a patient one turns sweet.
Lángos is the deep-fried flatbread of Hungarian beaches and markets: it is eaten in swimsuits on the shore of Lake Balaton, at Budapest's Great Market Hall and at every summer fair. The dough is soft and yeasted, often enriched with mashed potato, and it fries into a puffy disc that is crisp at the edges and chewy in the middle. The classic topping is garlic water brushed on hot, then sour cream and a snowfall of grated cheese. Chef's tip: stretch the dough thinner in the centre than at the rim; the edge puffs into a crisp crust while the middle stays soft enough to hold the toppings. Choose a cheese made with vegetarian rennet (many supermarket Cheddars and Edams are).
Hokey pokey is what New Zealanders call honeycomb toffee, and vanilla ice cream full of crunchy little nuggets of it has been the country's best-loved flavour since the mid-twentieth century; it's scooped into cones at dairies and beaches from Auckland to Invercargill. The honeycomb is a bubbling golden syrup toffee that foams up when bicarbonate of soda goes in and sets glassy and light. Folded through a rich no-churn vanilla base, it stays crunchy at first and slowly turns chewy and toffee-like. Chef's tip: don't stir the sugar once it starts to melt; swirl the pan instead, or it will crystallise and turn grainy.
Hokkaido grows most of Japan's sweetcorn, and in late summer roadside stands around Sapporo and Furano sell cobs so sweet people eat them raw. Butter corn is how the island turns that harvest into a side dish: kernels hissing in a hot pan with Hokkaido's other pride, butter, and finished with soy sauce until the edges catch. You'll find it as a ramen topping, a beer snack in izakaya and a bento filler. Serve it hot beside grilled vegetables or rice. Chef's tip: let the kernels sit in the pan without stirring for a minute at a time. A few browned, almost toasted kernels give the dish its nutty, popcorn-like smell.
Holubtsi, 'little doves', are the cabbage rolls of Ukrainian family feasts, made by the trayful for weddings, christenings and Christmas in homes from Lviv to Poltava. This version contains pork: tender cabbage leaves wrap a mix of pork and beef mince, rice, onion and carrot, and the rolls bake slowly in a tomato and soured cream sauce. Serve with more soured cream and dill. Chef's tip: core the cabbage and simmer the whole head, peeling off leaves as they soften; they come away without tearing.
Holvaitar is one of the oldest sweets of Bukhara: flour slowly roasted in butter until it smells like toasted nuts, then cooked with a sugar syrup into a soft, spoonable halva and topped with walnuts. Bukharan families make it for Navruz in March, for the 'Thursday' remembrance meals, and for women after childbirth, served warm in small bowls with green tea. It is closer to a pudding than to the brittle sesame halva sold in the bazaar. Chef's tip: patience at the roasting stage is everything; stop when the flour is the colour of milky coffee — paler tastes raw, darker turns bitter.
Guia, a small inland village in the Algarve, is famous across Portugal for its churrasqueiras, where flattened chickens are grilled over charcoal and painted with fiery piri-piri sauce; families drive out on summer evenings just to eat it. The bird marinates in a blend of small hot chillies, garlic, lemon, paprika and olive oil, then grills until the skin is blistered and the meat juicy. Serve with chips, rice or a tomato salad, and extra sauce for brave diners. Chef's tip: keep back some of the sauce before it touches the chicken; that fresh portion is for basting and the table.
Cebu claims the best lechon in the Philippines, and its whole roast pigs are stuffed with lemongrass, garlic and spring onion so the meat needs no sauce. Lechon belly (lechon belyo) brings that flavour to a home oven: a slab of pork belly is rolled around the same herbs, tied, and roasted slowly, then blasted with heat until the rind turns to crackling. It is the centrepiece for Cebuano fiestas, Christmas and big birthdays, carved at the table and eaten with rice and a little spiced vinegar. Chef's tip: score only the meat side, never the skin, and dry the rind in the fridge overnight; an unbroken, dry skin crackles evenly.
Cullen skink takes its name from the fishing village of Cullen on the Moray Firth in north-east Scotland, and it is now served in pubs from Aberdeen to Edinburgh. Undyed smoked haddock is poached in milk, which then becomes the base of a creamy soup with potato, onion and leek; the flaked fish goes back in at the end. Smoky, gentle and filling, it is eaten with oatcakes or crusty bread. Chef's tip: choose pale, undyed smoked haddock; the bright yellow kind is coloured and tastes harsher.
Yuba is the thin skin that forms on soy milk as it heats, and in Kyoto and the temple town of Nikko it is a delicacy in its own right. Workshops in Kyoto's old streets have made it for centuries for monks' shojin ryori, the Buddhist vegetarian cuisine that relied on it for protein. Fresh yuba is soft, creamy and faintly sweet, and the first sheets of the day, eaten warm with a drop of soy, are prized above all. It needs patience rather than skill: just a wide pan, gentle heat and good soy milk. Serve as a starter with wasabi soy, or roll the sheets and slice them. Chef's tip: use unsweetened soy milk with at least 7% protein (check the label). Thin supermarket drinks won't form a skin.
Karachi's barbecue streets, from Burns Road to Boat Basin, are famous for chicken tikka cooked on the bone: whole legs and breast quarters soaked in a red, sharp yogurt-chilli marinade and grilled over charcoal until charred at the edges. It's late-night food after a wedding or a cricket match, eaten with paratha, raita and onion rings. This home version uses the oven grill and a quick smoke at the end for that barbecue taste. Chef's tip: let the marinade sit overnight; chicken on the bone needs time for the flavour to reach the middle.
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