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.
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Csirkepaprikás is the Sunday chicken of Hungarian homes, cooked by grandmothers in villages and in Budapest flats alike and always served with nokedli, the little egg dumplings. Chicken thighs braise gently with onion, plenty of sweet paprika, tomato and pepper, then soured cream is stirred in to make a velvety, brick-orange sauce. Chef's tip: mix the soured cream with a spoonful of flour and some hot sauce before adding it; this stops it from splitting.
This is a pork dish. In the southern and western coastal towns, from Negombo down to Galle, kalu uru mas is the curry that comes out for Christmas lunch, family get-togethers and Sunday rice spreads. Its colour comes from curry powder roasted in a dry pan until it is nearly black, plus goraka, a sour dried fruit that tenderises the meat and balances the fat. The sauce ends up thick, glossy and smoky-sour, clinging to every cube of pork. Eat it with plain rice, string hoppers or bread, and it tastes even better the next day. Chef's tip: roast the curry powder over a low heat and keep stirring; take it off the moment it turns the colour of dark chocolate and smells toasty, because burnt powder turns bitter.
Sit down at a kebab house in Adana or Gaziantep and a small dish of acılı ezme arrives before you have ordered: tomato, pepper, onion and parsley chopped almost to a paste, sharpened with pomegranate molasses and hot pepper flakes. It works just as well at a vegetarian table, spooned onto bulgur pilaf, falafel or grilled vegetables, or scooped up with warm flatbread. The mistake most people make is using a food processor: it turns the vegetables into watery soup instead of a thick, rough relish. Chef's tip: chop everything by hand with a big knife, then drain the tomatoes in a sieve for 5 minutes before mixing, so the ezme stays thick enough to sit on bread.
Croque monsieur first appeared on Paris café menus in the early 1900s and is still the quick lunch of the city's brasseries, eaten at the zinc bar with a green salad. It contains pork (ham). Good white bread is spread with Dijon mustard and béchamel, filled with ham and Gruyère, then topped with more sauce and cheese and baked until golden. Put a fried egg on top and it becomes a croque madame. Chef's tip: toast the bread lightly first so it stays crisp under the sauce.
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.
Chicken Kyiv, kotleta po-kyivsky, became the pride of the restaurants of Kyiv in the 20th century, and the city still serves it with a little paper frill on the bone and a fountain of herb butter when it is cut. A flattened chicken breast is rolled around a frozen stick of garlic, dill and parsley butter, double-crumbed to seal it, then fried and finished in the oven. Serve with mash or fried potatoes and a green salad. Chef's tip: freeze the butter until rock hard and seal every edge with two coats of egg and crumbs; that is what stops it from leaking.
Satsivi is a dish of the Georgian New Year table, prepared in homes across western Georgia, Imereti and Samegrelo, a day ahead so it can be served cold at the long supra feast on 1 January. Poached chicken is covered in a thick, ivory walnut sauce scented with garlic, fenugreek, coriander and marigold petals and sharpened with vinegar. It is rich and fragrant, eaten with cornbread (mchadi) or fresh bread. Chef's tip: blend the walnuts with a little warm stock until they release their oil; this gives the sauce its silky texture.
Chakhokhbili was first made with pheasant (khokhobi), but in Georgian homes from Tbilisi to Kutaisi today it is an everyday chicken stew, the kind cooked on a weeknight and served with bread to wipe the plate. Chicken pieces are browned without oil, then simmered with a lot of onion and ripe tomato, garlic, chilli and khmeli suneli spice, and finished with a big handful of fresh coriander, basil and dill. Chef's tip: brown the chicken skin side down in a dry pan; it releases enough fat to cook the onions.
Chashushuli is a fiery beef stew from the home kitchens and Tbilisi taverns of eastern Georgia, cooked in a clay ketsi pot or a heavy pan and eaten with shoti bread. Beef simmers slowly with lots of onion and tomato, then gets a hit of garlic, chilli, khmeli suneli and fresh coriander right at the end. It is meant to be spicy, but you can halve the chilli. Chef's tip: cook it until the sauce is thick enough to scoop with bread; Georgians do not eat it like soup.
Quiche lorraine comes from Lorraine in north-eastern France, near Nancy and Metz, where it began as a bread-dough tart filled with eggs, cream and smoked bacon. It contains pork. The true Lorraine version has no cheese, just a deep, wobbly custard and crisp lardons, and it is eaten warm for lunch with a green salad or cut into slices for picnics. Chef's tip: blind-bake the pastry until it is golden and sealed; a pale base turns soggy under the custard.
In spring, when globe artichokes pile up on stalls in İzmir and Urla, market sellers trim them on the spot into pale hearts kept in lemon water, and families take them home to make zeytinyağlı enginar. The hearts are braised cup-side up with small onions, carrots, potato and peas in olive oil and lemon, then served cold with a shower of dill, often as the first course of a spring dinner. The classic mistake is leaving trimmed artichokes in the air: they turn grey within minutes. Chef's tip: rub every cut surface with lemon as you go and drop the hearts straight into water with lemon juice and a spoonful of flour, which keeps them pale and cream-coloured.
Every night market in Taiwan, from Shilin in Taipei to Tainan's Garden Night Market, has a yan su ji stall with a queue, selling paper bags of bite-size fried chicken. Thigh pieces are marinated in soy, garlic and five-spice, coated in coarse sweet potato starch for a craggy, extra-crunchy shell, double-fried and tossed with fried Thai basil and a salt-and-white-pepper seasoning. The marinade traditionally includes rice wine, which contains alcohol; leave it out or use 1 tbsp water instead. Chef's tip: let the coated chicken rest for 5 minutes until the starch looks damp; it will then stay on in the oil.
Curry fish balls are the after-school snack of Hong Kong, sold on bamboo skewers from steaming pots at street stalls in Mong Kok and Sham Shui Po for a few dollars. Springy fish balls simmer in a thick, mildly spicy yellow curry sauce made with curry powder, coconut milk and a little satay sauce, and are eaten straight from the stick while still hot. Chef's tip: simmer the fish balls in the sauce for at least 10 minutes; they need time to soak up the curry.
In every crêperie in Brittany, from Rennes to Quimper, the first thing most people order is the complète: a lacy buckwheat galette folded square around ham, melted cheese and an egg, eaten for lunch or a casual dinner with a bowl of dry cider. Contains pork (ham). The batter is just buckwheat flour, water, salt and an egg, so the galette has no wheat; some buckwheat flour is milled alongside wheat, so check the packet if you avoid gluten. A cup of apple juice is a good alcohol-free partner. Chef's tip: rest the batter for at least 2 hours, or overnight in the fridge; it thickens and the galettes cook up thinner and crisper.
Gon chow ngau ho is the test of a Cantonese wok cook, and Hong Kong diners judge a dai pai dong (open-air food stall) or late-night café by it. Wide fresh rice noodles are tossed over a fierce flame with tender, marinated beef, bean sprouts and spring onion in soy sauce until smoky and glossy but never greasy or broken. The beef marinade sometimes includes Shaoxing wine, which contains alcohol; this version uses none. Chef's tip: separate the noodles by hand before cooking and do not stir with a spatula; lift and toss them so they stay whole.
Typhoon shelter crab comes from the boat people of Causeway Bay, who cooked for visitors on sampans moored in the harbour's storm shelters, and Hong Kong restaurants still serve it piled under a golden mountain of fried garlic. Crab pieces are dusted in starch and fried, then tossed in a wok with a huge amount of crisp garlic, dried chilli, fermented black beans and spring onion. Chef's tip: fry the garlic slowly over a medium heat; it should turn golden and crunchy, never dark, or it tastes bitter.
Lok lak is a favourite in Phnom Penh restaurants and family kitchens, a dish Cambodians often order on special nights out. Cubes of beef are marinated in oyster sauce, soy and garlic, seared fast in a hot wok and served on lettuce, tomato and onion with rice, a fried egg on top and a tiny bowl of tuk meric: Kampot black pepper, salt and lime juice for dipping. Chef's tip: dry the beef well and cook it in a very hot pan in two batches; it should sear, not stew.
In Nice the salad is a summer lunch eaten on shady terraces near the Cours Saleya market, and locals argue about what belongs in it. This is the generous everyday version found across the Riviera: ripe tomatoes, little potatoes, crisp green beans, soft-boiled eggs, good tuna and black olives, dressed with a sharp mustard vinaigrette. Use tuna in olive oil from a jar or tin, or a fresh tuna steak seared rare to medium. Chef's tip: dress the warm potatoes and beans first so they soak up the vinaigrette, then build the rest of the salad around them.
Winter in Istanbul brings fat leeks to every neighbourhood market, and zeytinyağlı pırasa is how many households use them: chunks of leek and carrot stewed gently in olive oil with a handful of rice to thicken the juices, finished with lemon. It is served at room temperature on the side of a winter table, or as a light lunch with bread and white cheese, and grandmothers often say it is better the second day. The usual mistake is skipping a proper wash: grit hides between the layers and ruins the whole pot. Chef's tip: cut the leeks on a slant into thick pieces and keep them whole rather than separating the rings, so they hold their shape through the slow braise.
Mok pa is cooked all over Laos, from Vientiane's riverside markets to village kitchens near the Mekong, where freshwater fish is the everyday protein. Chunks of white fish are mixed with a paste of lemongrass, shallot, garlic and chilli, a handful of dill and lime leaves and a spoon of sticky rice flour, then wrapped in banana leaf parcels and steamed until set and fragrant. Eat it with sticky rice and raw vegetables. Chef's tip: soften the banana leaves by passing them briefly over a flame or into hot water; they fold without cracking.
Kulwa (also called tibsi in parts of the Horn) is the fast, sizzling beef dish that Eritrean restaurants in Asmara and Massawa bring to the table in a hot clay dish: small strips of beef fried hard with onion, green chilli, a sprig of rosemary and a spoon of spiced butter, with a dusting of berbere. It is eaten with injera or bread as a weekend treat. The mistake is overcooking the beef until dry: it needs only a few minutes over high heat. Chef's tip: let the pan get really hot before adding the meat, and serve it still sizzling.
Khao jee pâté is the breakfast sandwich of Vientiane, sold from glass-fronted carts on street corners since the French era left Laos its love of baguettes. It is a pork sandwich: a crisp, light baguette is warmed over charcoal, spread with pork liver pâté and filled with Lao-style cold cuts (pork sausage or ham), pickled papaya or carrot, cucumber, herbs, chilli sauce and a splash of Maggi-style seasoning. Pregnant people should avoid pâté because of listeria risk. Chef's tip: warm the bread until the crust crackles; a soft baguette makes a soggy sandwich.
Jeow bong is the famous chilli relish of Luang Prabang, the old royal capital, sold in little jars at its night market and eaten with sticky rice, crisp river-weed sheets and fresh vegetables at almost every Lao meal. Dried chillies, roasted garlic, shallot and galangal are pounded with palm sugar and fish sauce into a sticky, smoky, sweet-hot jam. This version contains pork: traditionally it includes thin strips of dried buffalo skin, and here it uses cooked pork skin for the same chewy texture. Chef's tip: roast the aromatics until truly blackened in spots; that char gives jeow bong its smoky depth.
Mandi comes from the Hadramaut in Yemen, where meat was slow-cooked in a pit oven above the rice, and today mandi restaurants with long floor cushions are found all over Saudi Arabia and the Gulf, especially busy on Friday afternoons. Spiced chicken roasts until the skin is deep golden, the rice cooks in its stock with whole spices, and a final burst of smoke from a glowing piece of charcoal gives the dish its signature flavour. Serve with a fresh tomato and chilli salsa (sahawiq). Chef's tip: the charcoal step is optional but worth it; do it with the extractor on and a window open, and never leave the burning coal unattended.
Harees is one of the oldest dishes of the Arabian Gulf, made in the UAE, Oman and Saudi Arabia for Ramadan iftar, Eid and weddings, when big pots are stirred for hours and shared with neighbours. Whole wheat and chicken cook slowly together until the grain bursts and the meat falls apart, then everything is beaten to a smooth, sticky porridge and finished with ghee and a little cinnamon. It is soft, mild and very comforting. Chef's tip: beat it hard with a wooden spoon (or briefly with a stick blender) at the end; that is what gives harees its elastic texture.
Zigni is the signature stew of Asmara and the Eritrean highlands, served on a wide platter of injera at weddings, Sunday lunches and the end of fasts. Red onions are cooked slowly in a dry pot until they collapse, then berbere, garlic, ginger and tomato go in, followed by beef that simmers until tender in a deep red, peppery sauce finished with spiced butter (tesmi). The mistake is rushing the onions: they must cook down for a good 20 minutes to give the sauce its sweet base. Chef's tip: the onions start in a dry pan with no oil, the traditional way; stir them often and add a splash of water if they catch.
In the old town of Nice, pissaladière is sold by the square from bakeries and market stalls, a lunchtime slice or something to nibble with a drink before dinner. A thin bread dough is spread thickly with onions cooked down for almost an hour until soft and sweet, then crossed with salted anchovies and dotted with small black Niçoise olives. It is just as good at room temperature as warm. Chef's tip: cook the onions low and slow without letting them brown; they should be pale gold and jammy, not caramelised.
Cholent, called hamin by Sephardic families, is the slow stew that Jewish homes in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv and Bnei Brak put on before Shabbat begins on Friday afternoon, so it can cook gently overnight without anyone touching the stove and be eaten hot at Saturday lunch. Beef, dried beans, pearl barley, potatoes and onions cook for 12 hours or more in a paprika-scented broth, often with whole eggs in their shells that turn brown and creamy. Chef's tip: add enough water to just cover everything; too little and it dries out overnight, too much and it is soup.
In Tashkent, chuchvara is the little cousin of manti: dumplings no bigger than a thumbnail, folded around a peppery lamb-and-beef filling and dropped into clear meat broth. Families make them in big batches on a slow weekend, freeze trays of them, and eat bowls through the winter with a spoonful of suzma (strained yogurt) or sour cream and lots of dill. The dough is thin and firm, the filling juicy with grated onion, and the broth light enough to drink. Many home cooks roll the dough too thick, which turns the dumplings stodgy; aim for a sheet you can just see the board through. Chef's tip: freeze the shaped dumplings on a floured tray before bagging them, so they stay separate and cook straight from frozen.
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.
Dimlama is what Uzbek families cook at the end of summer, when the markets of the Fergana Valley are piled with cabbage, aubergine, peppers and tomatoes. Everything goes into one heavy pot in layers, lamb at the bottom, and the lid stays on for nearly two hours while the vegetables slowly give up their juice and become the sauce. There is no added water, so the flavour is deep and sweet. People eat it straight from shallow bowls with non bread. The biggest error is lifting the lid to check; the steam escapes, the vegetables stew dry and the bottom can catch. Chef's tip: seal the lid with a damp tea towel or a strip of foil so no steam gets out.
Khorovats is the centre of every Armenian summer weekend, whether at a family dacha near Yerevan or a picnic by Lake Sevan: big chunks of meat on long flat skewers, grilled over vine or apricot wood. This version uses pork (it contains pork) from the neck or shoulder, which stays juicy over fire; boneless lamb leg works the same way with 2–3 minutes less cooking. The marinade is just onion, black pepper, a little paprika and herbs, and the meat is served with raw onion, flat lavash and a plate of grilled vegetables. A frequent mistake is cutting the pieces small; at under 4 cm they dry out before the outside browns. Chef's tip: lay a sheet of lavash over the finished skewers for a minute so it soaks up the juices, then eat the bread too.
Armenian harissa has nothing to do with the North African chilli paste. It is a thick, smooth porridge of whole wheat and chicken, cooked for hours until both break down, then beaten hard with a wooden spoon. It is tied to Musa Dagh and the village of Anjar, where it is cooked in huge cauldrons for the September feast, and many families also make it for Easter and cold winter Sundays. The taste is gentle and comforting, lifted by browned butter and cumin poured on top. Cooks often stop stirring once the wheat has softened, but the long beating at the end is what gives harissa its creamy, stretchy texture. Chef's tip: soak the wheat the night before; it halves the cooking time.
Biber dolması turns up in every corner of Turkey, from Istanbul meyhanes to village kitchens in central Anatolia, and the olive-oil version without meat is the one eaten cold at summer lunches or packed for picnics. Thin-walled green dolma peppers are filled with rice cooked with onion, tomato, pine nuts, currants and warm spices, capped with a slice of tomato and simmered until the peppers slump and wrinkle. A frequent mistake is packing the filling to the top: leave a finger of space so the rice can swell. Chef's tip: let the peppers cool completely in their pot; the filling firms up and the flavours of mint and allspice come through much more clearly than when hot.
Along the coast of Normandy and Brittany, from Le Mont-Saint-Michel to Saint-Malo, summer means big black pots of moules marinières and a cone of frites, eaten at a seaside table with fingers and an empty shell as tongs. Fresh mussels steam open in minutes with shallot, garlic, thyme and white wine. The wine boils only briefly, so some alcohol stays; for an alcohol-free version use 150 ml fish or vegetable stock with 1 tbsp lemon juice. Chef's tip: buy mussels the day you cook them and keep them in the fridge in an open bowl covered with a damp cloth, never in water or a sealed bag.
Tartiflette is the dish skiers dream about on the last run of the day in the Savoie Alps, served bubbling in its dish in mountain restaurants from Annecy to Val d'Isère. It contains pork: sliced potatoes are layered with onion, smoky lardons and a splash of cream, then a whole Reblochon cheese is halved and laid rind-side up on top so it melts down through everything in the oven. Many cooks add a splash of white wine to the onions; this recipe leaves it out, so it is alcohol-free. Eat it with a sharp green salad and cornichons. Chef's tip: keep the rind on the Reblochon; it bakes to a golden, nutty crust.
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