Warm chickpeas with garlic and lemon
On winter mornings in Damascus, handcarts with steaming pots of chickpeas park outside schools and offices, and vendors ladle balila into paper cups with a squeeze of lemon and a shake of cumin. In Beirut it is a mezze dish and a light Sunday breakfast, served warm in a shallow bowl with pine nuts and parsley and bread on the side. It is simply chickpeas, cooked until creamy inside, dressed while hot so they soak up the garlic and oil. The usual mistake is dressing cold chickpeas from the fridge; they stay waxy and the flavours sit on the surface. Chef's tip: keep a ladle of the hot cooking water and add it to the dressing; it turns the oil and lemon into a light, clinging sauce.
A new country every day, from every cuisine on the site.
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.
Chitranna, 'colourful rice', is the dish Karnataka mothers make when there is leftover rice and a school tiffin box to fill: cooked rice tossed in a yellow turmeric tempering with roasted peanuts, crunchy dals, green chilli, curry leaves and plenty of lemon. It appears at temple festivals as prasada, on train journeys wrapped in banana leaf, and on every Bengaluru darshini breakfast counter. It tastes even better an hour after it's made, when the lemon has soaked in. Tamil Nadu's elumichai sadam is a close cousin. Chef's tip: spread the rice out on a plate to cool before mixing; warm, steamy rice turns sticky and breaks when you toss it.
Geelrys, or yellow rice, is the bright, faintly sweet rice that comes to the table in the Western Cape with bobotie, curries and Sunday roasts, and at Cape Malay weddings and funerals alike. It is cooked with turmeric, a stick of cinnamon, a little sugar and plump raisins, then finished with a knob of butter so the grains gleam. The sweetness is gentle, just enough to soften a spicy curry. Chef's tip: add the raisins at the start so they plump in the cooking water; added at the end they stay tough and chewy.
The chivito was created in the 1940s at a restaurant in Punta del Este, Uruguay, and became the national sandwich: a soft roll filled with thin, tender steak, ham, melted mozzarella, a fried egg, bacon, lettuce, tomato, olives and mayonnaise. It is eaten in Montevideo's parrillas and corner bars with chips on the side. This sandwich contains pork. The mistake is a thick, chewy steak: use thinly sliced sirloin and sear it fast. Chef's tip: toast the cut sides of the rolls so they stand up to all the juices.
Paris's grand tearooms have served chocolat chaud since the 1800s, and it is nothing like a powdered cocoa drink: dark chocolate is melted into hot milk and cream until it is thick, glossy and rich enough to coat the cup. Parisians drink it in small cups on cold afternoons, often with a pot of whipped cream on the side and a pastry. It is also a winter treat at home after a walk. Use chocolate you'd enjoy eating. Chef's tip: keep the heat low and whisk; letting it boil is the common mistake and the chocolate can turn grainy and catch on the bottom.
Babka grew from the sweet yeasted breads of Polish and Ukrainian Jewish kitchens, and Tel Aviv and New York bakeries turned it into today's showpiece: a rich, buttery dough rolled around dark chocolate, cut open lengthways and twisted so the layers show, then soaked in syrup as it leaves the oven. Israelis buy it for Shabbat afternoon coffee, and a slice keeps its gooey layers for days. It takes time but little skill: an overnight chill makes the soft dough easy to roll. Chef's tip: chill the dough overnight; cold, firm dough rolls thin and twists cleanly instead of smearing the chocolate.
In Chodang village on the edge of Gangneung, tofu houses have curdled soy milk with clean seawater from the East Sea for generations, and the result, chodang sundubu (초당순두부), is served warm in a bowl before it has been pressed: soft, quivering curds in their own pale whey, with a soy dressing to spoon over. It is breakfast and lunch there, eaten with rice, kimchi and a few banchan, and tastes sweet and clean in a way packaged tofu never does. At home, nigari (the mineral salt left from seawater) gives the same effect. Use plain, unsweetened soy milk with at least 7% soy or make your own. Chef's tip: add the nigari off the heat and stir only once or twice; stirring after the curds start to form breaks them into grains.
Gemista is the dish of a Greek August, when tomatoes are cheap, sweet and bursting. Home cooks hollow out the tomatoes and peppers, stir the scooped-out pulp into rice with onions, mint and parsley, and bake everything in one big tray with wedges of potato tucked in between. The vegetables slump and blister, the rice soaks up the tomato juice and olive oil, and the potatoes go sticky at the edges. This vegetarian version is the one most families make in summer and during fasting periods. Serve warm or at room temperature with feta for those who eat dairy and plenty of bread to wipe the tray. Chef's tip: fill the vegetables only three-quarters full; the rice swells as it bakes, and overfilling is the common mistake that splits the tomatoes and leaves the rice hard.
Cholar dal is the festive dal of Bengal, cooked for Durga Puja and weddings and always paired with luchi. Split bengal gram is simmered until soft but whole, then finished with a fragrant tempering of ghee, bay leaf, cinnamon, cardamom and cloves, little fried coconut pieces and plump raisins. It is thick, mildly sweet and warmly spiced rather than hot. Serve with luchi, puri or steamed rice. Chef's tip: fry the coconut slivers until golden before anything else goes in the pan; they stay crisp-chewy and add a toasty sweetness to every spoonful.
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.
Cholera is a Valais pie from the upper Rhône valley, especially the Goms district, filled with layers of potato, leek, apple, pear and mountain cheese under a pastry lid. One story ties the name to the 1830s cholera outbreak, when people stayed home and baked whatever was in the cellar; another to the old Valais word for a coal stove, chola. It is eaten warm or cold, as a Sunday lunch, picnic food or a slice with a green salad, and the sweet fruit against salty cheese and soft leek is the whole point. Some Valais cooks add bacon; this vegetarian version doesn't need it. Use cheese made with vegetarian rennet. Chef's tip: slice the potatoes, apples and pear thinly and evenly (3 mm) so everything cooks through in the time the pastry takes to brown.
Chongqing wakes up to these: thin wheat noodles in a small bowl of red, numbing sauce, eaten standing up at street stalls before work. The noodles are plain; everything happens in the bowl, where chilli oil, Sichuan pepper, garlic water, preserved mustard greens and crushed peanuts are stacked up before the noodles go in. The vegetable version on this page is how most locals order it day to day. Chef's tip: some bought chilli oils are made with beef fat, so check the label or use your own vegetable-oil chilli oil.
Chorba frik is the soup that breaks the fast in Algerian homes every evening of Ramadan, from Algiers to Constantine, and it is just as common in Libya as shorba. Frik is young green wheat, roasted and cracked, which gives the tomato broth a smoky, nutty depth. It usually cooks with lamb; here chickpeas, celery and courgette carry it. Serve with lemon wedges and bread. Chef's tip: add the frik only once the broth is boiling and stir for the first minute, or it sinks and sticks.
Genfo is a very thick barley porridge from the Tigray and Amhara highlands, cooked for breakfast on cold mornings and above all for new mothers, who are given it for weeks after birth to regain strength. The porridge is shaped into a mound, a hollow is made in the middle and filled with niter kibbeh and berbere, and everyone dips spoonfuls of porridge into the spicy butter, often with yoghurt around the edge. For a fasting version, fill the well with spiced oil. Chef's tip: stir with a wooden spoon the whole time you add the flour, and be firm; genfo is meant to be as thick as stiff mashed potato.
Choripán is what fans buy outside football stadiums in Buenos Aires, what the asador hands round while the beef is still cooking, and what stalls sell along Costanera Sur on a Sunday afternoon. This is a pork dish: a fat Argentine-style fresh chorizo (pork, sometimes mixed with beef) is grilled slowly, split open (a mariposa) and tucked into a crusty roll with chimichurri or salsa criolla. That's it, and it doesn't need more. The common mistake is grilling the chorizos too hot, so the skins burst and the centre stays raw; low and slow is the rule. Chef's tip: once cooked, split each chorizo lengthways and give the cut sides 1 minute on the grill so they char a little.
Chotpoti is what Dhaka eats at dusk: vendors ladle it from great brass pots at Dhanmondi Lake and outside every university gate, and during Ramadan it is a fixture of the iftar spread. Dried yellow peas (motor) are simmered with potato until soft and slightly soupy, then served warm under a shower of raw onion, green chilli, grated boiled egg, crushed fuchka shells, roasted cumin and plenty of sour tamarind water. Chef's tip: soak the peas overnight and cook them until some burst and thicken the liquid; chotpoti should be spoonable, halfway between a stew and a salad.
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.
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.
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.
Puff puff is the snack of Nigerian parties, school gates and roadside stalls: a sweet yeast batter scooped by hand into hot oil, where it swells into soft, chewy, golden balls. Across the border in Ghana the same treat is called bofrot (or 'boflot'), often a little larger and spiced with more nutmeg, and sold in clear bags on Accra's streets; we treat them as one dish here. Eat them warm on their own, or with a dusting of sugar. Chef's tip: the batter is ready only when it has doubled and is full of bubbles; under-proved batter gives heavy, greasy balls.
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.
In New Orleans, red beans and rice is what Monday tastes like: the pot used to go on the back of the stove on washday with the ham bone left from Sunday, and plenty of Creole kitchens still cook it on Mondays. This version contains pork: a smoked ham hock and sliced andouille sausage simmer with kidney beans and the 'holy trinity' of onion, celery and green pepper until some beans collapse into a creamy gravy. Serve over white rice with hot sauce and a piece of cornbread. Chef's tip: when the beans are tender, mash a ladleful against the side of the pot; that is what makes them creamy.
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.
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.
Tiramisù ('pick me up') was created in Treviso, in the Veneto, around the 1960s and 70s; the restaurant Le Beccherie is the best-known claimant. The original is simple: savoiardi biscuits dipped in espresso, layered with a cream of egg yolks, sugar and mascarpone, and dusted with cocoa. No alcohol and no cream in the Treviso version, which is different from this site's Baileys tiramisu. It is best made the morning of, or the day before. Because the eggs are raw, use the freshest you can find, or pasteurised eggs. Chef's tip: beat the yolks and sugar for a full 5 minutes until pale and thick as custard; that is what makes the cream light without whipped cream.
Gâteau patate are little half-moon pastries made from mashed sweet potato dough and filled with sweetened grated coconut and cardamom, then fried until golden. They are a teatime treat in Mauritian homes and are sold at markets and fairs, especially around Divali and the end of the year. Chef's tip: use the sweet potatoes while still warm to make the dough; cold mash needs more flour and the gâteaux turn heavy.
Bienmesabe, 'it tastes good to me', is the festive dessert of Cumaná and the eastern Venezuelan coast, made for Christmas, birthdays and first communions. Layers of sponge fingers soaked in sweet wine are spread with a thick, silky coconut cream thickened with egg yolks, then crowned with soft meringue and a dusting of cinnamon. It is rich, tropical and best made a day ahead. Chef's tip: cook the coconut cream gently and stir constantly once the yolks go in; if it boils hard the yolks scramble and it turns grainy.
Chtitha djej is the everyday chicken of Algerian homes from Algiers to Constantine: chicken pieces simmered in a red sauce of paprika, cayenne, garlic and caraway with chickpeas, reduced until thick and clinging. It is mopped up with khobz or matlouh flatbread. The mistake is burning the garlic and paprika when they go into the oil, which turns the sauce bitter; keep the heat moderate and add water as soon as they smell toasted. Chef's tip: add a squeeze of lemon right at the end to brighten the spices.
An easy no-churn ice cream of coconut milk, sweetened condensed milk and evaporated milk, scented with nutmeg or cardamom and a little rose. Whisking it once while it freezes keeps it smooth and fluffy. Garnish with shredded coconut and a sprig of mint.
Alouda is the cold, sweet milk drink sold from stalls in the Port Louis central market and at beaches all over Mauritius, especially on hot afternoons. Vanilla- or rose-scented milk is poured over soaked tookmaria (sweet basil) seeds and cubes of agar jelly, and often topped with a scoop of ice cream. It is a cousin of the Indian falooda. Because the jelly is set with agar agar, it is vegetarian. Chef's tip: soak the basil seeds for a full 20 minutes until each one has a thick, clear coat; dry seeds stick in the throat.
Älplermagronen is what dairymen cooked in the summer huts of central Switzerland, from Uri to the Bernese Oberland, using what they carried up and what the cows gave: pasta, potatoes, cream and their own cheese. Today it is a fixture of mountain restaurants and a quick weeknight supper across German-speaking Switzerland, always eaten with a bowl of warm apple sauce (Apfelmus) on the side, the sweet-sour fruit cutting the rich cheese. Many versions scatter bacon over the top; this one leaves it out and leans on a heap of slow-browned onions for depth. Use cheese made with vegetarian rennet. Chef's tip: cook the potatoes and pasta in the same pot, adding the macaroni once the potatoes are half done, so they finish together and the starchy water helps the sauce cling.
Nanchong, in the hills of north Sichuan, is famous for this snack: a soft, wobbly jelly set from bean starch, cut into thick ribbons and drowned in a red, glossy dressing. Street sellers keep it in big blocks and slice it to order, and people eat it as a mid-afternoon snack or a cold starter on hot days. The jelly itself tastes of almost nothing; the slippery texture and the punchy dressing are the point. Chef's tip: let the jelly set fully in the fridge, ideally overnight, so it is firm enough to cut cleanly but still trembles.
Chuchitos are Guatemala's everyday tamal: small, firm parcels of masa tied in corn husks, sold from steaming pots at markets in Antigua and Guatemala City and eaten on Saturdays with a spoon of tomato sauce and crumbled dry cheese. They're denser than Mexican tamales, with the masa itself tinted by the red recado. Here they're filled with potato, green beans and sweet pepper instead of chicken. Chef's tip: beat the masa until a pinch floats in a glass of water; that air makes them tender rather than stodgy.
Halved mushrooms cooked on the tawa in a rich masala of browned onions, ginger, garlic and puréed tomato, finished with a little cream and dried fenugreek. It's quick, creamy and full of flavour. Serve hot with naan, paratha or bread straight off the barbecue.
This is a pork sandwich. The Cubano was the lunch of cigar workers going between Havana and Tampa, and Miami's Little Havana cafés still press it to order on a hot plancha. Soft Cuban bread is layered with mojo roast pork, boiled ham, Swiss cheese, dill pickles and yellow mustard, then flattened and toasted until the cheese melts and the crust shatters. It is the best use of leftover lechón asado. Drink it with a café cubano. The usual mistake is pressing on too high a heat, which burns the bread before the middle is hot. Chef's tip: butter the outside of the bread, not the inside, and weigh it down with a heavy pan so it crisps evenly.
Mansaf is Jordan's national dish and the centrepiece of its weddings, Eid gatherings and big family days, set down on a huge round tray for everyone to eat from together. Bone-in lamb is simmered until tender in a sauce of jameed, the dried, salted goat's-milk yogurt of the Bedouin, then served on thin shrak bread and turmeric-tinted rice, scattered with almonds and pine nuts and drenched in more of the hot sauce. If you can't find jameed, a mix of thick yogurt and labneh gives a fair stand-in. Chef's tip: stir the yogurt sauce in one direction constantly as it heats, and never let it boil hard before the lamb goes in; that is what keeps it smooth.
A complete barbecue meal on one big tawa: a tangy wheat and vegetable mix with three chutneys, crisp cheesy corn balls, baked stuffed capsicums and creamy cheesy pasta, all sizzling under hot barbecue sauce. Every part can be made ahead and finished on the jiko. It's a healthy and filling meal by itself.
Chambo is a tilapia from Lake Malawi, and fried chambo with nsima (stiff maize porridge) is what visitors to Mangochi, Cape Maclear and Nkhata Bay are served at lakeside lunches. The fish is fried or grilled whole, then topped with a fresh tomato and onion relish; the nsima is pinched off and used to scoop up the fish and juice. The mistake is skipping the relish, which keeps the meal fresh; make it while the fish fries. Chef's tip: any whole tilapia or sea bream works if you can't find chambo.
A simple Swahili dish of tender cassava and sweetcorn simmered in thick coconut milk with green chillies, a little raw mango and lemon. It's creamy, mild and filling. Serve hot as a side or a light meal.
Ghent claims waterzooi as its own, and in the cafés around the Korenmarkt it is served in deep plates as a cross between soup and stew. Originally made with river fish, the city's version today is nearly always chicken, poached gently with leek, carrot, celery and potato, then the broth is enriched with cream and egg yolk until it turns silky and pale gold. It is eaten all year but tastes best on a damp Flemish evening, with crusty bread for the last of the broth. The mistake to avoid is boiling it after the yolks go in, which scrambles them; keep it below a simmer while it thickens. Chef's tip: cut the vegetables into fine, even julienne so they cook in the same time and look neat in the bowl.
Vegetarian seekh kebabs of soya chunks, potato and paneer, spiced with garlic, ginger, green chilli, chaat masala and white pepper, pressed onto skewers and cooked over charcoal until browned. They're meaty in texture and very moreish. Serve with spring onion and yogurt dip or any chutney; they can also be deep fried.
A soft, dimpled focaccia topped with thinly sliced red onion, crumbled paneer and mozzarella, torn basil, chilli flakes and crunchy sea salt, all drizzled with olive oil. It's crisp underneath and airy inside. Cut it into pieces and serve hot alongside barbecue dishes and salads.
Sabudana khichdi is the dish that sees Maharashtra through every vrat (fast), from Navratri to Ekadashi, but it's so good that people eat it any day of the week. Soaked sago pearls are tossed in a pan with crushed roasted peanuts, cubes of potato, cumin and green chilli until each pearl turns glassy and separate, then finished with lemon and coriander. It's soft, chewy, nutty and gently hot. Fasting rules vary from family to family, so check yours; this version uses rock salt and no asafoetida, onion or garlic. Traditionally it's cooked in ghee; use ghee instead of oil if you aren't keeping it vegan. Chef's tip: soak the sago in just enough water to cover by the height of the pearls themselves, no more; too much water is the reason khichdi turns into one sticky lump.
Party skewers of paneer, onion petals, capsicum, tomato, mushroom and cassava, each marinated in a thick, garlicky tandoori yogurt marinade and grilled over charcoal until charred at the edges. Make the marinade the day before and string the skewers just before the barbecue. Serve hot with mint and yogurt chutney.
Soft vegetarian seekh-style kebabs of sweetcorn, kidney beans and potato with fenugreek, spinach, ginger and green chilli, pressed onto skewers and browned over charcoal. They're crisp outside and soft inside. Serve hot with green chutney and mint and yogurt chutney.
Tender peas in their pods tossed with chilli, ginger, garlic and lemon, sealed in foil and steamed on the barbecue. Everyone shells their own at the table and gets the spice on their fingers. Use the youngest, sweetest pods you can find.
A big tawa of potato cubes tossed with a fragrant tempering of mustard, cumin, coriander seeds, aniseed, cloves, cinnamon and black pepper, then onions, ginger, garlic and two kinds of chilli. It's hot, aromatic and great as a barbecue starter. Swap the potatoes for steamed paneer cubes for a change.
Mbaazi wa nazi: soft pigeon peas cooked in thick coconut milk with onion, raw mango, ginger-chilli paste and a pinch of turmeric until creamy. It's mild, rich and comforting. Serve with mamri (mandazi) for the classic Swahili pairing.
Kaimati are bite-size Swahili doughnuts: a yeasted cardamom and coconut batter dropped by the spoonful into hot oil, then dipped in a fragrant saffron, cardamom and rose syrup while still hot. They're crisp outside and soft inside. Serve with tea.
Golden fritters of coarsely ground black-eyed bean and green gram lentils with fenugreek, spinach, coriander, spring onion and chilli. They're crunchy outside and fluffy inside, and they go into Zanzibar mix and Coastal Mombasa mix too. Serve hot with coconut chutney.
Ambasha is the round, slightly sweet festival bread of Tigray and Amhara, baked for holidays such as Easter (Fasika) and Meskel and for welcoming guests. The dough is scented with fenugreek, cardamom and coriander seed, and before baking the top is cut with a knife into a wheel-like pattern, so it comes out of the oven looking like a decorated plate; it is brushed with niter kibbeh and berbere and served torn into pieces with coffee. Chef's tip: cut the pattern deep (about 1 cm), or it disappears as the bread rises in the oven.
Maji ya bungo is a favourite Zanzibar street drink made from the orange, sweet-sour pulp of the bungo fruit (Saba comorensis), soaked off the seeds, blended with sugar and water and strained. It's tangy, fruity and very refreshing. Serve well chilled.
Ehime prefecture on Shikoku farms more red sea bream than anywhere else in Japan, and tai-meshi is its signature rice. Around Matsuyama and the old fishing town of Hojo, a whole grilled fish is laid on seasoned rice and cooked in the same pot, then the flesh is flaked through the grains at the table. Down the coast in Uwajima the same name means raw bream on hot rice, but this is the cooked kind. Sea bream is a fish for celebrations in Japan, so the dish turns up at weddings and New Year as well as in station lunch boxes. Chef's tip: grill the fish briefly before it goes in the pot; the browned skin adds a toasty flavour to the rice and keeps the fish from smelling of the sea.
Every Malaysian household seems to have someone who makes pineapple tarts in the weeks before Chinese New Year or Hari Raya, and the plastic tubs of them go round every visit and open house. In Hokkien the pineapple, 'ong lai', sounds like 'fortune comes', which is why they matter so much at the New Year. This is the rolled 'nastar' style: a little ball of golden, slow-cooked pineapple jam, scented with cinnamon, star anise and clove, wrapped in rich, crumbly butter pastry. Chef's tip: grate the pineapple by hand rather than blending it; the fibres give the jam its chewy body.
Koat pitha is Mizoram's favourite tea-time snack, sold in Aizawl's bakeries and street stalls and fried at home whenever bananas go soft: mashed ripe banana is mixed with rice flour and jaggery into a thick batter and fried in spoonfuls until crisp, brown and puffed. Inside they are soft and sticky-sweet. They are served at church gatherings and with red tea on wet afternoons. Chef's tip: the riper the bananas the better; spotted, almost black ones give the most flavour and sweetness.
Quesadillas de hongos are sold from comales at markets all over central Mexico, from Mexico City to the forests around Toluca where wild mushrooms are picked in the rains. The mushrooms are fried hard with onion, garlic and green chilli and finished with epazote, a pungent herb with notes of mint, anise and citrus that is the signature of central Mexican cooking. Folded into corn tortillas with stringy cheese, they are earthy, juicy and a little hot. Serve with salsa roja and lime. Use a cheese made with vegetarian rennet; low-moisture mozzarella is a good stand-in for Oaxaca cheese. Chef's tip: fry the mushrooms until all their liquid has gone; wet mushrooms make the tortilla soggy.
Ceviche is Lima's great obsession, eaten at lunchtime in cevicherías all along the coast; this vegetarian ceviche de champiñones keeps everything that makes it thrilling except the fish. Raw mushrooms are sliced thin and tossed at the last minute in leche de tigre, the bright, peppery marinade of lime, garlic, ginger, celery and ají limo, so they turn silky but still bite back. Red onion brings crunch, coriander freshness, and on the plate it gets the classic Lima company: a slice of sweet potato, a wedge of corn on the cob and a handful of toasted cancha. Serve it as a starter on a hot day, straight away. Chef's tip: squeeze the limes gently by hand and stop before the pith; pressing hard or using a squeezer that crushes the peel makes the leche de tigre bitter.
Mazamorra morada is a deep purple pudding from Lima, made by boiling Andean purple corn with pineapple peel and spices and then thickening the dark juice with sweet potato starch and fruit. It is sold in little cups at markets and street carts, and in Lima it is eaten all year but above all in October, often spooned into the same bowl as rice pudding, a combination called el clásico. It is fruity, gently spiced and wobbly, like a thick jam pudding. Dried purple corn (maíz morado) is sold in Latin shops and online; purple corn powder works too. Chef's tip: dissolve the starch in cold water and stir it in off the boil; tipping it into a bubbling pan makes lumps that never smooth out.
Sweet potato is not old Moroccan tradition, but today it is sold in every souk from Agadir to Meknes and turns up in modern home tagines alongside the classic chickpeas, dried apricots and ras el hanout. This version leans on the sweet-and-spiced style of Fez and Marrakech cooking: the sweet potato melts slightly into the sauce, the chickpeas keep their bite and a handful of apricots adds little pockets of tang. It is filling enough for a weekend lunch with couscous or bread, and it reheats beautifully the next day. Chef's tip: bloom the ras el hanout in the oil for 30 seconds before the liquid goes in; raw spice blends taste dusty, cooked ones taste round.
Satay smoke drifts along Javanese streets every evening, where sellers fan charcoal grills set up on the pavement and serve skewers with peanut sauce, rice cakes and sliced shallot. Tofu and tempeh are naturals for it: they drink up a sweet-savoury marinade of palm sugar, tamari, coriander and garlic and pick up dark, sticky char at the edges. The sauce here is cooked until smooth and glossy, sweeter and milder than the grainy dressing on gado-gado, made for dipping. Chef's tip: soak the bamboo skewers for 30 minutes and brush the satay with marinade as it grills — the sugar caramelises into the dark, slightly burnt edges that make satay taste like satay.
Coffee was born in Ethiopia's south-western forests around Kaffa and Jimma, and buna is still a ceremony as much as a drink: in homes from Jimma to Addis Ababa, a woman of the house roasts green beans in a pan over charcoal, carries the smoking pan around so guests can breathe in the aroma, grinds them, and brews the coffee in a clay pot called a jebena. It is served in small handleless cups with sugar (or salt or butter in the countryside), alongside popcorn or dabo kolo, and poured three times: abol, tona and baraka. The ceremony takes the best part of an hour and is about conversation. Chef's tip: let the jebena stand for a few minutes before pouring so the grounds settle, and pour in one steady stream without stopping.
After a heavy tagine or couscous, Moroccan families in the orange-growing Souss valley and around Marrakech often skip pastries and bring out a plate of sliced oranges instead, splashed with orange blossom water and dusted with cinnamon. It is the simplest dessert there is, but when the oranges are cold and juicy it tastes like a perfume of spice and flowers. Scatter over toasted almonds or chopped dates to make it more filling. Chef's tip: cut off every bit of white pith; even a thin ring of it makes the slices bitter.
Baozi are breakfast across China: commuters in Shanghai, Beijing and small towns alike queue at steaming stalls for a couple of buns and a cup of soya milk. Vegetable baozi (su cai bao) are a standard on every counter, usually filled with greens, mushroom, tofu and glass noodles. Making them is a weekend job, but they freeze beautifully and reheat in 10 minutes. Chef's tip: let the shaped buns rise until they look puffy and feel light before steaming; under-proved buns come out dense and wrinkled.
Tokushima, the city famous for the Awa Odori summer dance, has its own ramen with a broth almost the colour of coffee. Instead of chashu slices, the bowl is topped with thin pieces of pork belly simmered in sweet soy, plus bean sprouts, spring onions and a raw egg cracked in the middle. Locals often order a bowl of plain rice on the side and spoon the pork and egg over it. This home version builds the dark soup from good stock, the pork's own simmering liquid and soy. Chef's tip: eat it with rice as Tokushima does; the sweet-salty broth is strong on purpose, and the rice balances it.
Mapo tofu was first served at a small eatery in north Chengdu in the late 1800s, and it is still on the table at almost every Sichuan family dinner: wobbly cubes of tofu in a glossy red sauce that is hot from chilli bean paste and tingling from Sichuan pepper. Restaurants make it with minced beef or pork; here finely chopped shiitake and chestnut mushrooms are fried until crisp-edged and dark, so they give the same savoury bite. Spoon it over plenty of steamed rice, which soaks up the oil. Chef's tip: grind the Sichuan pepper fresh and scatter it on at the very end; ground ahead of time it loses its buzz.
Gan bian si ji dou, 'dry-fried four-season beans', is a fixture of Sichuan restaurant menus and home tables alike. The beans are fried until their skins wrinkle and blister, then tossed in a hot, dry wok with chilli, Sichuan pepper and salty preserved mustard greens (ya cai) from Yibin. Nothing is saucy: every bean is coated and slightly chewy. Restaurants usually add pork; this vegetarian version leans on the ya cai for depth. Chef's tip: dry the beans completely after washing, or they will spit and steam instead of blistering.
Dan dan mian is named after the shoulder pole (dan) that Chengdu hawkers once used to carry their noodles and sauces through the streets. A proper bowl is small and intense: springy wheat noodles over a puddle of sesame paste, chilli oil and soy, topped with a crunchy, salty crumble and blanched greens. The crumble here is mushroom and tofu fried with preserved ya cai until crisp. Mix everything from the bottom before eating. Chef's tip: loosen the sesame paste with a little of the hot noodle water so it coats every strand instead of clumping.
Pai huang gua turns up on tables from Beijing to Guangzhou, often the first dish to land at a summer meal because it takes ten minutes and cools the mouth between spicy bites. Smashing the cucumbers rather than slicing them cracks them into rough pieces that soak up dressing in minutes. It goes with any stir-fry, noodles or dumplings. Chef's tip: salt the smashed pieces for 10 minutes and pour off the water, otherwise the dressing is diluted to nothing by the time you sit down.
Fan qie chao dan is the dish students across China cook in their first flat, and it appears at family meals in every province. Soft curds of egg and slumped tomatoes make a sweet-sour, slightly saucy stir-fry that is wonderful spooned over rice. Some families make it drier, others soupier; this version has just enough sauce to soak the rice. Chef's tip: cook the eggs first and take them out while still glossy; they finish in the tomato sauce and stay tender.
Daan taat are the pride of Hong Kong bakeries and cha chaan teng, where they come out of the oven several times a day and are eaten warm with a glass of milk tea. Unlike Portuguese tarts, the custard stays smooth, glossy and bright yellow with no scorched top, and this version uses a buttery shortcrust (lard is traditional in some bakeries; we use only butter). Chef's tip: strain the custard twice and skim off every bubble; that's what gives the mirror-smooth surface.
In Lebanese homes tabbouleh is a green salad first and a grain salad a distant second: a heap of finely cut flat-leaf parsley and mint, flecked with fine bulgur, diced tomato and spring onion, and sharpened with lemon and olive oil. It turns up on every mezze table from Beirut to the mountain villages, and families make it in big bowls for Sunday lunch, scooping it up with crisp inner leaves of cos lettuce. It tastes bright, lemony and fresh, and goes with falafel, grilled halloumi or any spread of dips and bread. The usual mistake is chopping wet parsley, which bruises into a dark, soggy mush; dry it thoroughly and slice it with a sharp knife instead. Chef's tip: dress the bulgur with the lemon juice and tomato juice first, so it softens in that liquid instead of in water and soaks up all the flavour.
Cacio e pepe is a Roman trattoria standard: just pasta, sheep's cheese and a lot of cracked black pepper, turned into a glossy cream with starchy cooking water. Romans order it as a primo at lunch, especially in the old osterie of Testaccio and Trastevere, and it was born as shepherds' food because dry pecorino and peppercorns kept for weeks. Tonnarelli (square egg-free spaghetti) is the classic shape; in southern Tuscany the same sauce coats pici, fat hand-rolled noodles, and the variation is in the last step. Chef's tip: toast the cracked pepper in the dry pan first, then splash in pasta water; it turns the pepper fragrant rather than harsh and starts the sauce base.
Risotto ai funghi is what Piedmont and Lombardy cook in October, when foragers bring porcini down from the Alpine foothills and markets in Alba, Turin and Bergamo sell baskets of wild mushrooms. At home, a handful of dried porcini and their soaking liquid give that deep, woodsy flavour to ordinary chestnut mushrooms. It is a first course in Italy and a full supper anywhere else. Chef's tip: brown the fresh mushrooms in a separate hot pan and fold half in at the end; they stay meaty instead of turning soft and grey.
Panna cotta means 'cooked cream' and comes from the dairy country of the Langhe in Piedmont, where it is served after Sunday lunch, often with caramel or a few berries. Classic recipes set it with gelatine, which is made from animals; this version uses agar, a seaweed setting agent, so it is properly vegetarian. Agar sets firmer and faster, so the amount is small and it must be boiled to work. The result is creamy, just set and wobbles when you shake the plate. Chef's tip: boil the agar in the milk for a full 2 minutes before adding the cream; if it only warms, it will not set.
Affogato means 'drowned': a scoop of vanilla or fior di latte gelato with a shot of hot espresso poured over it at the table. It is served in bars and gelaterie all over Italy as the simplest after-dinner dessert, half drink and half ice cream, eaten quickly with a spoon while the coffee melts into the gelato. It takes five minutes and needs good ice cream and strong coffee. Chef's tip: chill the glasses in the freezer for 10 minutes first, so the gelato melts slowly and you get both hot and cold in each spoonful.
The full English is the weekend fry-up of English homes and the pride of every café and B&B from Cornwall to Yorkshire, a plate built to last until supper. This version contains pork: sausages, back bacon and optional black pudding, with fried eggs, baked beans, mushrooms, grilled tomato and buttered toast. The trick is timing so everything lands hot together. Chef's tip: start the sausages first and slowest; everything else cooks in the time they take.
On roadsides and at weekly village markets across central Anatolia, women sit cross-legged by a domed iron griddle (saç), rolling dough paper-thin with a long thin rolling pin (oklava), filling it and cooking it to order. This is gözleme: a soft, blistered parcel of unleavened dough wrapped round spinach and salty white cheese, brushed with butter as it comes off the heat. Eat it hot, folded in paper, with a glass of ayran. A big frying pan or flat griddle at home does the job. Chef's tip: roll the dough so thin you can almost see the worktop through it; thick gözleme tastes doughy and the filling stays cold.
Every Scottish granny has her own Scotch broth, the thick winter soup that simmers on stoves from the Borders to the Highlands and is often served on Burns Night. Lamb neck on the bone makes a rich stock with pearl barley, dried peas, leek, carrot, turnip and cabbage, and the meat is shredded back into the pot. It is a whole meal with crusty bread. Chef's tip: make it a day ahead; the barley keeps thickening it, and you can lift the solid fat off the top once chilled.
Çılbır goes back to the Ottoman palace kitchens, and today you are as likely to meet it on a brunch menu in Istanbul's Kadıköy or Cihangir as on a home breakfast table. Two soft poached eggs sit on a bed of thick, garlicky yogurt, and a spoonful of butter fried with Aleppo pepper is poured over the top so it runs red into the white. Break the yolks, mix everything together and mop it up with bread. Chef's tip: take the yogurt out of the fridge 30 minutes ahead, or stand the bowl over warm water for a few minutes; cold yogurt chills the eggs and the dish should be served warm.
On the streets of Beirut, vendors push wooden carts stacked with ka'ak, a chewy, sesame-crusted bread shaped like a handbag with a hole for a handle; in Jerusalem's Old City the same bread comes as long oval rings sold by the gate. Buyers ask for it split open and filled with a pinch of za'atar or a wedge of soft white cheese, and eat it on the way to work or school. The crust gets its deep amber colour from a quick dip in sweetened water before the sesame goes on, and the crumb inside stays soft and slightly sweet. Chef's tip: toast the sesame seeds lightly in a dry pan before coating; they stick better once cool and taste nutty rather than raw.
Sweet crêpes made from wheat flour, milk and eggs are Brittany's gift to the rest of France, and on 2 February, Chandeleur, French families make piles of them at home, flipping the first with a coin in hand for luck. They are thin and tender with golden, lacy spots, and the classic filling is simplest: a smear of salted butter and a sprinkle of sugar, or sugar and lemon. Children love them with chocolate spread, jam or sliced banana. Chef's tip: make the batter thinner than you expect, like single cream; thick batter is the common mistake and gives heavy pancakes, not crêpes.
Showing 81 of 7,762 recipes
Show more recipesPage 637 of 863
Indian
Spanish
Italian
American
Chinese
Mexican
Brazilian
Japanese
Persian
South African
Paraguayan
French
Israeli
Korean
Greek
Swiss
Algerian
Ethiopian
Argentinian
Bangladeshi
Nigerian
Singaporean
Mauritian
Venezuelan
Cuban
Lebanese
Belgian
Malaysian
Peruvian
Moroccan
Indonesian
British
Turkish
