Şərbət is poured at the start of every Azerbaijani wedding, and the rose kind, scented with rosewater from the Absheron rose gardens, is the most loved; in Baku it is set out in crystal jugs for Novruz guests and at Ramadan iftar. This version adds two kinds of basil (reyhan): purple basil leaves steeped in the syrup for a clove-like scent, and soaked basil seeds that swell into soft, jelly-coated pearls. Lemon keeps it from tasting like perfume. Serve very cold, with ice, alongside sweets or a rich plov. Chef's tip: soak the basil seeds in plenty of water, at least 20 times their volume; crowded seeds clump into a single lump.
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Kachumbari is the raw salad that goes with nearly everything in Kenya and Tanzania: nyama choma grills in Nairobi, pilau on the Swahili coast, chips mayai at roadside stalls and ugali at home. It is simply ripe tomato and red onion cut small, with coriander, chilli and lime, and sometimes cucumber or avocado. Chef's tip: soak the sliced onion in salted water for ten minutes; it takes away the harsh bite without losing the crunch.
Parmigiana di melanzane is Campania's big summer bake, made when aubergines are cheap and glossy and served for Sunday lunch or carried in a tin to the beach. Fried slices of aubergine are layered with a quick basil tomato sauce, fior di latte and grated hard cheese, then baked until the edges bubble and darken. It is better warm than piping hot, and better still the next day, cut into neat squares. Chef's tip: salt the slices and press them for 30 minutes before frying; they drink less oil and the layers stay distinct instead of watery.
Kachri is a small wild melon that grows on its own in the sandy fields of southern Haryana and western Rajasthan. Sliced and sun-dried, it keeps for a year and has a sharp, sour taste that farmers' families grind with garlic and red chilli into this fiery chutney. A spoonful goes with bajra roti and white butter on a winter afternoon, or with dal and rice when there is nothing else in the house. Dried kachri and kachri powder are sold in Indian grocers. Chef's tip: taste a piece of dried kachri first; occasionally one batch is bitter, and that bitterness will ruin the whole jar.
Kacchi biryani is the wedding dish of Old Dhaka: at every Bangladeshi biye the huge copper pots come out, and the lanes around Nazira Bazar are famous for it. 'Kacchi' means raw: the mutton goes into the pot uncooked, marinated in yogurt and spices, under a layer of half-cooked aromatic rice and fried potatoes, and everything steams together for over an hour so the meat juices cook the rice. Serve it with borhani, the spiced yogurt drink, and a salad of sliced cucumber and onion. The common mistake is under-marinating or using lean meat cut too large; small pieces of shoulder with some fat, marinated overnight in the fridge, cook through in time. Chef's tip: seal the lid with a rope of dough; if no steam escapes, the meat at the bottom becomes tender without you ever opening the pot.
Kabuli pulao crossed the Khyber Pass from Afghanistan and is now part of everyday cooking in Peshawar and across Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, where it is the dish of honour for guests and the centre of Eid tables. Lamb on the bone is simmered into a rich stock, then rice is cooked in that stock and the meat is buried in the middle so it stays soft. On top go strips of carrot and raisins, glazed in a little sugar, and toasted almonds. It isn't spicy, just warm with cumin and cardamom. Chef's tip: caramelise a spoon of sugar in the oil before adding the stock; it gives the rice its traditional golden-brown colour.
Koobideh is the kebab of Tehran's bazaar lunch houses and roadside chelo-kababis, laid on a hill of buttered rice with a raw egg yolk or a slab of butter melting into the grains. The name means 'pounded': minced lamb is kneaded with grated onion until it turns sticky and pale, then pressed by hand along wide, flat skewers and grilled hard over coals. It comes out juicy and onion-sweet, with little ridges from your fingers. Eat it with charred tomatoes, raw onion, fresh herbs and lavash on the side. Chef's tip: squeeze every drop of juice out of the grated onion; wet mince slips straight off the skewer.
Pasembur is sold from Indian-Muslim (mamak) stalls along Penang's Gurney Drive and Esplanade: shredded cucumber, jicama and bean sprouts piled with sliced fried tofu, boiled egg and crisp fritters, all buried under a thick, sweet, gently spicy sauce made from sweet potato, chilli and peanuts. You pick your fritters at the stall; prawn fritters are common, but here they are crunchy cabbage and onion ones. Chef's tip: dress it at the very last moment and eat at once, so the fritters stay crisp under the sauce.
Vatha kuzhambu is what a Tamil kitchen cooks when the vegetable basket is empty: tamarind, sambar powder and a handful of sun-dried sundakkai or manathakkali berries fried crisp in sesame oil. It simmers down to a glossy, almost black gravy that is sour, a little bitter, hot and faintly sweet, and it keeps for days, so it travels in tiffin carriers and turns up at Brahmin home lunches all over Thanjavur and Chennai. Mix a spoonful into hot rice with a little sesame oil, and eat it with a plain poriyal or appalam to calm the heat. Chef's tip: fry the dried berries in the oil first and lift them out the moment they puff and darken; added at the end they stay crisp and bitter-nutty instead of turning leathery.
Despite the French-sounding name, a Dutch kaassoufflé has nothing to do with a baked soufflé. It is a snack-bar classic, fried in the frituur of every cafetaria from Groningen to Maastricht: a rectangle of thin pastry wrapped around a slab of young Gouda, coated in breadcrumbs and deep-fried until the cheese inside goes molten. It is the vegetarian's answer to the kroket, eaten at lunch or on the way home from football, with a squeeze of mayonnaise or sweet chilli sauce. Chef's tip: chill the filled, breaded pockets for at least 30 minutes before frying; cold pastry and cheese stay sealed in the hot oil, while warm ones burst and leak.
Bouye is the Wolof name for the powdery white pulp of the baobab fruit, and jus de bouye is the thick, creamy-tart drink sold in reused bottles from coolers all over Dakar and served at every family celebration. It tastes like sherbet with a hint of pear. Most cooks now use baobab powder, which is sold in health shops as well as African grocers. Sweetened condensed milk is optional but common. Chef's tip: whisk the powder into a little water first to make a smooth paste; poured straight into a jug it forms lumps that never dissolve.
Older than both carbonara and amatriciana, gricia is the white pasta of the Roman hills: no egg, no tomato, nothing but guanciale, pecorino and pepper brought together with starchy cooking water. On a Roman menu it often sits with its siblings under the heading of the four great Roman pastas, and it is many locals' quiet favourite for a weekday lunch. Short rigatoni catch the creamy, salty sauce in their ridges and tubes, and the guanciale is cooked until amber and crisp-edged so its fat flavours everything. Follow it with something light, such as sautéed chicory with garlic. Chef's tip: before you finish the pasta, mash the pecorino in a bowl with a few spoonfuls of cooled pasta water into a smooth cream; it melts into the sauce instead of seizing into strings.
Pasta alla Norma comes from Catania, in the shadow of Mount Etna, and is named after Norma, the opera by the city's own composer Vincenzo Bellini; a local writer is said to have called the dish 'a real Norma', meaning a masterpiece. Fried aubergine, a simple garlic and basil tomato sauce and a snowfall of salty ricotta salata make one of Sicily's best summer lunches. Chef's tip: keep a few of the best fried aubergine slices aside and lay them on top at the end; the rest melt into the sauce and the top ones stay silky.
Sweet, salty and grassy all at once, Palermo's favourite pasta carries the island's history in one pan: Arab raisins, pine nuts and saffron meet fresh sardines and the wild fennel that grows on every Sicilian hillside in spring. It is cooked at home and in the city's old trattorie from March to the start of summer, and on 19 March for the feast of San Giuseppe. Instead of cheese, it is finished with olive oil toasted breadcrumbs, the crunchy 'muddica' that Sicilians call poor man's parmesan. Wild fennel is hard to find outside Italy; the fronds from two fennel bulbs plus a few fennel seeds come close. Serve it warm, or at room temperature as Palermitans often do. Chef's tip: blanch the fennel greens in the pasta pot first and cook the bucatini in that same green, aniseed-scented water, so the flavour runs right through the pasta.
Jukut urab turns up on almost every Balinese rice plate and at temple-day feasts: blanched long beans, greens and bean sprouts tossed with freshly grated coconut that has been fried with a little bumbu of shallot, chilli, kencur and lime leaf. It is bright, crunchy and only gently hot, the fresh side dish that balances heavier ones. Many cooks add shrimp paste to the bumbu; this one leaves it out. Chef's tip: toss the vegetables and coconut only just before serving, or the coconut draws out water and the dish turns soggy.
In Naples pasta e fagioli (pasta e fasule in dialect) is thick enough to stand a spoon in, made with cannellini or borlotti beans, a few cherry tomatoes, garlic and broken pasta cooked straight in the bean broth. It is a cheap, filling Friday-night meal in many Neapolitan homes, and the bean starch, not cream or cheese, makes it velvety; this version stays vegan. Chef's tip: blend a ladle of the beans before the pasta goes in; it thickens the soup naturally so the pasta is coated, not swimming.
Pasta e patate is Neapolitan home cooking at its most thrifty: potatoes and mixed broken pasta (pasta mista, the odds and ends from many packets) cooked together in one pot like a risotto, until the potato breaks down and the starch makes everything creamy. Naples families eat it on weekday evenings in winter, and many stir in cubes of smoked provola at the end so it goes stringy (pasta patate e provola). Children love it. Chef's tip: cut half the potato small and half larger; the small pieces melt into the sauce while the larger ones keep their shape.
Mizo cooking in Aizawl and the hill villages of Mizoram is simple and clean, with few spices and lots of greens, and vawksa rep shows it at its best. Smoked pork (vawksa rep) is simmered until soft, then mustard greens (antam) go in and soak up its smoky, fatty broth. It is an everyday lunch with rice, and some families add a little bai (bamboo shoot) or chilli. Chef's tip: keep the stems and leaves of the greens separate; the stems need a few minutes longer.
Joojeh kabab is what fills Tehran's parks on Sizdah Bedar, the thirteenth day of Nowruz, when families picnic outdoors and grills smoke under the plane trees; it is just as common on restaurant platters beside koobideh. Chunks of chicken soak overnight in yogurt, grated onion, lemon and bloomed saffron, then cook fast over high heat so the edges char while the middle stays juicy and golden-orange. Serve with buttery chelow rice, grilled tomatoes and a pinch of sumac. Chef's tip: grind the saffron threads with a pinch of sugar before steeping them in hot water; you get twice the colour from the same few threads.
Pastéis de nata were first baked by monks of the Jerónimos Monastery in Belém, on the Lisbon waterfront, who used surplus egg yolks (whites went to starch habits) in a lemon-and-cinnamon custard. Today every pastelaria in Portugal sells them warm from first thing in the morning, eaten standing at the counter with a bica or galão, dusted with cinnamon and icing sugar. The pastry is a spiral of thin, buttery layers pressed up the sides of the tin with a wet thumb; the custard is baked in the hottest oven you have, so it sets creamy and catches dark freckles in under 15 minutes. Chef's tip: chill the rolled log of pastry well and press the discs from the centre outwards, so the edge stands slightly above the rim; that thin rim is what shatters when you bite.
Briouats are the small, crunchy pastry triangles served at Moroccan weddings and at the iftar table during Ramadan, especially in Rabat and Fez where women make hundreds ahead and freeze them. The wrapper is warqa, a paper-thin pastry, though filo works well at home. Savoury briouats are often filled with meat or seafood; this vegetarian filling of potato, carrot, peas, spices and cheese is popular in family kitchens and loved by children. Bake or fry them and serve hot with a dipping saucer of harissa. Chef's tip: let the filling cool completely before wrapping; hot filling makes the pastry soggy and it splits in the oven.
Curry laksa, or curry mee, is the coconut-rich laksa of Kuala Lumpur and the west coast, a hawker breakfast as often as a lunch, ladled from huge pots into bowls of noodles. The broth is a fried spice paste of chillies, lemongrass, galangal and candlenuts loosened with coconut milk, so it's spicy, creamy and fragrant at once. Stalls top it with chicken, cockles or prawns; ours is all vegetable: tofu puffs that soak up the soup like sponges, soft aubergine, long beans, crunchy bean sprouts and mint. Chef's tip: once the coconut milk goes in, keep it at a gentle simmer; a rolling boil splits it and leaves the broth greasy and grainy.
In Chile pastel de choclo is the taste of January and February, when choclo (big-kernelled starchy corn) is in every market from Santiago to Talca and families bake it in individual clay dishes called pailas. Underneath is the pino, a slow-cooked onion filling with olives, raisins and hard-boiled egg; on top, fresh corn blended with basil and a little milk, scattered with sugar so it browns into a crackly crust. This version makes the pino with mushrooms instead of beef. Chef's tip: cook the corn topping on the hob until it thickens like polenta before it goes in the oven, or it will stay runny.
Jolpan is how Assam starts the morning of Magh Bihu and Bohag Bihu, and how guests are welcomed in villages all year: a bowl of chira (flattened rice), muri, or sticky bora saul, served with thick curd, yellow jaggery or gur, and sometimes cream. It is not cooked so much as assembled, and every family has its own order: soak the chira, top with doi, crumble in gur. Variants such as komal saul (a soft rice that needs only soaking) are also jolpan. Chef's tip: rinse the chira quickly and drain it at once; a long soak turns it to paste.
Across Hubballi, Dharwad, Vijayapura and the dry plains of north Karnataka, a meal means jolada rotti: thin, crisp sorghum flatbreads slapped out by hand, often by the hundred and stored in cloth to eat with everything. Their best-loved partner is ennegai, which means 'oil vegetable': small brinjals slit and stuffed with roasted peanuts, sesame, dry coconut and spices, then cooked slowly in plenty of oil until they collapse into a thick, nutty gravy. It is wedding food, field food and Sunday food, with raw onion, a wedge of lemon and spicy chutney powder on the side. Chef's tip: use boiling water for the jowar dough; it gelatinises the flour slightly, so the rotti holds together without any wheat.
Egusi soup is cooked right across Nigeria, from Igbo kitchens in Enugu to Yoruba homes in Abeokuta, and it is the soup most people mean when they say 'swallow and soup'. Ground egusi (the protein-rich seeds of a wild melon) is fried and simmered in a pepper and palm-oil base until it forms soft, savoury curds, then finished with greens. It is eaten by hand with pounded yam, eba or fufu. The usual meats, stockfish and crayfish are left out here; mushrooms, iru and vegetable stock do the work. Chef's tip: let the egusi paste sit in the hot sauce without stirring for 5 minutes so it sets into fluffy curds before you break it up.
In Kuala Lumpur, Hokkien mee means thick yellow noodles braised in a dark, caramel-sweet soy sauce until they turn almost black, a late-night hawker dish that Petaling Street and Jalan Alor stalls still cook over roaring flames long after midnight. The originals carry pork, prawns and crisp lard; ours uses meaty shiitake, tofu puffs that drink up the sauce, cabbage and choy sum, with fried shallots for the crunch the lard would give. It's smoky, salty-sweet and very slurpable. Chef's tip: let the noodles braise until the sauce has thickened and clings to every strand, with only a spoonful left in the wok.
Pastel mandi'o are the golden half-moons sold at bus stations and street stalls all over Paraguay, especially in Asunción and around Holy Week: a soft dough of cooked cassava (mandi'o in Guaraní) and a little corn flour, wrapped round minced beef with onion, pepper, boiled egg and cumin, then fried. The mistake is a wet cassava dough that sticks and tears; drain the cassava well and add starch until it is smooth and pliable. Chef's tip: shape them between two sheets of cling film, which stops the soft dough sticking to the worktop.
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