Across the green Gurage and Sidama highlands, the enset or 'false banana' plant feeds whole families, and its scraped, fermented pulp becomes kocho, the dense flatbread that is the only proper partner for kitfo. Fermentation happens over weeks or months in leaf-lined pits, so outside Ethiopia you start with ready-fermented kocho, sold frozen or chilled in Ethiopian shops; there is no real substitute. The pulp is squeezed, chopped fine, patted into a round on enset or banana leaves and baked slowly on a griddle. The bread is chewy, slightly fibrous and pleasantly sour, with a faint fermented aroma, and it is torn and used to scoop kitfo, gomen kitfo and ayib, especially at Meskel. Too much moisture is the classic mistake, giving a gummy, raw-tasting middle; wring the pulp out well. Chef's tip: cook it low and slow under a lid, so the centre dries and sets before the leaves burn.
A new country every day, from every cuisine on the site.
Bara brith means 'speckled bread', and this is the fruit loaf of Welsh farmhouses and tea rooms from Snowdonia to the Gower. Dried fruit is soaked overnight in strong black tea, then mixed with sugar, egg, flour and spice, so it is moist, dark and keeps well without any butter in the mix. Slice it thickly and spread with salted Welsh butter. Chef's tip: wrap it and wait a day before cutting; it gets stickier and slices cleaner.
At every Asturian romería, the summer pilgrim fairs held in meadows from Llanes to Cangas del Narcea, stalls sell bollos preñaos by the dozen, warm from the oven, to eat with cider on the grass. The name means "pregnant buns": each soft roll carries a chorizo inside, and its paprika fat seeps into the crumb as it bakes. This contains pork (chorizo). Chef's tip: use semi-cured chorizo sausages that are already safe to eat; raw fresh chorizo may not cook through inside the dough.
Fegato alla veneziana is one of the oldest dishes in Venice and still a weekday staple in the trattorie around the Rialto market. Mountains of onions are cooked gently until soft and sweet, then thin strips of calf's liver are tossed through them for barely two minutes, so the liver stays tender against the jammy onions, with a splash of vinegar and parsley to finish. The classic partner is soft white or yellow polenta, which soaks up the buttery juices. Chef's tip: slice the liver into thin strips, no thicker than your little finger, so it cooks through in moments without going tough.
Asturias has two great loves at table, the fish landed at ports like Cudillero and Avilés and the cider pressed from its orchards, and merluza a la sidra brings them together. Families cook it for Sunday lunch, the hake settled on a bed of soft onion and potato with cider poured over, until the sauce turns sweet-sharp. The cider is alcoholic; cloudy apple juice with a little cider vinegar makes a good alcohol-free swap. Chef's tip: add the hake only when the potatoes are nearly tender, so the fish stays juicy.
Fariñes, or farrapes in some valleys, fed Asturian farming families through the winter: a pot of maize meal stirred over the fire, eaten for breakfast or as a light supper with cold milk poured over the hot porridge. Today it is comfort food again, offered at rural guesthouses in the Oriente and made at home when the weather turns. The contrast of warm, soft porridge and cold milk is the whole point. Chef's tip: whisk the cornmeal into cold water before it heats so it never forms lumps.
In the Savoyard valleys, especially around Albertville and the Val d'Arly, farçon was the Sunday dish left to cook slowly while the family was at Mass: grated potatoes mixed with eggs, cream, prunes and raisins, set in a tall mould and cooked for hours in a water bath. The result is a sliceable, sweet-and-savoury cake, soft and golden, served with a green salad or as a side at a winter feast. Traditionally the mould is lined with bacon; this version uses a buttered mould instead, so it is vegetarian. Chef's tip: let it rest for 15 minutes in the mould before turning it out; it firms up and slices cleanly.
No sidrería in Oviedo's Calle Gascona is without a clay dish of chorizo bubbling in cider, served with bread to mop up the paprika-red juices. It takes minutes, is cheap, and is the first thing ordered while the waiter pours cider from shoulder height. This contains pork (chorizo) and uses dry Asturian cider, which is alcoholic; for an alcohol-free version use cloudy apple juice with a splash of cider vinegar, as noted below. Chef's tip: prick the chorizo all over first so it releases fat into the cider and drinks the cider back in.
Estocaficada is the old winter dish of Nice's port and old town, where Norwegian stockfish arrived in exchange for olive oil and wine centuries ago; it is still cooked for family Friday lunches and at the city's food festivals. Air-dried cod is rehydrated and stewed slowly with tomatoes, onions, peppers, black olives and potatoes, giving a rich, rust-red stew with a deep, almost meaty flavour. True stockfish is hard to find outside specialist shops and needs 4–5 days of soaking, so this recipe uses salt cod, which is easier and gives a gentler result; the note explains both. Serve in deep plates with crusty bread for the sauce. Chef's tip: add the cod at the end and keep it at a gentle simmer so it stays in juicy flakes rather than turning rubbery.
Easter Sunday in the Minho means cabrito: young goat rubbed with garlic, paprika and lard, soaked overnight in white wine and roasted until the meat falls from the bone. Families in Arcos de Valdevez and Monção serve it with roast potatoes and a tray of rice baked in the meat juices. This contains pork (lard and smoked bacon) and uses wine; an alcohol-free option is in the ingredient note. Chef's tip: baste every 20 minutes, as kid is lean and dries out quickly without it.
Llama herds have grazed the Puna of Jujuy for thousands of years, and in Purmamarca, Tilcara and Humahuaca restaurants now proudly serve their meat to visitors, most often as a slow estofado. The meat is very lean, dark red and mild, a little like venison, and it is braised with onion, red pepper, tomato, cumin, ají molido and a sprig of muña or oregano until tender, then served with Andean potatoes, quinoa or rice. Outside the Andes, llama is sold by a few specialist game and alpaca farms; lean venison or beef topside are the closest substitutes. Treat it like beef and braise it until fork-tender. Because the meat has almost no fat, the common mistake is cooking it at a rolling boil, which makes it dry and stringy: keep the heat low and the lid on. Chef's tip: dust the meat lightly with a little cornflour before browning; it protects the lean pieces and thickens the sauce without making it heavy.
Late-night students at Largo do Paissandu in São Paulo invented the Bauru in the 1930s, named after the nickname of the friend who ordered it, and the bar where it was born still makes it the original way. A French roll has its crumb pulled out so it is all crust, then it is stuffed with thin warm roast beef, a pool of cheese melted in a bain-marie until it stretches, slices of tomato and pickled cucumber, with a pinch of oregano. It is hot, tangy, juicy and stringy. Plenty of snack bars around the country use ham instead, but beef is the classic. The thing that ruins it is cheese melted straight in a dry pan, which goes oily; melting it slowly over water with a splash of milk keeps it smooth and elastic. Chef's tip: warm the roast beef in a little of its own juices or stock, just until hot, so it stays pink and tender.
Baumkuchen is the king of German cakes, and the little town of Salzwedel in Saxony-Anhalt has baked it on a turning spit over an open flame for two centuries; in December, Baumkuchenspitzen, chocolate-dipped triangles of it, fill the shelves before Christmas. Without a spit you can build it at home in a tin under the grill, one thin layer at a time, and each slice shows the golden rings of a tree. The mistake people make is spreading the batter too thickly, which gives fewer, stodgy layers that cook unevenly; aim for 2 tablespoons at a time. Chef's tip: stand by the oven; each layer turns from pale to burnt within a minute once it browns.
Biscuits and gravy is the working breakfast of the rural South and Appalachia, served at truck stops in Tennessee and diners in the Virginia mountains: fresh biscuits split open and smothered in a thick white 'sawmill' gravy made from crumbled pork sausage, its fat, flour, milk and plenty of black pepper. Chef's tip: don't drain the sausage fat; it is what thickens and flavours the gravy.
Every December, kitchens across the Beiras fill with the smell of these broas: soft, cakey cookies made with mashed sweet potato, flour, olive oil and honey, spiced with cinnamon and fennel seed and glazed with egg yolk. Families bake big batches to share with neighbours and keep in tins over the holidays. They are only lightly sweet, with a tender crumb and a shiny top. Chef's tip: dry the cooked sweet potato in the pan for a minute before mashing, as watery mash makes a sticky dough that spreads.
Order 'um pingado' at the balcão of any São Paulo padaria at 7 in the morning and the attendant pours hot milk into a ridged glass tumbler (the copo americano) and 'drips' in a splash of strong coffee, hence the name. It is milkier and gentler than a média (half coffee, half milk), creamy and lightly sweet, usually drunk standing up with a pão na chapa, a toasted buttered roll. At home you need strong filter coffee and milk heated until steaming. Scalding the milk is the frequent mistake, as boiled milk tastes flat and forms a skin. Chef's tip: froth the hot milk for a few seconds with a whisk or by pouring it back and forth between two jugs before adding the coffee, as padaria machines do.
Bauernbrot, the farmer's loaf, is the everyday bread of village bakeries from the Black Forest to Lower Saxony, carried home in a paper bag every Saturday and eaten all week for Abendbrot, the cold evening meal of bread, cheese and pickles. It mixes rye and wheat roughly half and half, so the crumb is moist and tangy but still springy, under a thick, crackled crust dusted with flour. The flavour deepens over two or three days. A common mistake is baking at too low a heat, which gives a pale, soft crust; the oven should be properly hot at the start. Chef's tip: prove the loaf upside down in a floured basket or bowl lined with a floured cloth, so the top cracks into the classic crazy-paving pattern when you tip it out.
Batzina is the lazy pie of Thessaly and the Pelion villages, the one you make in summer when courgettes are taking over the garden and nobody wants to roll filo. Grated courgette and feta are mixed with a thin batter of flour, cornmeal, milk and eggs, poured into an oiled tin and baked until the top is cracked and golden and the inside soft and savoury, like a crustless quiche. It travels well to the beach. Feta is usually made with animal rennet; choose a vegetarian feta-style cheese if needed. Common mistake: skipping the squeezing — watery courgettes make a soggy pie. Chef's tip: sprinkle cornmeal over the oiled tin before pouring in; it gives a crisp base.
Long after the meat comes off, the fire of an Argentine asado still has work to do. Sweet potatoes pushed into the glowing embers (el rescoldo) at the start of the cook come out an hour later with charred, papery skins and flesh that is soft, sticky and almost caramelised, with a smoky edge. They are split open at the table, filled with butter and coarse salt and eaten as a side to the asado or as supper by the fire on a camping trip. Burying them in live flames is the trap: the skin blackens right through while the inside stays hard, so wait for a bed of settled embers and ash. Wrapping them in foil gives softer skins and less risk if you are new to it, and an oven at 200 °C does a fine job indoors. Chef's tip: choose sweet potatoes of the same thickness, around 250 g each, so they cook evenly together.
Sea and mountain: the cooks of the Empordà, between the Pyrenees and the Costa Brava, have long put chicken and seafood in one pot, and this version with prawns is the one most families make for a celebration lunch. The sauce is a dark sofrito finished with a picada of almonds, hazelnuts, garlic and a little dark chocolate, which adds depth rather than sweetness. It uses wine; the alcohol-free option is in the ingredient list. Chef's tip: cook the prawns only briefly at the start and return them at the end, so they stay juicy while the chicken braises.
Fried catfish is the Friday night fish-fry and Delta church supper of Mississippi and Arkansas, where much of America's catfish is farmed. Fillets are soaked in seasoned milk or buttermilk, rolled in cornmeal and fried until the crust crackles and the mild, sweet fish inside flakes apart. Serve with hushpuppies, slaw and lemon. Chef's tip: cut thick fillets in half lengthways so they cook in the same time as the crust browns.
Order bacalhau na brasa in a Minho tasca and it arrives with these: small potatoes roasted in their skins on a bed of coarse salt, given a sharp punch to split them, then soaked in hot olive oil and garlic. The skins go crisp and salty while the flesh turns fluffy and drinks up the oil. They are just as good next to grilled sardines in June or a roast chicken on Sunday. Chef's tip: pick potatoes the size of a hen's egg so they cook through before the skins burn.
On summer evenings in Tehran, queues form outside old ice-cream shops for bastani sonnati, scooped between two thin wafers or into a glass beside faloodeh. The custard is rich with egg yolks and coloured deep gold with saffron, perfumed with rosewater and studded with pistachios and little shards of frozen cream that melt on the tongue. This home version uses an ice-cream machine or a fork-and-freezer method. Chef's tip: freeze the cream chips in a thin sheet the day before, so they are hard enough to stay as separate shards when folded in.
Casoncelli (casonsei in Bergamo dialect) are the pride of the old upper town of Bergamo and of nearby Brescia, eaten at weddings, village festivals and Sunday lunch. The filling is a thrifty mix of pork sausage, leftover beef, breadcrumbs and grana, perfumed with a crushed amaretto biscuit, a few raisins and a little pear, so it tastes faintly sweet and savoury at once. The folded half-moons are pressed into a little saddle shape and served in plenty of butter with sage and crisp cubes of pancetta, which makes this a pork dish twice over. A green salad is all they need afterwards. Chef's tip: cook the sausage filling first and let it cool completely; warm filling makes the pasta soggy and hard to seal.
On the night of 31 October and on All Saints' Day, families across La Mancha make sweet gachas: flour toasted in olive oil with aniseed, loosened with milk and sugar into a soft cream, and topped with crisp cubes of fried bread. Each person dips a spoon into the communal dish while the season's first cold nights settle in. Chef's tip: toast the flour in the oil until it smells nutty before adding any milk; raw flour tastes pasty.
Baslogh is one of the soft confections that fill the sweet shops of Tabriz's covered bazaar, especially before Nowruz and at Ramadan: a pale, wobbly slab of starch cooked in rose-scented syrup, studded with walnuts, cut into squares and dusted so it does not stick. It is related to Turkish lokum but softer and less sweet, eaten with tea in the afternoon. A common mistake is stopping the cooking too early; undercooked baslogh never sets and weeps syrup. Chef's tip: cook until the paste turns translucent and pulls away from the pan in one mass, which takes longer than you expect.
Morretes and Antonina, the little colonial towns at the foot of Paraná's Serra do Mar, are famous for barreado: beef layered with smoked bacon, onion, garlic, cumin and bay in a clay pot, sealed with a paste of cassava flour and water, and cooked for many hours until it falls into soft, dark strands in a rich broth. It was a Carnival dish, left on the fire so revellers could eat without cooking, and today the restaurants along the Rio Nhundiaquara serve it every day. This recipe contains pork, in the bacon that gives the broth its smokiness. At the table you put cassava flour on your plate, ladle over hot broth and stir it into a soft pirão, then add the meat and slices of banana. The common mistake is opening the pot to check, which lets the steam out and toughens the meat; trust the seal and the oven. A heavy cast-iron casserole works if you have no clay pot. Chef's tip: use two cuts, a lean one and a gelatinous one like shin, for broth with real body.
Every 15 May, crowds head to the Pradera de San Isidro on Madrid's southern edge for the patron saint's festival, and stalls sell rosquillas by the dozen: plain "tontas" (silly ones) and iced "listas" (clever ones). Many families now bake them at home that week. Old recipes ice the listas with raw egg white; this one uses a lemon and icing-sugar glaze, which is safer and sets just as white. Chef's tip: oil your hands to shape the rings; the dough is soft and sticky by design.
Order a barraquito in any café in Santa Cruz de Tenerife or La Laguna and it comes in a small glass showing neat stripes: sweet condensed milk at the bottom, then espresso, then foamed milk, perfumed with lemon peel and cinnamon. The bar classic adds a measure of a vanilla-citrus Spanish liqueur between the layers, which makes it contain alcohol; this recipe leaves it optional, and without it the drink is often called a zaperoco or barraquito sin licor. Chef's tip: pour each layer slowly over the back of a spoon, so the layers sit on top of each other instead of mixing.
Barmbrack is the speckled fruit loaf eaten in Ireland at Halloween, when a ring wrapped in baking paper is baked inside, and whoever finds it is said to marry within the year. This is the quick tea brack version made all over Connacht and Munster, with the dried fruit soaked overnight in strong tea so the loaf is dark, moist and fragrant with mixed spice. Serve sliced and buttered with a cup of tea. Chef's tip: soak the fruit for a full night; short soaking gives dry, chewy fruit.
In summer, harbour tavernas from Naxos to Paros fry small red mullet whole, dusted in flour and crackling in olive oil, and bring them to the table with lemon, a horiatiki salad and bread. The skin turns crisp and rosy-gold while the flesh stays sweet and delicate, and islanders eat the little ones bones and all. Common mistake: crowding the pan, which drops the oil temperature so the fish soaks up oil and goes soggy. Chef's tip: ask the fishmonger to scale and gut the mullet but leave the heads on; they hold the fish together and are the tastiest part for many Greeks.
Barbajuans are Monaco's national snack, little fried pastry pockets of chard, leek and ricotta that come out at every apéritif, and by the hundred on 19 November, the principality's National Day. The name is said to mean 'Uncle John' in the Monegasque dialect, after the cook who first made them. You will also find them in bakeries in Menton and along the Riviera towards Nice. Parmesan usually contains animal rennet; a vegetarian hard cheese works just as well. Chef's tip: roll the dough so thin you can almost see the worktop through it; thick pastry turns chewy instead of crisp.
Barazek are the cookies Damascene families bring out for Eid and to go with an afternoon glass of tea: thin, crisp and buttery, with a glassy crust of sesame seeds held on with honey on top and a scattering of chopped pistachios pressed into the bottom. They are made by the tin-load in Damascus sweet shops and keep for weeks. Common mistake: using untoasted sesame — they should be lightly toasted before going on, or the cookies taste raw. Chef's tip: dip the sesame side into the honey syrup and then the seeds, not the other way round; you get an even, shiny layer that bakes to amber.
Unlike Italian potato gnocchi, the Paris version is made from choux paste flavoured with cheese and mustard, piped straight into simmering water and cut into little logs with a knife. The poached dumplings go into a dish with béchamel and more cheese and are baked until puffed and golden. It was a classic of old Parisian brasseries and grand-hotel kitchens and still turns up as a comforting supper or a side in bistros. Gruyère and Comté are traditionally made with animal rennet, so use a vegetarian mountain cheese. Chef's tip: dip the knife in hot water between cuts; the paste drops off cleanly instead of stretching into strings.
Dublin Bay prawns are not prawns at all but langoustines, the small orange lobsters landed at Howth and Clogherhead and once sold off the boats along the north Dublin coast. Seafood bars in Howth serve them split and grilled under a sizzling garlic, lemon and parsley butter, with brown bread to mop the plate. Chef's tip: they cook in minutes, so take them out as soon as the flesh turns from translucent to white.
Welsh rarebit, caws pobi in Welsh, is far more than cheese on toast: a thick sauce of strong cheese, mustard, Worcestershire-style sauce and ale is spread on toast and grilled until bubbling and blistered. It has been a tavern supper in Wales and across Britain for three hundred years. The ale contains alcohol, so use milk for an alcohol-free version. Many traditional cheddars use animal rennet, and Worcestershire sauce usually contains anchovy, so choose a vegetarian cheese and a vegetarian brown sauce. Chef's tip: take the sauce off the heat as soon as the cheese melts; boiling makes it stringy and oily.
Glamorgan sausages, selsig Morgannwg, are a meat-free Welsh classic from the old county of Glamorgan in South Wales, made since at least the 1800s and praised by George Borrow on his tour of Wales. Crumbly Caerphilly cheese, leek and fresh breadcrumbs are bound with egg, rolled into sausages, crumbed and fried until crisp and golden. Traditional Caerphilly is often made with animal rennet; look for a vegetarian one. Chef's tip: chill the shaped sausages for 30 minutes before frying so they hold together.
Anglesey eggs, wyau Ynys Môn, is a farmhouse supper from the island of Anglesey off North Wales: leeky mashed potato piped round halved hard-boiled eggs, covered with cheese sauce and baked until golden. It is cheap, filling and comforting, the kind of dish made on a wet weeknight with what the farm had. Use a vegetarian hard cheese, as traditional cheddar can contain animal rennet. Chef's tip: cool the boiled eggs in cold water straight away so the yolks stay yellow without a grey ring.
Roast beef is the heart of the English Sunday lunch, and in Yorkshire it comes with puddings, roast potatoes and a jug of gravy made from the pan juices. A beef joint is seared in a hot oven, then roasted more gently and rested so it slices juicy and pink, with crisp, well-seasoned edges. Serve with Yorkshire puddings, horseradish and greens. Chef's tip: rest the meat for at least 20 minutes under foil; carved straight away, its juices run all over the board.
This is a raised pork pie in the style of Melton Mowbray in Leicestershire, the hunting town whose pies were carried in saddle bags; only pies made in the area may use the town's name, so this is our home version. Chopped, uncured pork shoulder and belly, peppered and spiced with mace, is packed into a crisp hot water crust made with lard, baked with bowed sides, then filled with a savoury jelly. Eat it cold with English mustard and pickle at picnics or on Boxing Day. Chef's tip: work the pastry while it is still warm; as it cools it cracks.
The Cumberland sausage is a long, unlinked coil of coarse, peppery pork sausage from the old county of Cumberland in the Lake District, cooked whole and cut at the table. With buttery mash and a slow onion gravy it's the pub and family supper of the North West. Chef's tip: cook the coil gently in the oven, held flat with skewers, so it doesn't split and stays juicy.
The balti was born in the 1970s in the Pakistani and Kashmiri restaurants of Sparkbrook and Balsall Heath in Birmingham, an area still called the Balti Triangle. It is cooked fast in a thin steel bowl over fierce heat, so the sauce is reduced and the peppers keep some bite, and it is served sizzling in the same bowl and scooped up with a huge naan. Chef's tip: make the base sauce first and keep the final cook hot and quick; slow simmering turns it into a stew.
On the wide sands of Morecambe Bay in Lancashire, tiny brown shrimps have been caught by tractor and horse-drawn nets for centuries, boiled on the boats and picked by hand. Potted in butter flavoured with mace, nutmeg and cayenne, they are a classic English starter, served with hot toast so the butter melts. Buy shrimps ready cooked and peeled. Chef's tip: warm the shrimps in the butter only briefly; boiling them makes them tough and rubbery.
In the tiny harbour village of Craster on the Northumberland coast, herring have been split and oak-smoked in the same smokehouse for over a century, and kippers are the classic English breakfast fish in seaside hotels and on dining cars. A kipper is cold-smoked but not cooked, so it must be heated through; grilled with butter it turns rich, salty and smoky. Serve with brown bread and butter, a poached egg or a squeeze of lemon. Chef's tip: grill them skin-side up first so the skin crisps and the flesh stays juicy.
The parmo is Middlesbrough's own takeaway dish, said to have been created by an American soldier who settled on Teesside after the Second World War, and it's sold in boxes with chips across the town on a Friday night. A flattened, breaded chicken breast is fried, then covered with white sauce and a thick layer of cheese and grilled until bubbling. Chef's tip: bash the chicken to an even 1 cm, so it cooks through before the crumb burns.
Steak and kidney pudding is the steamed suet pie of old English chop houses and Northern family kitchens, the kind of dish that filled up mill workers through Lancashire winters. Beef and lamb's kidney in rich gravy are sealed in a basin lined with suet pastry and steamed for hours until the crust is soft and the filling falls apart. Chef's tip: cook the filling first; it gives tender meat and a crust that isn't soggy.
Liver and onions is a café and works-canteen classic across the North and the Midlands, cheap, quick and full of iron, eaten with mash and a dollop of gravy. Thin slices of calf's or lamb's liver are fried briefly in butter after the onions have turned slow and sweet. Chef's tip: soak the liver in milk for 30 minutes if you find its flavour strong; it softens the taste.
Beef and ale pie is the pub supper of Yorkshire and the Midlands, where brewing towns like Burton upon Trent made a dark ale gravy part of the region's cooking. Chuck steak is braised slowly in ale with onions and mushrooms until tender, then topped with flaky pastry. This recipe contains alcohol, most of which cooks off; for an alcohol-free pie use the same amount of beef stock with 1 tablespoon of malt vinegar and a teaspoon of brown sugar. Chef's tip: let the filling cool before topping, so the pastry stays crisp and puffy.
Pie, mash and liquor is the working-class lunch of the East End of London, served in tiled pie shops from Bethnal Green to Walthamstow since the 1800s. Small minced beef pies with a soft suet-style base and a crisp puff lid sit next to a scoop of smooth mash, all flooded with liquor, a thin, bright green parsley sauce. Pie shops make the liquor with the stock from stewed eels; this version uses fish or vegetable stock. Locals add chilli vinegar. Chef's tip: keep the liquor thin and pourable, like single cream, not thick like gravy.
Roast leg of lamb is the Easter Sunday lunch of England, when spring lamb from the South Downs and the West Country comes in, served with roast potatoes, spring greens and a jug of mint sauce. The sauce is the English twist: chopped garden mint steeped in vinegar and a little sugar, sharp enough to cut the richness of the meat. Chef's tip: make the mint sauce an hour ahead so the vinegar mellows and the mint flavour comes out.
Beef Wellington is the grand centrepiece of British Christmas and celebration dinners, a whole beef fillet coated in finely chopped mushroom duxelles, wrapped in thin pancakes or ham and golden puff pastry, then sliced at the table to show a pink middle. It is linked, without much proof, to the Duke of Wellington. This version wraps the fillet in crêpes instead of the usual Parma ham. The duxelles is deglazed with a splash of white wine, which contains alcohol; use a little stock for an alcohol-free version. Chef's tip: chill the wrapped fillet before it goes in the pastry so everything stays tight and the base doesn't go soggy.
The Scotch egg was sold as a travelling snack by the London grocer Fortnum & Mason in the 1700s, and it is still the picnic and pub-counter favourite of England: a boiled egg wrapped in pork sausage meat, crumbed and fried. Modern pubs serve them with a runny yolk and a dollop of piccalilli or mustard. Chef's tip: boil the eggs for exactly 6½ minutes and plunge into iced water; that sets the white enough to peel but leaves the yolk soft.
Coronation chicken was invented for the banquet of Queen Elizabeth II's coronation in 1953 by the Cordon Bleu school in London, and it became the filling of choice for jacket potatoes, wedding buffets and garden party sandwiches across England. Poached chicken is folded through a creamy, mildly spiced sauce of mayonnaise, curry paste, apricot and yoghurt. Chef's tip: poach the chicken very gently and cool it in its liquid so it stays juicy.
Kedgeree came to Britain with families returning from colonial India, who adapted khichri into a breakfast of buttery curried rice, flaked smoked haddock and boiled eggs; it was served from silver dishes at Victorian country house breakfasts and is now a weekend brunch. It is gently spiced, smoky and soft. Chef's tip: poach the haddock in the milk you then use for nothing else, and cook the rice in the poaching water for more smoky flavour.
Fish pie is a Friday supper and a family favourite from the Kent coast to Devon, where fishmongers sell a ready-cut 'fish pie mix' for it. Chunks of white fish, smoked haddock and prawns are baked in a creamy parsley sauce under a thick crust of buttery mash, so it is mild, comforting and very filling. Chef's tip: don't pre-cook the fish; it finishes in the oven and stays in big, juicy flakes.
Gammon, egg and chips is the great English pub and transport-café dinner, on the menu from roadside diners on the A1 to Devon seaside pubs. A thick steak of cured pork gammon is grilled until the fat crisps, then topped with a fried egg or a ring of pineapple (or both), next to chunky chips and peas. Chef's tip: snip the fat around the edge every 2 cm before cooking so the steak stays flat.
Cioppino was cooked by Italian and Portuguese fishermen in San Francisco's North Beach in the late 1800s from whatever was left of the day's catch, and it is now the big, messy, bib-wearing dinner of Fisherman's Wharf, especially in Dungeness crab season from November. The broth is tomato, garlic, herbs and white wine; for an alcohol-free version, use extra fish stock with a tablespoon of white wine vinegar. Serve with sourdough to mop it up. Chef's tip: add the seafood in stages, slowest-cooking first, so nothing turns rubbery.
In the Santa Maria Valley on California's Central Coast, ranchers' barbecues over red oak fires gave the state its own style: a triangular tri-tip roast of beef rubbed simply with salt, pepper and garlic, grilled until crusty, then sliced thin. It comes with pinquito beans, salsa and garlic bread at fundraisers and Saturday roadside barbecues. Chef's tip: tri-tip's grain changes direction in the middle, so cut the roast in two where the grain turns and slice each piece across its own grain.
Sit down at a café terrace in Casablanca, Rabat or Marrakech and order a 'nous-nous' (from 'nus', half) and you will get a small glass of half espresso, half steamed milk, often layered so the coffee floats in a dark band over the pale milk with a cap of foam. It is the default morning and afternoon coffee for many Moroccans, sipped slowly while watching the street, usually with a sugar lump or two on the saucer. It is smaller and stronger than a latte and milkier than a macchiato. A moka pot works fine at home if you have no espresso machine. Chef's tip: heat the milk only to 60–65 °C, hot to the touch but not scalding; boiled milk loses its sweetness and the foam collapses, a common mistake.
Crab Louie was on the menus of San Francisco's grand hotels and wharf restaurants by the early 1900s and is still a winter lunch when Dungeness crab is in season. Sweet crab meat is heaped on crisp lettuce with hard-boiled eggs, tomato, asparagus and avocado, and covered with a creamy, tangy pink dressing. Chef's tip: keep the crab in big pieces and add the dressing at the table, so the salad stays crisp.
Musubi is Hawaii's favourite grab-and-go snack, sold wrapped in cling film by the till in every convenience store from Honolulu to Hilo and packed for beach days and school lunches. A slice of tinned pork luncheon meat is fried in a sweet soy glaze, set on a block of rice and belted with a strip of nori, a Japanese rice-ball idea adapted after the Second World War. Chef's tip: wet the mould and your hands so the rice doesn't stick, and press firmly so the block holds.
The shrimp trucks parked along Kamehameha Highway in Kahuku, on Oʻahu's North Shore, serve this on paper plates to surfers and day-trippers: shell-on prawns from the local farms fried in a heap of garlic and butter until the shells are crisp enough to eat, with two scoops of rice and lemon. Chef's tip: dust the prawns in a little cornflour before frying; it helps the garlic butter cling and the shells crisp.
Saimin was born in the sugar plantation camps of Hawaii, where Chinese, Japanese and Filipino workers shared pots and combined their noodle soups into one, and it is still sold everywhere from old Kauaʻi diners to the snack bars at Little League games. Springy wheat noodles sit in a clear dashi and shrimp broth, topped with sliced char siu (roast pork), pink fish cake, egg and spring onion. Chef's tip: cook the noodles separately and rinse them, so their starch doesn't cloud the clear broth.
Piccalilli is the bright yellow pickle of the English ploughman's lunch, the Boxing Day cold cuts and the cheese board, and it has been made in farmhouse kitchens since the 18th century, when Indian pickles inspired it. Crunchy cauliflower, beans and onions are salted, then folded into a sweet, sharp sauce of mustard, turmeric and vinegar. Chef's tip: salt the vegetables overnight; it draws out water and keeps them crunchy for months.
The Christmas pudding is the dark, fruit-packed pudding that ends Christmas dinner in English homes, traditionally mixed on Stir-up Sunday in late November when every family member stirs and makes a wish. This one uses vegetarian suet and is soaked with brandy or stout, so it contains alcohol; for an alcohol-free pudding use the same amount of strong black tea or orange juice. It is set alight at the table with warmed brandy (skip that for alcohol-free) and served with brandy butter or custard. Chef's tip: steam it again for 2 hours on the day; the second steaming darkens and enriches it.
Curd tart is the Yorkshire tea-shop tart that was made at Whitsuntide, when farms had more milk than they could drink and turned it into fresh curds. The filling of curd cheese, eggs, currants and a good pinch of allspice is set in shortcrust, so it is creamy, slightly grainy and lightly spiced, a cousin of cheesecake. Market cafés from York to Ripon still sell it by the slice. Chef's tip: use proper curd cheese or well-drained ricotta; soft cream cheese makes it heavy and smooth instead of crumbly.
Fat rascals are big, rough, fruit-studded cakes from the North York Moors, halfway between a scone and a rock cake, and the famous Harrogate tea rooms made them a visitor's treat. Each one gets a face of glacé cherries and blanched almonds before baking. Eat them warm, split and buttered, with a pot of tea. Chef's tip: work the dough as little as possible, just until it holds; overmixed rascals bake up tough.
From the town of Eccles near Manchester, these flat pastry cakes are filled with butter-soaked currants and peel, slashed three times on top and baked until sugary and crackly. Lancashire people eat them with a slice of crumbly Lancashire cheese, the sweet and salty pairing locals swear by. Chef's tip: chill the filled cakes for 20 minutes before baking, so the pastry stays flaky and the filling doesn't leak.
This is the pie of the Lancashire chippy and the Bolton market stall, a vegetarian staple of the North West long before the word was common. Sliced onions and potato are softened, then mixed with plenty of crumbly Lancashire cheese and baked in shortcrust until the filling is creamy and tangy. Traditional Lancashire is usually made with animal rennet, so choose a vegetarian Lancashire or a vegetarian crumbly cheese. Serve with mushy peas or beans. Chef's tip: let the onions cool before mixing in the cheese, or it melts into oil before the pie is baked.
Sticky toffee pudding was made famous by a country hotel and a village shop in the Lake District, and Cumbria still claims it, though it now ends Sunday lunch in pubs across Britain. A soft, dark sponge made with soaked dates is soaked in a buttery brown-sugar sauce and served with more sauce, plus cream, custard or vanilla ice cream. Chef's tip: poke holes in the hot sponge and pour on a third of the sauce, so it soaks right in.
The village of Grasmere in the Lake District has sold its own gingerbread since the 1850s, a cross between shortbread and a biscuit with a crumbly top and chewy base, wrapped in paper for walkers and visitors to Wordsworth's grave. The real recipe is a closely kept secret; this is our home version, made with oatmeal, brown sugar and plenty of ground ginger. Chef's tip: press only the bottom half of the crumb mixture firmly and scatter the rest loosely on top, which gives the two textures.
Pease pudding is the thick yellow split pea spread of Newcastle and the North East, eaten in a stottie cake with ham or simply with buttered bread, and the 'pease pudding hot, pease pudding cold' of the nursery rhyme. It was traditionally boiled in a cloth beside a ham; this plant-based version is simmered with onion, bay and a little smoked paprika for the savoury depth. Chef's tip: soak the split peas overnight; unsoaked peas take hours and cook unevenly.
The stottie is the big flat round loaf of Tyneside and County Durham, with a dimple pressed in the middle and a dense, chewy crumb; bakers in Newcastle split them and stuff them with pease pudding, cheese or a bacon filling. Its name is said to come from 'stotting', or bouncing, because it is heavy enough to bounce off the floor. Chef's tip: bake it low in the oven so the bottom gets a deep golden colour while the top stays pale.
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