Boudin is a soft Cajun sausage of pork, pork liver, rice and the holy trinity sold hot from the counters of meat markets and petrol stations along Interstate 10 between Lake Charles and Lafayette. Boudin balls take the same filling, roll it in breadcrumbs and fry it, and they are the snack of LSU tailgates and crawfish boils. This recipe uses pork shoulder and pork liver. Chef's tip: chill the rolled balls for 30 minutes before frying so they keep their shape.
A new country every day, from every cuisine on the site.
Cawl is the national dish of Wales, a slow broth of lamb on the bone, swede, carrots, potatoes and leeks that farmhouses kept simmering through the winter, and which is eaten with bread and a hunk of Caerphilly on St David's Day. Many families serve the broth first and the meat and vegetables after, and say cawl tastes best on the second day. Chef's tip: chill it overnight and lift off the fat that sets on top for a cleaner broth.
Brought over the Channel by British soldiers and miners, the welsh rarebit became a fixture of the estaminets of Lille and the Nord, where it is served in its own oval dish: toast soaked in beer, a slice of ham, then a flood of Cheddar melted with more beer and mustard, baked until bubbling and often topped with a fried egg. It is rich, sharp and very filling, with chips and a green salad the usual partners. It contains pork in the form of cooked ham, and uses beer; the notes give an alcohol-free swap. Chef's tip: use a strong, mature Cheddar, because a mild one melts flat and loses all its bite once the beer goes in.
Blindhuhn, "blind hen", is a late-summer pot from the farms of Westphalia and the Münsterland, made when the garden and orchard give green beans, carrots, apples and pears all at once. It is called blind hen because, as farmers joked, even a blind hen finds a grain in it: the pot holds a bit of everything. White beans, vegetables and fruit cook together with smoked streaky bacon into a sweet-savoury one-pot supper. Leave out the bacon and add a spoon of smoked paprika for a vegetarian pot. Chef's tip: add the apples and pears only for the last 15 minutes so they stay in soft pieces instead of melting away.
Backhendl, crumbed fried chicken, was the treat of 19th-century Viennese Sunday outings to the Prater and the wine villages, and it is still the star of Styrian taverns, served with lemon and a lukewarm potato salad glossy with pumpkin seed oil. Chicken pieces on the bone are seasoned with lemon, coated in flour, egg and fine breadcrumbs and fried slowly so the crust puffs and stays crisp while the meat cooks through. Chef's tip: fry at a moderate heat, not a fierce one; bone-in pieces need time for the centre to reach a safe temperature before the crumbs burn.
Manaus starts the day with this sandwich, sold from cafés, street stalls and market counters near the Mercado Adolpho Lisboa. A crusty roll is split, buttered and toasted, then filled with slices of fried pacovã plantain, a slab of melted coalho cheese and shavings of tucumã, an orange Amazon palm fruit with an oily, nutty, slightly earthy flavour. The name plays on 'caboclo', the riverside people of the Amazon, and amazonenses defend it as a symbol of local pride. Frozen tucumã slices are sold in some Brazilian shops; there is no true substitute, though thin slices of ripe avocado give a different but pleasant result. Use a vegetarian coalho or halloumi, as most coalho uses animal rennet. People often add the tucumã to the hot pan, but it should go in cool and raw for its fresh flavour. Chef's tip: fry the plantain until really dark at the edges; its caramel sweetness is what balances the salty cheese and the palm fruit.
From late autumn to early spring, the towns of the Garraf coast, Vilanova i la Geltrú, Sitges and Vilafranca, hold xatonades: festive lunches built round this salad of bitter curly endive dressed with a thick sauce of ñora peppers, almonds, hazelnuts and garlic, and loaded with salt cod, tuna and anchovies. Each town insists its sauce is the true one. Like esqueixada, the cod is often only desalted; it is poached here for safety, since raw cured fish is not for pregnant women, young children or anyone with a weakened immune system. Chef's tip: dress the endive in the sauce with your hands, so every frond is coated before the fish goes on top.
Xerém is coarse-ground maize cooked to a soft, spoonable porridge, an old poor man's food of the eastern Algarve that tasted of whatever the sea or the pig gave that day. Around Tavira and Olhão it is cooked with conquilhas, the little wedge clams raked from the sand bars of the Ria Formosa, so the cornmeal soaks up their salty juices. This contains pork (chouriço and streaky bacon); leave them out for a purely seafood version. Chef's tip: stir the cornmeal into the clam water off the heat, then put it back on, to avoid lumps.
At a Cretan wedding or baptism, the women of the family spend the day before rolling dough so thin you can read through it, winding the strips into roses in hot oil and stacking the crisp spirals on huge platters. Xerotigana shatter at the first bite and then turn sticky with honey, walnuts, sesame and cinnamon. Many village versions add a little raki to the dough for extra crispness; this one uses orange juice and a splash of lemon instead, so it is alcohol-free. Common mistake: rolling the strips too thick, which gives chewy, greasy spirals instead of glassy ones. Chef's tip: use a pasta machine down to the second-thinnest setting, and keep the strips you are not frying under a damp tea towel.
Ximbó comes from the Otomí (Hñähñu) communities of Hidalgo's Valle del Mezquital, where it is cooked for village fiestas: pieces of chicken, and often pork, are coated in a guajillo and pasilla sauce with nopales and onion, wrapped in the thick leaves of the maguey and slow-cooked in a pit oven like barbacoa. The meat comes out tender and juicy, in a concentrated, smoky red sauce. Maguey leaves are almost impossible to buy outside Mexico, so this home version wraps everything in banana leaves and baking paper and steams it on the hob; the pork is optional, but if you use it this becomes a pork dish too. Eat it straight from the parcel with tortillas, salsa and pickled chillies. Chef's tip: pass the banana leaves briefly over a gas flame or hot pan until they turn glossy; they become supple and stop cracking when you fold them.
Cooked for Oxum's feast days in the terreiros of Salvador and on ordinary Sundays in Bahian homes, xinxim de galinha is chicken braised in a thick, golden sauce of ground dried shrimp, peanuts, cashews, ginger and dendê oil. It tastes nutty, a little smoky from the palm oil and quietly savoury from the shrimp, and the sauce clings to the meat rather than pooling. Serve it with white rice, farofa de dendê and a bowl of caruru alongside. One common slip is adding the nut paste too early, so it sticks and scorches before the chicken is cooked; it goes in for the last 15 minutes. Chef's tip: use bone-in thighs and drumsticks rather than breast; they stay juicy through the braise and their gelatine gives the sauce its silky body.
Porto Alegre's lancherias and late-night food trucks press the xis (the Portuguese name for the letter X, which sounds like 'cheese', as in X-burger) on a hot griddle with a heavy lid until a giant round bun is flat, crisp and holding everything together: a beef patty, a fried egg, ham, melted cheese, sweetcorn, peas, lettuce, tomato and lots of mayonnaise. It is huge, messy and much loved after a night out or a football match, usually cut in half and shared. Its pork element is the ham. The common mistake is stacking it too high before pressing, so the fillings slide out; spread them in flat even layers right to the edges. Minced beef must be cooked through to 71 °C with no pink in the middle. Chef's tip: press the assembled sandwich under a heavy pan with a weight on top if you have no sandwich press, and turn it once.
Yakhnet bazella is weekday food in almost every Lebanese household: cubes of lamb (or beef) simmered until tender with peas, carrots and tomato, with a last-minute hit of garlic and coriander, ladled over buttery vermicelli rice. Mothers in Beirut make it with frozen peas in winter and fresh ones in spring; children love its sweetness. Common mistake: adding the peas with the meat — they turn grey and mushy; put them in for the last 10 minutes. Chef's tip: brown the meat in small batches so it really sears; that browned base is where the stew's flavour comes from.
Yatimcheh means 'little orphan', the joke being that this Isfahan stew has no meat to look after it. Cooks in Isfahan and the towns around Kashan make it in late summer when aubergines are glossy and cheap, frying them until silky and then letting them collapse into onion, garlic, turmeric and ripe tomato. It is eaten warm with plain rice or torn lavash, with a bowl of yogurt and a plate of herbs on the side. A common mistake is frying the aubergine pale: it needs a deep golden colour or the stew tastes flat and spongy. Chef's tip: a spoon of verjuice or lemon juice stirred in at the very end lifts the sweetness of the tomato.
Named for the high summer pastures of Anatolia, yayla çorbası is the soup that tradesmen's restaurants in Ankara and Kayseri ladle out from morning onwards: soft rice in a silky, gently sour yoghurt broth, finished with a slick of mint butter. It is light enough for breakfast yet filling with bread, and many families make it when someone is unwell. Common mistake: pouring cold yoghurt straight into the boiling pot, which splits it into grainy curds; temper it first with hot liquid and keep the soup below a boil afterwards. Chef's tip: whisk an egg yolk and a spoon of flour into the yoghurt; they stabilise it and give a velvety body.
Inside Ávila's medieval walls, little boxes of yemas are the souvenir every visitor carries home: soft, deep-yellow balls of egg yolk cooked with sugar syrup, rolled in sugar and set in paper cases. They are linked with Saint Teresa, the city's famous nun, and are eaten with coffee after lunch, especially around her feast in October. The yolks are cooked until thick, well past the point that makes them safe. Chef's tip: keep the heat low and never stop stirring; yolks scramble in seconds if they catch.
Parkin is the dark ginger cake that West Yorkshire bakes for the 5th of November, cut into squares and handed round at Bonfire Night fires in Leeds, Halifax and Bradford. It is made with oatmeal, black treacle and golden syrup, so it is dense, chewy and gingery rather than light. It gets better with time, turning stickier after a few days in a tin. Chef's tip: wrap it and keep it for three days before cutting; fresh parkin is dry and crumbly by comparison.
Youvarlakia is the soup Greek mothers, from Tripoli in the Arcadian hills to the Athens suburbs, make for a cold night or anyone feeling under the weather. Little meatballs of beef, rice, onion and herbs poach in a light broth until tender, and the broth is thickened at the end with whisked egg and lemon into a pale, silky avgolemono. It's a meal in a bowl, with bread and feta. Common mistake: boiling the soup after the egg goes in, which curdles it — take the pot off the heat first. Chef's tip: roll the meatballs with wet hands and drop them into simmering, not boiling, broth so they hold together.
Families in Gaziantep spend the day before Kurban Bayramı rolling thousands of chickpea-sized dumplings for yuvalama, the festive yoghurt soup served on the first morning of the holiday. Little balls of rice dough and tiny lamb meatballs simmer with chickpeas and chunks of lamb in a tangy yoghurt broth, finished with mint butter. It is rich, soothing and very much a feast dish, so make it with friends. The most common mistake is adding the yoghurt straight to a boiling pot: it curdles. Chef's tip: whisk an egg yolk and a spoon of flour into the yoghurt and stir it constantly as it comes up to a simmer.
Showing 18 of 7,762 recipes
Show more recipesPage 560 of 863
Indian
Spanish
Italian
American
Chinese
Mexican
Brazilian
Japanese
Persian
British
French
German
Austrian
Portuguese
Greek
Lebanese
Turkish
