Chickpea and potato coconut-mango broth
A Mombasa street-food bowl: chickpeas and potato simmered in coconut milk with raw mango and chilli, ladled into small bowls and topped with crisp lentil fritters, crunchy chevdo and red, green and tamarind chutneys. Make the fritters and chevdo ahead and assemble at the table. It's sweet, sour, hot and crunchy all at once.
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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.
Mambazha pulissery appears in Kerala kitchens in April and May, when small, fragrant village mangoes fall from the trees, and it is often on the Vishu sadya. Whole small ripe mangoes, or chunks of bigger ones, are simmered with jaggery and chilli until syrupy, then loosened with a coconut-cumin paste and lightly soured yogurt. Unlike kalan, it stays thin and pourable: sweet, tangy and mildly hot, with the fenugreek tempering on top. Pour it over rice, with a thoran on the side. Chef's tip: use very ripe, slightly fibrous mangoes; firm ones make it sour and the sweetness never comes through.
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.
Mamri, better known as mandazi, are lightly sweet East African fried breads made with coconut milk and cardamom. They puff up golden and hollow and are soft inside. Serve warm with pigeon peas in coconut milk (mbaazi) for a classic Zanzibar breakfast, or with tea.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Mandua, or finger millet, is the grain that hill farmers in Uttarakhand have relied on for generations, and its roti is the staple of a pahadi winter kitchen. The rotis come out dark brown, slightly sweet and earthy, and they are eaten hot from the tawa with a spoon of ghee, kafuli or a bowl of chainsoo, sometimes with jaggery on the side. With no gluten to hold it together the dough is fragile, so cooks pat it out between wet palms rather than rolling it. Chef's tip: knead the dough in two small batches with hot water; millet dough dries and cracks quickly, so the second batch stays fresh while you cook the first.
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.
Despite the name, Mangalore buns are not baked at all: they are thick, soft puris made from a dough of overripe bananas, sugar, yogurt and flour, left for hours to turn slightly tangy, then deep-fried until they balloon. Every Udupi restaurant in coastal Karnataka has them on the breakfast board, served with coconut chutney and sambar, and children love them on their own. They are lightly sweet with a hint of cumin and a soft, bready inside. Chef's tip: use bananas with black-flecked skins; underripe bananas give a dense, pale bun that won't brown.
Kori rotti belongs to the Bunt community of Mangalore and Udupi, where it is cooked for weddings, the Aati festival and Sunday lunches. Kori is chicken, simmered in a thin, red coconut-milk gravy built on roasted Byadgi chillies; rotti are paper-thin dried rice wafers, bought in stacks and crumbled into the plate just before the curry goes over. They soften at the edges and stay crunchy in the middle. Chef's tip: pour the curry over the rotti only at the table; left to sit, the wafers turn to mush.
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.
Yeung chi gam lo was created in a Hong Kong restaurant in the 1980s and quickly became the city's favourite summer dessert, served in dessert shops late into the night. It's half drink, half pudding: puréed ripe mango mixed with coconut and evaporated milk, studded with chewy sago pearls, mango cubes and juicy pomelo. Chef's tip: rinse the cooked sago under cold water until it stops feeling slimy; this keeps each pearl separate and the dessert clean-tasting.
Mangú is breakfast across the Dominican Republic, from Santo Domingo's colmados to farm kitchens in the Cibao valley: green plantains boiled until soft, then mashed smooth with butter and a splash of cold water and crowned with red onions softened in vinegar. It is creamy, mild and salty, with the sharp pink onions cutting through. At home it's usually served as los tres golpes, with fried salami, fried cheese and fried eggs; this vegetarian plate keeps the queso frito and the eggs. Chef's tip: mash with cold water rather than the cooking water; cold water makes the mash smoother and lighter, the trick every Dominican grandmother swears by.
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.
Kalmi vada gets its name from kalam, the Hindi word for pen: the fried chana-dal log is sliced into thin, slanted pieces that resemble pen nibs, then fried again until the slices are crunchy right through. In Jaipur and Ajmer, kalmi vadas are sold by weight from big trays, especially during the monsoon, and served with mint chutney and hot tea. The dal is ground coarse and spiced with whole coriander, fennel and chilli, so every bite crackles. The mistake to avoid is adding water when grinding; a wet mix won't hold its shape and absorbs oil. Chef's tip: let the first-fried logs cool completely before slicing, or they'll crumble under the knife.
Iban longhouses in Sarawak cook manok pansoh for Gawai, the harvest festival at the start of June: chicken pieces packed into lengths of fresh bamboo with lemongrass, ginger, shallots and tapioca leaves, plugged with leaves and leaned over an open fire. No stock or water goes in; the chicken steams in its own juices, which turn into a clear, herby broth that tastes faintly of green bamboo. At home a lidded casserole wrapped in banana leaf gets you very close. Serve it with plain rice, and with the broth spooned over. Chef's tip: bruise the lemongrass and ginger hard with a pestle before packing; with no added liquid, crushed aromatics are what flavour the juices.
On the street corners of Beirut and Tripoli the cheese man'oushe, bi jibneh, is the one children queue for: the same soft bakery dough as the za'atar kind but covered with salty white akkawi cheese mixed with stretchy mozzarella and a scatter of nigella seeds, baked until the cheese bubbles and freckles brown. It is a weekend breakfast and an after-school snack, eaten folded with a few slices of tomato and a sprig of mint. Akkawi is very salty, and the usual mistake is to use it straight from the packet, which makes the bread almost inedible; soak it first. Check the label for a vegetarian (microbial) rennet; many supermarket mozzarellas and some halloumis use it, and halloumi works if you can't find akkawi. Chef's tip: grate the cheese coarsely and keep a 1 cm bare rim, so the edge puffs up into a crisp border that holds the melted cheese in.
Ask anyone from Beirut what breakfast is and the answer is often man'oushe bi za'atar: a round of soft dough pressed with fingertips, spread with a paste of za'atar and olive oil and baked in the corner bakery's hot oven, then folded in paper and eaten on the way to school or work. At home it is rolled around sliced tomato, cucumber, olives and fresh mint. The most common mistake is too little oil in the topping, which leaves the za'atar dry and dusty, or baking it too long so the herbs scorch and turn bitter; the paste should be loose and spreadable and the bread pulled out once the rim is just golden. Chef's tip: get the oven and tray properly hot, at its highest setting for 20 minutes, so the dough puffs and blisters before the topping has time to burn.
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.
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.
Maraq digaag is the gentle chicken stew Somali mothers make on ordinary weekdays, and the one people ask for when they are unwell: chicken simmered with potato, carrot, tomato and green pepper in a light broth fragrant with xawaash and garlic. It is served with rice, canjeero or bread for dipping. The mistake is boiling it hard, which makes the chicken stringy; keep it at a lazy simmer. Chef's tip: stir in chopped coriander and a little lemon at the end to lift the broth.
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.
On the roadside grills of Douala and Yaoundé, women split tilapia or mackerel, smear them with a green paste of ginger, garlic, onion and herbs, and grill them over charcoal while people wait with a cold drink; it is late-evening food, eaten with fried plantain, bobolo (cassava sticks) or miondo and a fiery tomato pepper sauce. At home a very hot grill or a barbecue does the job. The mistake is turning the fish too early, so it sticks and breaks: wait until the skin is crisp and releases. Chef's tip: oil the fish and the grill bars, not just one of them.
Pol roti is the hearty coconut flatbread that rural Sri Lankans eat for breakfast or an evening meal, cooked on a flat iron pan (thachchi) and torn up with lunu miris, parippu or a spicy potato curry; you'll see it stacked in glass cases in kades from Anuradhapura to Matara. Wheat flour is mixed with lots of freshly grated coconut, finely chopped onion and green chilli, and the dough is patted out thick by hand, so the roti come out chewy, with toasted coconut flecks and a sweet, savoury smell. The common mistake is rolling them thin: pol roti should be a good 1 cm thick and soft inside. Chef's tip: pat each roti out on a banana leaf or oiled baking paper and flip it straight onto the pan; it's too soft and crumbly to lift any other way.
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.
Pol sambol sits on the table at almost every Sri Lankan meal, from breakfast hoppers and string hoppers in a Kandy home to a rice packet bought at a roadside kade. Grandmothers grind it on a stone (miris gala) so the chilli and onion bruise into the coconut, and it turns a bright brick red, hot, sour and salty all at once. Most island recipes add a spoonful of Maldive fish (dried tuna flakes); we leave it out to keep it vegetarian and add a little extra onion and lime for depth. A common mistake is using dried desiccated coconut straight from the packet, which tastes dusty; fresh or frozen grated coconut gives the proper moist texture. Chef's tip: rub the chilli, onion and salt together first with your fingers until they turn juicy, then work in the coconut so every flake turns red.
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.
After dark, martabak manis stalls all over Indonesia fire up their heavy iron pans, and a queue forms for one thick, spongy pancake cooked until its top is pocked with holes, then slathered with butter and folded over chocolate sprinkles, crushed peanuts, sugar and condensed milk. It's often called terang bulan, "bright moon", and is said to have come from Bangka island before spreading through Java. It's sold by the box to share with family. Chef's tip: let the bubbles form and stay open before you add the sugar and cover the pan — that open honeycomb is what soaks up the butter.
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.
Mate is less a drink than a ritual in Argentina, Uruguay and Paraguay: a gourd (also called a mate) packed with yerba mate leaves, a metal straw called a bombilla, and a thermos of hot water passed around friends, family and coworkers, from the parks of Buenos Aires to long bus rides across Patagonia. One person, the cebador, pours and drinks first, then refills and passes it on. It's grassy, bitter and gently stimulating; sweet versions add sugar. Chef's tip: never use boiling water; at about 75–80 °C the yerba stays fresh for many rounds instead of 'burning' and turning bitter.
Kahawa is the strong, spiced black coffee poured from brass pots on the streets of Stone Town: freshly ground coffee boiled with cardamom pods and finished with ginger and ground cardamom. It's bitter-sweet and aromatic. Serve hot in small kahawa cups.
Masala dosa is the breakfast of Tamil Nadu and Karnataka: a huge, thin, golden crêpe of fermented rice and urad dal batter, crisp at the edges and soft in the middle, folded around a turmeric-yellow potato and onion filling tempered with mustard seeds and curry leaves. In Chennai and Bengaluru it's eaten at small tiffin rooms with coconut chutney and a bowl of sambar, torn by hand. The batter takes planning, soaking in the morning and fermenting overnight, but one batch makes dosas for two or three days. Chef's tip: wipe the hot griddle with a cut onion dipped in oil, then sprinkle on water; if it sizzles away in a second the pan is ready, and the batter will spread thin without sticking.
At a traditional Maharashtrian wedding lunch in Pune, the masale bhaat arrives in a steel bucket, deep brown-gold with goda masala, studded with tondli, peas and cashews and topped with fresh coconut and coriander. Unlike a pulao it is not delicate: it's spiced, a touch sweet from jaggery, and made with short-grain ambemohor or indrayani rice that turns soft and fragrant. A squeeze of lemon, a spoon of ghee and a bowl of kadhi or mattha (spiced buttermilk) on the side make it a meal. Chef's tip: slice the ivy gourd lengthways into quarters, not rounds, so it holds its shape and stays crunchy through the steaming.
In the Veneto and the mountain valleys of the north-east, polenta is the old daily staple, poured steaming onto a wooden board in the middle of the table. Its classic autumn partner is funghi trifolati: mushrooms sautéed with garlic, parsley and a splash of white wine until glossy and deeply savoury. Soft polenta is spooned into bowls with the mushrooms on top, a warming supper for a cold night. Chef's tip: whisk the cornmeal into the water in a thin stream; if it goes in all at once, it lumps and no amount of stirring will fix it.
Niébé is the Wolof and French name for black-eyed beans, and this bright salad turns up at Senegalese family lunches, baptism feasts and Ramadan break-fast tables next to grilled dishes and rice. The beans are dressed while warm with lime, mustard and onion, then mixed with crunchy raw vegetables and a little hot pepper. It travels well and tastes better after an hour. Chef's tip: dress the beans while they are still warm so they drink in the lime; cold beans stay bland however much dressing you pour over.
Zanzibar's spiced pilau: rice cooked with onions, garlic, whole cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, peppercorns, cumin and nutmeg and plenty of vegetables, then finished with coconut milk and baked until fluffy. It's fragrant rather than hot. Garnish with grated coconut and serve hot with kachumbari or a curry.
Zanzibar is the spice island, and chai ya viungo is its everyday tea: black tea boiled with a home-roasted masala of cardamom, dry ginger, black pepper, cloves, cinnamon and nutmeg. The masala keeps for months in an airtight jar. Milk is optional; serve the tea hot.
Mukari are soft, lightly sweet Zanzibari pancakes made from a yeasted rice flour and coconut milk batter scented with cardamom. They're cooked covered over a low heat so they puff up and stay spongy. Serve warm with tea.
Ndizi ya kuoka: small bananas halved and baked with lemon juice, brown sugar and cinnamon until soft and syrupy, then served with lightly sweetened cream and a grating of nutmeg. It's a quick, warm pudding. The book's Handy Hints say bananas are good for the heart.
Tangawizi is a warming Swahili drink of ginger boiled with cinnamon, clove and black pepper and sweetened to taste. It's hot, peppery and soothing on a cool evening or when you have a cold. Serve hot in small kahawa cups.
Kashata ya nazi is a simple Swahili sweet of desiccated coconut cooked with milk, sugar, evaporated milk and cardamom until thick, then pressed into a dish and cut into diamonds. It's chewy and sweet, and it keeps well. Store in an airtight container.
Tambi ya nazi: soft vermicelli stirred into sweetened coconut milk with crushed cardamom, then baked briefly so it sets lightly. It's creamy, gently sweet and fragrant, and is often made for Eid. Serve hot, sprinkled with more cardamom.
In Assamese homes the meal usually ends, not begins, with a sour dish, and masor tenga is the most loved of them: river fish in a thin, tangy broth of ripe tomatoes and lemon. It is light enough for a hot afternoon on the Brahmaputra plains and is eaten with plenty of plain rice. Some families sour it with elephant apple or dried mangosteen (thekera) instead of lemon. Chef's tip: cook it in mustard oil and let a few fenugreek seeds sizzle first; that slight bitterness is the backbone of the broth.
Mast-o khiar is the cool yogurt bowl that sits beside rice and stew on Iranian tables all summer, and families pack it in a cool box for picnics in the parks of Tehran and Isfahan. Thick yogurt is mixed with crunchy diced cucumber and dried mint, then dressed up with walnuts, raisins and a scattering of dried rose petals, which make it sweeter and more fragrant than the plain garlic-cucumber dips of its neighbours. Serve it with polo, kuku or simply with bread. Chef's tip: soak the raisins in warm water for 10 minutes first so they are plump, not chewy.
A Mombasa street favourite: potatoes cooked in a thin, garlicky tomato and raw mango sauce, ladled into bowls and piled with crushed potato crisps, crunchy sev and a fresh coconut and mango chutney. Everyone builds their own bowl to taste. Serve straight away so the crisps stay crunchy.
Born in the 1950s in Chaclacayo, just east of Lima, this rotisserie chicken has grown into a national obsession, with its own holiday on the third Sunday of July and a pollería on almost every block. The bird is marinated in soy sauce, lime, garlic, cumin and ají panca, then roasted until the skin is lacquered and dark. At home a hot oven does the job, and the meal is not complete without chips, a simple salad and a jar of creamy green ají sauce. Chef's tip: dry the skin well and leave the chicken uncovered in the fridge overnight after marinating; it roasts up much crisper.
Matapa is the great dish of southern Mozambique, from Maputo to Inhambane: young cassava leaves pounded and cooked for a long time with ground peanuts, coconut milk and garlic until soft, creamy and deep green. It is eaten with rice or xima (maize porridge), and on the coast it often has crab or prawns stirred in; this version keeps to the leaves. Frozen ground cassava leaves are sold in African grocers. Chef's tip: cook the cassava leaves for at least an hour; undercooked they taste bitter and are not safe to eat.
Champurrado is a chocolate atole, the thick, hot corn drink Mexicans have drunk since before the Spanish arrived. Masa harina is whisked into water and milk with Mexican chocolate (stone-ground with sugar and cinnamon) and piloncillo, a dark unrefined cane sugar, and cooked until velvety and spoon-coating. It is drunk on cold mornings with tamales or conchas, and above all during Día de Muertos and Christmas posadas. Chef's tip: always dissolve the masa harina in cold liquid before it meets the hot pot, and whisk constantly once it's in; dumped into hot milk it seizes into lumps.
In the Champaran district of north-west Bihar, near the Nepal border, mutton is cooked in an ahuna or handi: a clay pot packed with raw meat, whole bulbs of garlic, onions, mustard oil and spices, sealed shut with dough and left for hours on a slow charcoal fire. Nobody adds water and nobody stirs; the meat cooks in its own juices and the garlic turns soft and sweet. Roadside dhabas on the highways out of Motihari made it famous, and it is now cooked at family picnics and parties right across Bihar, eaten with rice or rotis. This home version uses a heavy pot sealed with foil and a lid. Chef's tip: shake the pot instead of opening it; every time the lid comes off, steam escapes and the meat dries out.
A thick, tangy Ethiopian sauce of soft masoor lentils blended with onion, garlic, green capsicum, chilli and mustard. It's eaten cool or warm as part of a spread of injera and stews. Serve hot azifa with injera.
Injera is the soft, spongy, slightly sour flatbread eaten with Ethiopian stews: you tear it and scoop the food up with it. This home version uses rice and plain flour fermented with a home-made starter over a few days, then cooked on one side until covered in tiny holes. Serve rolled and sliced with missir wat, azifa and atter kik. Any fermented batter left over keeps in the fridge for the next batch.
No South African braai is finished without braaibroodjies, the sandwiches that go onto the grid once the coals have died down, from Cape Town to the Highveld. White bread is buttered on the outside and filled with cheddar, tomato, onion and a thin smear of apricot jam, a sweet-and-savoury combination every South African swears by. They come off the fire smoky, crisp and oozing. A frying pan or griddle works when there's no braai. Chef's tip: toast them over gentle, ashen coals and turn often; fierce heat burns the bread before the cheese inside has melted.
Mathura in Uttar Pradesh, Krishna's birthplace, has a peda all its own: not the pale milky kind found elsewhere, but a dusty-brown disc with a deep, toffee-like flavour from milk solids slowly roasted until they caramelise. Pilgrims buy boxes after visiting the temples, and they are made in huge batches around Janmashtami as an offering. The texture should be dense yet slightly grainy, rolled in fine boora sugar so the outside sparkles. The usual mistake is rushing the roasting over high heat, which scorches the khoya in spots and makes it bitter and greasy. Chef's tip: keep the heat low and scrape the bottom of the pan constantly; the colour should change gradually from cream to light brown, then to the shade of milky coffee.
Every 1 January, Haitian families from Port-au-Prince to Brooklyn wake up to soup joumou. It marks independence from France on 1 January 1804: under French rule, enslaved Haitians cooked this pumpkin soup but were forbidden to eat it, so the free people of the new nation made it their own as a dish of freedom. In 2021 it was added to UNESCO's list of the intangible cultural heritage of humanity. The base is a velvety purée of joumou (Caribbean pumpkin) with epis, and in it simmer chunks of carrot, potato, cabbage, celery and turnip, with pasta and a squeeze of lime. It's usually made with beef; this vegetable version is full and golden, rich enough for the day. Chef's tip: roast half the pumpkin before puréeing it; the caramelised edges give the soup the depth that slow-cooked meat usually provides.
A spicy Ethiopian stew of masoor lentils cooked down with browned onions, garlic, ginger, fresh tomato and tomato paste, and finished with red chilli and black pepper. It's thick, rich and hot. Serve with injera, alongside atter kik and azifa.
A mild, golden Ethiopian lentil sauce (kik alicha) of split bengal gram lentils simmered with onion, ginger, garlic, a pinch of turmeric and green chilli until thick and creamy. It's gentle and soothing next to the fiery missir wat. Serve hot with injera.
Mauby is one of the oldest drinks of the Eastern Caribbean, and in Barbados it's sold ice-cold from vendors in Bridgetown and made at home on hot afternoons. It's brewed from the bark of the mauby tree, simmered with cinnamon, clove, star anise, bay and orange peel, then sweetened and diluted. The first sip is surprising: bitter like strong tea or tonic, then sweet, spicy and refreshing, with a liquorice note. Bark is sold in Caribbean shops and online. Chef's tip: brew a strong concentrate and dilute it to taste; mauby lovers like it bitter, newcomers should start with more water and more sugar.
Out on the edge of the Sahara around Rissani and Merzouga, medfouna means 'buried', because the stuffed bread was traditionally baked in hot sand next to a fire. Two rounds of soft yeast dough enclose a filling of spiced beef, lots of onion, parsley and a little fat, and the whole thing bakes into a golden, crusty pie that is cut into wedges like a pizza. It is road-trip food, market-day food and the meal desert guides cook for travellers, eaten hot with mint tea. Chef's tip: squeeze the chopped onion and drain the cooked filling well; dry filling means a crisp base instead of a soggy one.
A soft, savoury pie of blended boiled maize folded into a peppery white sauce and baked until golden on top. It's mild and comforting, a little like a corn pudding, and children love it. The eggs are optional: they make it set firmer. Serve hot with a salad or tomato stew.
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