Sayur lodeh is everyday cooking in Central Java, made in big pots in Solo and Semarang kitchens and ladled over rice, with lontong rice cakes at Lebaran, or alongside opor and sambal goreng on festive tables. It's soupy rather than thick: a fragrant broth of coconut milk, galangal, lemongrass and lime leaf that carries chunks of aubergine, long beans, chayote and sweetcorn, plus tempeh and tofu to make it a meal. The flavour is mellow and slightly sweet, so the heat comes from sambal on the side. Chef's tip: keep the pot at a gentle simmer once the coconut milk goes in and stir now and then — a rolling boil splits the coconut milk into oily curds.
Spin the randomizer, search with what's already in your fridge, or browse recipes from our chefs.
Lasary legioma, vegetable lasary, is a tangy, turmeric-yellow pickle of carrot, green beans and cabbage that sits on the table in Malagasy homes and hotelys (small canteens) to brighten rice and plain dishes. It is close to the achards of Réunion and Mauritius and is made in large jars to last the week. Chef's tip: blanch the vegetables for only a minute and cool them fast; they should stay crunchy, not cooked.
Created in a Harbin government kitchen in the early 1900s to please Russian guests, this is the north-east's own sweet-and-sour pork, and every Dongbei restaurant still serves a heaped plate of it. Large, thin slices of tenderloin go into a thick potato-starch coating, are fried twice until they shatter, then are tossed in a pale, sharp sugar-and-vinegar glaze with shreds of ginger, carrot and coriander. Unlike the red Cantonese version there is no ketchup and no pineapple; the flavour is cleaner and more sour. Bring it to the table the second it leaves the wok, alongside steamed rice and a cold cucumber salad. Chef's tip: soak the potato starch in water for an hour and pour off the clear liquid; the thick paste underneath gives the crispest coating.
Kalmi vada gets its name from kalam, the Hindi word for pen: the fried chana-dal log is sliced into thin, slanted pieces that resemble pen nibs, then fried again until the slices are crunchy right through. In Jaipur and Ajmer, kalmi vadas are sold by weight from big trays, especially during the monsoon, and served with mint chutney and hot tea. The dal is ground coarse and spiced with whole coriander, fennel and chilli, so every bite crackles. The mistake to avoid is adding water when grinding; a wet mix won't hold its shape and absorbs oil. Chef's tip: let the first-fried logs cool completely before slicing, or they'll crumble under the knife.
In the Mewar region around Udaipur, maize is a staple crop, and in winter it even goes into kadhi. Instead of gram flour, cooks thicken sour buttermilk with fine maize flour, which gives a golden, slightly earthy, gently sweet kadhi with no pakoras in it. It is ladled over makki ki roti or bajra roti, or eaten with plain rice and a raw onion on the side. The tadka is simple but bold: ghee, cumin, fenugreek, crushed garlic and whole red chillies. The usual mistake is not stirring until it boils—the yogurt splits into curds and whey. Chef's tip: simmer it longer than you would a besan kadhi, at least 20 minutes, until no raw corn taste remains.
Beijing's famous roast duck is a banquet showpiece, carved at the table in restaurants near Qianmen and eaten in thin wheat pancakes with sticks of cucumber, spring onion and a smear of sweet bean sauce. Restaurants use hanging ovens and inflate the skin with air; at home a scald with boiling water, a sweet vinegar glaze and a night uncovered in the fridge get you most of the way there. The prize is the lacquered, glass-crisp skin, with the meat underneath still juicy. Serve it as the centrepiece of a family feast, followed by a simple soup made from the carcass. Chef's tip: dry the duck uncovered on a rack in the fridge for at least 12 hours; a dry skin is the whole secret.
Olluco is a glossy yellow-and-pink tuber grown high in the Andes, crunchy when raw and silky when cooked, and in Lima's market eateries it is cut into fine matchsticks and stewed with charqui, sun-dried meat that was the travel food of Inca messengers. The dish is gently spiced with ají panca and finished with fresh parsley, and it is always served with white rice. Latin shops sell olluco in jars; if you can't find it, firm new potatoes or courgette give a similar texture, and beef brisket stands in well for charqui. Chef's tip: cut the olluco and rinse it well; the slippery sap washes off and the stew won't turn slimy.
Mageu (also amahewu or mahewu) is a thin, sour, nourishing drink of fermented maize porridge, made in homes across Zimbabwe, South Africa, Zambia and Botswana and drunk by farm workers, schoolchildren and anyone needing a filling lift on a hot afternoon. A little wheat flour or a spoonful of the last batch starts the fermentation overnight. Commercial cartons are sold everywhere, but home-made tastes fresher. Chef's tip: let the porridge cool to lukewarm before adding the starter; too hot and it kills the fermentation.
Mohan thaal, named after Krishna, is offered at temples on Janmashtami and fills sweet boxes at Diwali in both Rajasthan and Gujarat. It is coarse gram flour roasted in ghee until it turns golden and smells like roasted nuts, then set with cardamom syrup into a grainy, fudge-like slab and cut into diamonds. The texture comes from a step called dhabo: rubbing ghee and milk into the flour, then sieving it into tiny granules before roasting. The mistake most cooks make is cooking the syrup too long; the fudge sets rock-hard and crumbles when cut. Chef's tip: take the syrup off the heat at a firm one-and-a-half string stage, and stop stirring when the mixture pulls away from the pan's sides in one mass.
When the spring bamboo shoots push up through the hillsides of Huizhou, farmhouse kitchens braise them with chunks of the region's cured ham. The salty, deep-flavoured ham seasons the broth, and the shoots soak it up while keeping their crunch and gentle sweetness. Serve it as a side dish with rice and other plates, or as a light lunch by itself. Fresh bamboo shoots must be peeled and boiled before use, because raw shoots contain natural toxins; canned shoots are already cooked and only need rinsing. Chef's tip: taste the broth before adding any salt, as the ham often brings all the salt the dish needs.
During the monsoon festival of Teej and through Raksha Bandhan, Jaipur's sweet shops stack golden, honeycomb discs of ghevar in their windows. The batter is little more than flour, chilled ghee and ice-cold water, poured into hot ghee in thin streams so it foams into a lacy round. It is then soaked in syrup and finished with rabri, sliced pistachios and a pinch of saffron. Married daughters traditionally receive it from their mothers' homes during Teej. The most common mistake is batter that is too warm or too thick; it fries into a heavy pancake instead of a web. Chef's tip: whisk the ghee with ice cubes until it is white and fluffy before adding flour, and keep the batter bowl in a tray of ice water while frying. A narrow, deep pan, or a metal ring set in a saucepan, gives the sides that help the batter build up.
Romazava is often called the national dish of Madagascar: a light, gingery broth of several kinds of leafy greens (brèdes) and tomato, ladled over a big plate of rice. In Antananarivo it usually includes zebu beef; this vegetable version keeps the essential leaves, especially brèdes mafana (paracress), whose flowers and leaves make the mouth tingle. Spinach, watercress and mustard greens work well outside Madagascar. Chef's tip: add the greens in order of toughness and stop as soon as they are tender; romazava should taste fresh and green, not stewed.
Shah plov, the "king's pilaf", is the showpiece of Azerbaijani weddings and Novruz feasts, especially in Baku, Shaki and Ganja. Saffron rice layered with butter-glazed apricots, raisins, prunes and chestnuts is packed into a pot lined with overlapping sheets of thin lavash, then baked until the bread forms a crisp golden dome. It is carried whole to the table, the top is cut like a crown, and everyone gets a crisp shard with their rice. The classic version also has lamb; this one keeps the fruit and nuts that already make it festive. Chef's tip: brush every lavash sheet generously with butter and overlap them by at least a third; thin spots tear when the plov is turned out.
In Iquitos, Tarapoto and the river towns of Peru's Amazon, juanes are steamed by the hundred for the feast of San Juan on 24 June, when families picnic by the rivers to mark the start of the dry season. Each parcel hides a piece of chicken, half a boiled egg and a black olive inside rice seasoned with turmeric, cumin and the herb sacha culantro, all wrapped in broad bijao leaves that perfume the rice. Banana leaves are the easiest swap outside the jungle. Chef's tip: let the rice cool before you wrap it; warm rice is too soft to shape and the parcels lose their round shape.
Koba is the street sweet of Madagascar's highlands, sold in thick slices from huge logs wrapped in banana leaves at markets and taxi-brousse stops around Antananarivo and Antsirabe. Koba ravina is a dense block of ground peanuts, rice flour and brown sugar; koba akondro adds ripe banana and is softer. This home version makes small parcels that steam in an hour and a half instead of a whole day. Chef's tip: wrap the parcels tightly; loose parcels let water in and the koba turns sticky instead of firm.
Lasary voatabia is the fresh tomato relish served beside the rice at almost every Malagasy meal, from Antananarivo's highland homes to the coast. Tomatoes and spring onion are chopped very small, sharpened with lime or vinegar and a little sakay (chilli), and spooned onto the rice to wake up broths like romazava. It is juicier and finer than a salad. Chef's tip: chop the tomatoes very small, almost to a pulp at the edges; the juice is meant to soak into the rice.
Papad ki sabzi comes from Rajasthan's dry interior, where fresh vegetables were scarce and pantries relied on sun-dried staples. Roasted papads are broken into a hot, spiced yogurt gravy at the last minute, so they soften but keep a little chew. Marwari households still make it on days when the vegetable basket is empty, eating it with bajra roti or phulka and a little ghee. Because it's ready in minutes, it's also a favourite for unexpected guests. The common mistake is adding the papads too early: they swell and turn to mush. Chef's tip: go easy on the salt, because papads are already well salted; season after tasting with the papad in.
Kanpur's best-known sweet is a crumbly, rich laddu sold in brown paper boxes near the city's busy crossings and taken home as a souvenir from the city. It is made by roasting semolina slowly in ghee until it smells like warm biscuits, then mixing in browned khoya, sugar and plenty of cashews, giving a soft, melt-in-the-mouth bite with tiny pieces of crunch. Families make a batch for Diwali or Raksha Bandhan and keep it for a week. The biggest mistake is adding the sugar while the mixture is still hot; it melts and the laddus collapse into flat puddles. Chef's tip: if the mixture feels too dry to bind, sprinkle in warm milk a teaspoon at a time rather than adding more ghee.
Kulajda comes from South Bohemia, the land of carp ponds and pine forests around České Budějovice and Český Krumlov, where families come home from the woods in late summer with baskets of porcini. It is a thick, pale, gently sour soup of potatoes, mushrooms, cream and plenty of dill, finished with vinegar and served with a soft poached egg floating in each bowl. It is eaten as a filling lunch on its own with a slice of rye bread. Chef's tip: add the vinegar off the heat and taste as you go; the soup should be clearly tangy but never sharp, like a good pickle brine softened by cream.
Bolo polana takes its name from the old Polana district of Maputo and is a celebration cake in Mozambique, made for birthdays and Christmas, built on two of the country's great crops: cashew nuts and potatoes. Ground cashews and mashed potato make it dense, fragrant and very moist, with orange zest to lift it. It shows the Portuguese baking tradition meeting local ingredients. Chef's tip: grind the cashews in short pulses with a spoon of the sugar; ground alone, they turn to cashew butter.
In Uttar Pradesh, people joke that kathal is the vegetarian's mutton, and the comparison makes sense once you taste it. Young, unripe jackfruit has a firm, fibrous texture that absorbs a slow-cooked onion masala and the smoky warmth of black cardamom. Lucknow and Kanpur homes cook it in summer when the green fruit is plentiful, and it is a common choice for Sunday lunches and family gatherings, served with paratha or rice. The mistake to avoid is undercooking the jackfruit before adding it to the masala; it will remain rubbery no matter how long it simmers afterward. Chef's tip: frying the boiled pieces until golden before they go into the gravy gives them a meaty crust that holds up in the sauce.
Nhopi is a simple Shona dish from Zimbabwe, made at harvest time when the pumpkins come in: pumpkin or butternut boiled soft, mashed and enriched with peanut butter. Some families stir in a little maize meal to make it thicker (nhopi dovi), and it is eaten for breakfast or as a side with greens. It is sweet, nutty and loved by children. Chef's tip: drain the pumpkin very well before mashing, or the nhopi turns thin and watery.
Mawa jalebi, sometimes called khoya jalebi, belongs to Jabalpur and the towns of the Mahakoshal region of Madhya Pradesh, where sweet shops sell them stacked like dark brown coils. Unlike the crisp batter jalebi piped into hot oil, these are rolled from a soft khoya dough into ropes, coiled by hand and fried slowly, so they come out tender and almost fudgy inside a thin caramelised skin. They are eaten warm on winter mornings and bought by the kilo for weddings. Chef's tip: roll the ropes no thicker than a pencil; thicker coils look generous but stay doughy at the core.
Şəkərbura is one of the three sweets that must be on the khoncha tray at Novruz, the spring new year celebrated on 20–21 March, alongside pakhlava and gogal. The half-moon shape is said to stand for the moon, and the fine herringbone pattern on top is pinched by hand with small brass tweezers called maggash, a skill passed down at family baking sessions in the days before the holiday. Inside is a sweet, fragrant mix of ground almonds or walnuts with sugar and cardamom. Shaki is famous for its shekerbura, though every family has its own pattern. Serve with black tea. Chef's tip: bake them pale; shekerbura should stay creamy-white with only the edges just turning blond, never brown.
In the highlands around Huancayo and Ayacucho, families mark harvests and saints' days by burying marinated meats, potatoes, sweet potatoes, broad beans and humitas under hot stones and earth for a pachamanca, an 'earth pot'. City cooks get close to it with a heavy pot: the same green marinade of huacatay (black mint), chincho, ají and garlic, layered with meats and roots and steamed in their own juices under banana or corn leaves. Chef's tip: layer the hardest things lowest, potatoes on the bottom and chicken nearest the lid, just as the stones are packed in the field.
Few dishes say Fez quite like djaj mqualli, the golden chicken that turns up at family lunches, weddings and Friday tables across the old medina. The chicken simmers slowly in its own juices with grated onion, ginger and saffron until the meat slips off the bone and the onions melt into a thick, glossy, yellow sauce. Salty-sour preserved lemon and bright green olives go in near the end, cutting through the richness. Mop it up with crusty bread, or spoon it over plain couscous for a weekday dinner. Chef's tip: grate the onion rather than chopping it; it dissolves completely and gives the sauce its body without any flour.
Mathura in Uttar Pradesh, Krishna's birthplace, has a peda all its own: not the pale milky kind found elsewhere, but a dusty-brown disc with a deep, toffee-like flavour from milk solids slowly roasted until they caramelise. Pilgrims buy boxes after visiting the temples, and they are made in huge batches around Janmashtami as an offering. The texture should be dense yet slightly grainy, rolled in fine boora sugar so the outside sparkles. The usual mistake is rushing the roasting over high heat, which scorches the khoya in spots and makes it bitter and greasy. Chef's tip: keep the heat low and scrape the bottom of the pan constantly; the colour should change gradually from cream to light brown, then to the shade of milky coffee.
Every train pulling out of Agra carries boxes of petha. The city's halwais have been candying ash gourd for generations, and the plain white kind remains the classic: firm, crystal-clear cubes with a sugar crust and a juicy centre, lightly scented with rose or kewra. At home it makes a good festival sweet for Diwali gifting because it keeps for two weeks. The firmness comes from soaking the gourd in food-grade slaked lime (chuna, sold as pickling lime) or, as some cooks prefer, in alum water. Leaving out the soak, or rushing it, is the most common mistake: the cubes fall apart in the syrup. Chef's tip: prick each cube deeply all over with a fork before soaking, so the lime water and later the syrup reach the centre.
In Boston and along the Massachusetts and Maine coast, chowder is served in paper cups at the harbour, in bread bowls and at every clam shack with oyster crackers on the side. Fresh clams are steamed open, their briny juice becomes the stock, and potatoes, onion and a little smoky bacon (pork) simmer in it before cream goes in. It is creamy but not gluey. Chef's tip: thicken it only lightly; chowder should coat a spoon, not stand up in it.
Matapa is the great dish of southern Mozambique, from Maputo to Inhambane: young cassava leaves pounded and cooked for a long time with ground peanuts, coconut milk and garlic until soft, creamy and deep green. It is eaten with rice or xima (maize porridge), and on the coast it often has crab or prawns stirred in; this version keeps to the leaves. Frozen ground cassava leaves are sold in African grocers. Chef's tip: cook the cassava leaves for at least an hour; undercooked they taste bitter and are not safe to eat.
In many Uttar Pradesh homes, tehri is what happens on a cold evening when nobody wants to cook three dishes. Rice, potatoes, cauliflower and peas go into one pot with mustard oil, turmeric and whole spices, and come out yellow, fluffy and lightly spiced. Families in Kanpur, Allahabad and Varanasi eat it with plain yogurt, a spoon of mango pickle and roasted papad, and it is also cooked for winter picnics. It differs from pulao in its turmeric colour and the sharp warmth of smoked mustard oil. A frequent mistake is stirring after the water goes in, which breaks the grains and makes the rice gluey. Chef's tip: heat the mustard oil until it just smokes, then let it cool for a few seconds before adding spices; this mellows its bite without losing the flavour.
Chilli crab was first sold from a pushcart on the Kallang river in the 1950s and is now the dish visitors queue for along Singapore's East Coast seafood strip. Big mud crabs are cut up, wok-fried and simmered in a thick, sweet, tangy and gently hot sauce of chilli, tomato and garlic, which is then silked with beaten egg. Everyone eats with their hands and mops up the sauce with fried or steamed mantou buns. It is a weekend or celebration meal, messy and loud. 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 boiling the sauce after adding the egg, which scrambles it into lumps; pour it in a thin stream over a low heat. Chef's tip: ask the fishmonger to clean and quarter the crab for you, and crack each claw lightly with the back of a cleaver so the sauce soaks in.
A family restaurant in Hanoi's Old Quarter served this one dish for so long that the street itself was renamed Chả Cá, Grilled Fish Street. Chunks of white fish are marinated in turmeric and galangal, cooked until golden, then brought to the table in a pan of hot oil where everyone throws in handfuls of dill and spring onion to wilt. You eat it over rice vermicelli with peanuts, fresh herbs and a pungent shrimp-paste dip. Dill is rare elsewhere in Vietnamese cooking, which is why this dish tastes so distinct. Chef's tip: use a lot more dill than seems sensible; it is treated as a vegetable here, not a garnish.
Shahi tukda, the 'royal piece', comes from the Mughal kitchens of Old Delhi, and you'll still find trays of it around Jama Masjid during Ramzan, eaten after the evening meal, and at Eid feasts. Thick slices of bread are fried in ghee until crisp and golden, dipped briefly in cardamom and saffron syrup, then covered with rabri, milk slowly reduced until thick and full of creamy flakes. The bread stays crisp at the edges and soft in the middle. It's rich, so small pieces go a long way. Chef's tip: start the rabri first and let it simmer while you fry the bread; it takes the longest and needs only an occasional stir.
Muriwo une dovi, greens with peanut butter, is a daily relish in Zimbabwean homes, eaten with sadza at lunch and supper. Collard greens, rape or pumpkin leaves are cooked with onion and tomato, then stirred into a creamy peanut sauce. Zambia's ifisashi is the same idea, usually without tomato and often made with pumpkin leaves or spinach and eaten with nshima. Chef's tip: add the peanut butter at the end and cook just long enough to thicken; long boiling makes it gluey.
Hanging in long glossy strips in the windows of Guangzhou's siu mei shops, char siu is the roast pork Cantonese families pick up on the way home to put on rice, noodles or into steamed buns. The outside is lacquered, sweet and a little charred at the edges; the inside stays juicy, savoury and faintly scented with five-spice. Shoulder (pork butt) is the cut to use, because its marbling keeps the strips moist through a hot oven. Marinate it overnight in the fridge, roast it the next day and eat it warm with steamed rice and blanched greens, or cold in fried rice and noodle soups. Chef's tip: save the honey for the last ten minutes; brushed on at the start it burns black long before the pork is cooked.
Luwombo is a royal dish of the Buganda kingdom in central Uganda, served at weddings, introduction ceremonies and Christmas: a stew wrapped and tied in softened banana leaves and steamed for hours so the leaf perfumes everything. Chicken, beef or smoked fish are traditional, but mushroom luwombo in a groundnut (peanut) sauce is a well-loved meat-free version, especially with the large wild mushrooms sold in Kampala markets. Serve with matoke. Chef's tip: wilt the banana leaves over a flame until they turn glossy and bendy; stiff leaves split and the sauce runs out.
Walk through the lanes near Dashashwamedh Ghat in Varanasi in the evening and you will see vendors mashing tomatoes and potatoes in large iron pans, cooking them with ghee and spices until thick, then spooning the mixture into small clay cups. Tamatar chaat is unique to Banaras: served hot, spicy, tangy, and finished with a thin sugar syrup and a pinch of chaat masala, then topped with crisp sev for crunch. Locals eat it standing up after the aarti, often followed by a glass of lassi. Many people forget the sugar syrup, but that's what balances the sourness and makes it Banarasi. Chef's tip: use very ripe, soft tomatoes and mash them right in the pan with the back of the ladle, leaving some texture.
In an Uzbek chaikhana, from Tashkent's shady teahouses to the courtyards of Khiva, the first thing to arrive is a teapot of kok choy, green tea, with small bowls (piala) and a plate of raisins, almonds and sweets. The host performs qaytarish: pours a bowl, tips it back into the pot, and repeats three times to blend the brew, then serves each guest a bowl only half full, a sign they should stay and be topped up. Green tea is drunk with plov to cut the oil, and all through hot summer days. Chef's tip: use water just off the boil (about 90°C) and warm the pot first; boiling water straight from the kettle makes Chinese green tea taste harsh.
Albóndigas turn up all over Spain: in a cazuelita on a tapas bar counter, as the second course of a weekday menú del día, and in home kitchens on a Sunday when there is time to roll them. These are made with pork and beef, softened with milk-soaked bread, browned and then simmered in a tomato sauce thickened the old Spanish way with ground fried almonds, which gives it body and a gentle nutty sweetness. Serve them with chips, rice or plenty of bread. They taste even better the next day. Chef's tip: wet your hands with cold water before rolling each meatball; the mixture won't stick and the balls come out smooth and round.
Arroz al horno (arròs al forn in Valencian) is the oven rice of Valencia and Xàtiva, traditionally made the day after a big pot of cocido, using its leftover chickpeas and broth. Families once carried the clay dish to the village baker's oven; today it is baked at home in a wide, shallow earthenware cazuela. Pork ribs, morcilla (Spanish onion blood sausage), slices of potato, chickpeas and a whole head of garlic sit on top of the rice, which bakes into a dry, tender layer full of flavour. Use any ovenproof dish about 30 cm across and 5 cm deep if you don't have a cazuela. Chef's tip: have the stock at a rolling boil when you pour it in, then get the dish into the hot oven within seconds; a lukewarm start leaves the rice chalky in the middle.
Lucknow's cooks built their reputation on restraint: the Awadhi biryani is perfumed rather than fiery, with no tomato, very little chilli and whole spices that whisper instead of shout. Vegetables are cooked in spiced yogurt, layered with long-grain rice that is only three-quarters done, then sealed under a dough lid so everything finishes in its own steam, a technique the city calls dum pukht. It is the dish for Eid gatherings, wedding buffets and long Sunday lunches across Uttar Pradesh, served with a cooling raita and a sliced onion salad. The common mistake is boiling the rice fully before layering; it then turns soft and sticky under the lid instead of separating into long, distinct grains. Chef's tip: lift a grain and press it between your fingers before draining; it should break into two or three firm pieces with a white core.
Chips mayai ('chips and eggs') is Tanzania's best-loved street food, fried to order in Dar es Salaam and Zanzibar at evening stalls with big flat pans: fresh chips are bound into a thick omelette and served with kachumbari and chilli sauce or ketchup. Children and students live on it. Chef's tip: let the chips go crisp before pouring in the egg; soft chips make a soggy omelette.
Delhi's fruit chaat wallahs set up their carts in the afternoons with towers of guava, papaya, apples and bananas, plus roasted sweet potato, and chop whatever you point at into a leaf bowl. Then comes the part that makes it chaat rather than fruit salad: a big shake of tangy chaat masala, black salt and roasted cumin, a squeeze of lime, sometimes a pinch of chilli. It's a refreshing mid-afternoon snack in summer, and a regular sight on Ramzan iftar spreads too. The salt and spice make sweet fruit taste even sweeter. Chef's tip: season it just before eating; once the salt goes on, the fruit starts weeping juice and goes soft within 15 minutes.
Maharagwe ya nazi, red beans in coconut, is a weekday staple along the Swahili coast from Mombasa to Dar es Salaam and on Zanzibar, eaten with chapati, rice or mandazi. The beans are cooked until creamy, then simmered in a gently spiced tomato and coconut sauce. It differs from mbaazi wa nazi (pigeon peas) in its red kidney beans and its tomato-based, curry-spiced sauce. Chef's tip: add the coconut milk at the end and keep it at a bare simmer; boiled hard, it splits and turns oily.
Oromo, or orama, is a big rolled dumpling: a thin sheet of dough spread with filling, rolled into a long coil and steamed in a multi-tiered mantovarka. It's a home dish across Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Uzbekistan, quicker than shaping dozens of manti. In autumn, when Kyrgyz gardens in the Chüy Valley are full of squash, it's filled with grated pumpkin and onion, which turn sweet and juicy. Serve in thick slices with sour cream or a garlicky tomato sauce. Chef's tip: grate the pumpkin coarsely and salt it only just before rolling; salted too early it weeps and makes the dough soggy.
Showing 45 of 4,484 recipes
Show more recipesPage 247 of 499
Vegan
Gluten free
Spicy
Malagasy
Chinese
Indian
Peruvian
Azerbaijani
Czech
Moroccan
American
Singaporean
Vietnamese
Uzbek
Spanish
Kazakh