Meat-free meals with plenty of protein from paneer, dal, beans, tofu and eggs. (539 recipes)
A big sizzling griddle of boiled fresh beans and vegetables (peas, pigeon peas, black-eyed beans, soya beans, kidney beans, corn, cassava, sweet potato, baby potatoes and roasted plantain) tossed with sesame seeds, onions and a green chilli, ginger and garlic paste. It's filling, colourful and feeds a crowd at a barbecue. Serve sizzling hot straight from the tawa.
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.
Menestra is the backbone of Ecuador's set lunches: in Guayaquil's almuerzo cafés, plates arrive with white rice, a ladle of thick menestra, fried plantain (patacones or maduros) and a little salad, usually beside grilled meat. On its own it makes a complete meatless meal. Lentils are cooked down with a refrito of onion, pepper, garlic, cumin and achiote until thick enough to hold a mound. Chef's tip: stir in a handful of chopped coriander right at the end; it's the fresh lift that makes menestra taste Ecuadorian.
Waakye (say 'waa-chay') came south from the Hausa communities of northern Ghana and is now Accra's favourite breakfast and lunch, sold from big pots wrapped in leaves at roadside stalls before most offices open. Rice and black-eyed beans are cooked together with dried sorghum leaf stalks (waakye leaves), which dye the pot a deep reddish brown and add a faint earthy note. A full plate comes loaded with shito, gari, spaghetti (talia), salad and fried plantain. Chef's tip: cook the beans almost soft before the rice goes in; beans and rice finishing together is the whole trick.
Pabellón criollo is Venezuela's national dish, the lunch plate served in family kitchens and at every Caracas lunch counter: white rice, black beans (caraotas), sweet fried plantain (tajadas) and shredded stewed beef side by side, like the stripes of a flag. This vegetarian version replaces the beef with king oyster mushrooms pulled into strands and stewed in a sofrito with tomato, cumin and a little panela, which gives the same tender, shredded texture. For slow-cooked beans from scratch, see the frijoles negros cubanos page. Chef's tip: shred the mushrooms along the grain with a fork, as you would pull beef; it's what makes them look and eat like carne mechada.
On scorching May afternoons in Patna, handcarts with steel pots and heaps of lemons sell sattu sharbat by the glass: roasted gram flour whisked into cold water with black salt, roasted cumin, lemon and a bit of raw onion and chilli. It is filling enough to stand in for lunch and is the drink rickshaw pullers and farm workers swear by to beat the loo, the hot summer wind. It tastes savoury, nutty and sharp all at once. Chef's tip: whisk the sattu into a little water first to a smooth paste, then dilute it; tipping it straight into a full glass leaves dry lumps.
Dal pitha is the comfort food of Bihari winters, made on cold evenings and around Makar Sankranti: soft rice-flour dough wrapped around a coarse filling of chana dal, garlic, ginger and chilli, shaped into half-moons or little pouches and cooked in steam. People in Mithila call it a Bihari momo, and it is eaten hot with tomato chutney or a dribble of mustard oil. The dough tastes gently of rice, the filling is savoury and filling, and leftovers are excellent pan-fried the next day. Chef's tip: knead the rice dough while it is still hot; if it cools before shaping, the pitha crack and the filling leaks out.
Tsuivan is one of the most-cooked dinners in Mongolia, from Ulaanbaatar apartments to gers on the steppe: homemade noodles laid over a stir-fry and steamed under a lid until they soak up all the juices, then tossed together. It's normally made with mutton; meaty mushrooms and firm tofu stand in here, with carrot, cabbage and onion. Simple and filling, it's often eaten with a pot of salty milk tea. Chef's tip: lay the noodles on top and don't stir until the end; they cook in the steam, not in the liquid.
Poke (say 'POH-keh', meaning 'to cut into pieces') is Hawaii's everyday snack: in local markets and at the deli counters of Honolulu, raw cubed fish is tossed with soy, sesame oil, sweet Maui onion, seaweed and inamona (roasted candlenut). Tofu poke has become a standard option at those same counters, and it's how this recipe is written; the original uses raw tuna (ahi) instead of tofu. Serve it as a pūpū (snack) or over rice. Chef's tip: press the tofu well and dry it; firm, dry cubes soak up the dressing instead of watering it down.
Cook-up rice is the dish Guyanese families make to see in the New Year, and on any Saturday when the week's odds and ends go into one pot. Rice, black-eyed peas and vegetables simmer in fresh coconut milk with fresh thyme, spring onion and a whole wiri wiri pepper (small, round and fiery) until every grain is soft and glossy. It's richer and wetter than Jamaican rice and peas, with the vegetables cooked right in. Chef's tip: let the pot sit covered off the heat for 10 minutes at the end; the rice finishes in the steam and a little crust forms on the bottom that people fight over.
Luwombo is a royal dish of the Buganda kingdom in central Uganda, served at weddings, introduction ceremonies and Christmas: a stew wrapped and tied in softened banana leaves and steamed for hours so the leaf perfumes everything. Chicken, beef or smoked fish are traditional, but mushroom luwombo in a groundnut (peanut) sauce is a well-loved meat-free version, especially with the large wild mushrooms sold in Kampala markets. Serve with matoke. Chef's tip: wilt the banana leaves over a flame until they turn glossy and bendy; stiff leaves split and the sauce runs out.
Gallo pinto means 'spotted rooster', for the speckled look of rice tossed with beans, and both Costa Rica and Nicaragua claim it. In Costa Rica it's black beans with plenty of coriander and a tangy brown sauce, served at breakfast with eggs, sour cream and fried plantain; in Nicaragua red beans are fried harder with onion until the rice turns rusty. This version follows the Costa Rican breakfast table and gets its tang from cumin and a little soy sauce. Chef's tip: use rice cooked the day before and keep a cup of the bean cooking liquid; that dark liquid is what colours the rice.
Fanesca is cooked in Ecuador only once a year, in the days before Easter, and families spend a whole day shelling, peeling and stirring. Traditionally it gathers twelve grains and legumes (said to stand for the apostles) in a thick soup of squash, milk and peanut, with salt cod in the pot. This version leaves the fish out and keeps the festival garnishes: hard-boiled egg, fried ripe plantain, fresh cheese and parsley. It's rich and very filling; small bowls are enough. Chef's tip: cook everything the day before and reheat; like many big feast soups, fanesca tastes better on day two.
Sopa de maní is a pride of Cochabamba, Bolivia's food capital, where it starts the big midday meal in homes and market comedores. Raw peanuts are blended into a pale, creamy broth with vegetables and peas, and every bowl is topped with a tangle of thin, crisp fried potatoes and chopped parsley. It's usually made with beef broth; vegetable stock and a little more garlic keep it full-flavoured. Chef's tip: use raw (unroasted) peanuts and blend them very finely with water; that's what gives the soup its milky colour and silkiness.
In Tunisia a tajine is not a stew but a thick baked frittata, and tajine malsouka is the festive one: eggs, cheese and filling baked between layers of malsouka pastry so the top and bottom turn crisp and golden. It is served at Ramadan, weddings and Eid, cut into squares. Chicken is the usual filling; here spinach, potato and white beans give it body. Chef's tip: brush every pastry sheet with butter, edge to edge; dry corners burn in the oven.
Lablabi is the working breakfast of Tunis, served from steaming cauldrons in tiny shops near the medina and the markets from dawn, and eaten all over Tunisia on cold winter mornings. Torn day-old bread goes into the bowl first, then hot chickpeas and their garlicky broth, and everyone dresses their own with harissa, cumin, olive oil, lemon and capers; many add a soft-poached egg that is broken through the bread. Chef's tip: let the bread soak for a minute before you stir in the harissa, so it turns soft and spoonable but not mushy.
Ndolé comes from the Douala coast and is Cameroon's national dish, cooked for Sunday lunches, weddings and funerals: bitter leaves washed until only a gentle bitterness remains, simmered in a thick sauce of boiled, ground peanuts. Traditionally it is finished with beef, smoked fish and prawns; this version keeps the greens and peanuts at the centre and tops it with crisp fried onions, the way Douala cooks always do. Serve with boiled plantain, miondo or rice. As a variation, add prawns or beef the traditional way. Chef's tip: use raw peanuts, boiled and ground, not peanut butter; ndolé should be nubbly and pale, not like a smooth satay sauce.
Maharagwe ya nazi, red beans in coconut, is a weekday staple along the Swahili coast from Mombasa to Dar es Salaam and on Zanzibar, eaten with chapati, rice or mandazi. The beans are cooked until creamy, then simmered in a gently spiced tomato and coconut sauce. It differs from mbaazi wa nazi (pigeon peas) in its red kidney beans and its tomato-based, curry-spiced sauce. Chef's tip: add the coconut milk at the end and keep it at a bare simmer; boiled hard, it splits and turns oily.
Porotos granados is what central Chile cooks when the fresh beans arrive in late summer: tender cranberry beans shelled at the kitchen table, simmered with pumpkin until it collapses into a thick orange sauce, then finished with grated corn and basil. Families in the Valle Central eat it on hot days, often with pebre and a tomato salad; when the corn is blended in larger amounts it's called 'con mazamorra'. It's hearty but fresh-tasting, and fully plant-based. Chef's tip: add the corn only in the last 10 minutes; it's there to thicken and sweeten, and overcooked it turns floury.
Red red is Ghanaian chop-bar comfort food, eaten at lunchtime from Kumasi to Cape Coast, and it gets its name from its two reds: the bean stew glowing with palm oil and the fried ripe plantain served alongside. Black-eyed beans simmer in a tomato and onion sauce until creamy, then a sprinkle of gari on top adds crunch. It is often made with smoked fish or momoni; this meat-free version uses smoked paprika for the same savoury edge. Chef's tip: choose plantains with mostly black skins; they fry up sweet and caramelised, the perfect partner for the salty stew.
Gâteaux piments ('chilli cakes') are the snack of Mauritius, sold hot in paper bags at every bus station, school gate and market from Port Louis to Rose-Hill, and stuffed into buttered baguettes at breakfast. Yellow split peas are soaked, ground coarse with chilli, spring onion and coriander, and fried into small crunchy rounds. They are related to Indian vadas, brought by the island's Indian community. Chef's tip: grind the peas coarsely and without water; a smooth, wet paste makes dense, oily fritters.
Rougaille is the Creole tomato sauce at the heart of Mauritian home cooking, made in every kitchen from Port Louis to Mahébourg and also in the Seychelles and Réunion. Tomatoes are cooked down with onion, garlic, ginger, thyme and chilli until thick, and then something is simmered in it: sausages, salted fish, or, in many homes on a weeknight, hard-boiled eggs. Serve with rice, lentils (dholl) and chatini. Chef's tip: cook the tomatoes until the oil separates at the edges; watery rougaille tastes thin.
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.
Walk into any soda (small family diner) in San José at lunchtime and the board will offer a casado: one plate where rice and beans are 'married' to salad, sweet plantain and a main. The meatless version is just as common, with a fried egg and a slice of fresh white cheese, plus a little picadillo of chopped vegetables. It's a full, balanced lunch, and every element is simple. Chef's tip: cook the plantain only when it's deeply black-skinned and soft; ripe plantain caramelises to sticky dark edges, green plantain just goes dry.
Koki is a dense, orange-red bean cake from the Douala and Bakweri country of Cameroon, made from skinned black-eyed beans blended with red palm oil, chilli and greens, then wrapped in banana leaves and steamed for hours. It is weekend food and market food, eaten with boiled plantain, cassava or ripe banana. It is related to Nigerian moi moi but heavier, richer with palm oil and full of cocoyam leaves or spinach. Chef's tip: warm the palm oil just until liquid before beating it in; poured in cold and solid it leaves streaks of fat instead of an even orange colour.
Mafé is the Sunday-lunch stew of Senegal and Mali: a rust-coloured sauce of roasted peanut paste and tomato, simmered until oil glistens on top and ladled over broken rice. In Dakar it usually carries lamb or beef; this version uses sweet potato, carrot, cabbage and okra, which soak up the sauce just as well. In Côte d'Ivoire the same idea is called sauce d'arachide and is eaten with rice or foutou; make it slightly thinner and add aubergine for the Abidjan style. Chef's tip: use plain, unsweetened peanut paste and cook it long enough that a thin layer of red oil rises to the surface; that is the sign the peanut has lost its raw taste.
Cou-cou is Friday lunch in Barbados, and paired with flying fish it makes the island's national dish, served in homes and the fish fry stalls of Oistins. Fine cornmeal is stirred into okra and its cooking water with a flat wooden cou-cou stick until it is smooth, thick and pulls away from the pot, then shaped in a buttered bowl. It's soft, mild and comforting, made for soaking up the rich tomato gravy around it. Here the gravy is a stew of peppers, tomatoes, aubergine and butter beans cooked with Bajan seasoning; flying fish steamed in the same sauce is the classic for fish eaters. Chef's tip: whisk the cornmeal into cold water before it goes into the pot; adding it dry to boiling liquid is the fastest way to lumps.
Diri kole ak pwa, rice 'stuck together' with beans, is the plate Haitians call their national dish, cooked in homes from Jacmel to Gonaïves and served most days of the week. Unlike rice and peas from elsewhere in the Caribbean, there's usually no coconut milk: red beans are simmered first, then their dark, savoury cooking liquid goes into the rice with fried epis, thyme and cloves, so the grains turn a rich reddish-brown and taste of beans all the way through. A whole scotch bonnet adds fruity heat without fire. Chef's tip: fry the drained beans in the epis until their skins blister and catch slightly; that browning gives the rice its deep, almost smoky taste.
Habichuelas guisadas are on the stove most weekdays in Puerto Rico, from Ponce to Fajardo, ladled over plain white rice for the everyday plate called arroz con habichuelas. Pink or red beans simmer with sofrito, tomato sauce and olives, and cubes of calabaza (West Indian pumpkin) melt into the pot to make a thick, orange-red, gently sweet sauce. It's homely, cheap and deeply savoury. Island cooks often add a piece of ham; this version doesn't need it. Chef's tip: when the pumpkin is soft, crush a few pieces against the side of the pot; they dissolve into the liquid and thicken it without any flour.
Bryndzové halušky is Slovakia's national dish, cooked in every koliba (timber shepherd's restaurant) in the Liptov and Orava valleys and fought over each summer at the halušky-eating contest in Turecká. Little grated-potato dumplings are tossed while hot with bryndza, a tangy, spreadable sheep's cheese, and finished with a sour milk drink called žinčica. The traditional topping is crisp smoked bacon; here golden fried onions bring the same savoury crunch, and meat-eaters can add bacon on their own plates. Chef's tip: grate the potatoes at the last moment and work fast; grated potato left standing turns grey and watery and the dumplings go heavy.
Smažený sýr, a thick slab of breaded Edam fried until molten, is the dish every Czech student orders at a Prague hospoda and the one vegetarian main that turns up on nearly every menu from Brno to the Šumava mountain huts. It comes with tatarská omáčka (tartare sauce) and either boiled potatoes or chips, and a cold pivo on the side. The joy is the crunch giving way to stretchy, salty cheese. Chef's tip: chill the breaded slices for 20 minutes and double-coat them, otherwise the cheese bursts out into the oil before the crumb is golden.
Tavče gravče, 'beans in a pan', is the dish North Macedonians call their own: large white beans, ideally the Tetovo variety, cooked soft, then baked in a shallow earthenware tava with onions fried in paprika until the top forms a crust. In Skopje it is a Friday staple and a Christmas Eve fast-day dish, served in the same clay dish it baked in, with bread, pickled peppers and a cabbage salad. This version keeps to the meat-free fasting style, with a paprika-and-onion roux for depth. Chef's tip: let the paprika sizzle in the oil for only a few seconds off the heat; scorched paprika turns brown and bitter and spoils the whole dish, which is the most common slip.
Mish-mash is the quick summer supper of Bulgaria, cooked in every home from Sofia flats to Black Sea holiday villas once the peppers and tomatoes are cheap and ripe. Roasted peppers, onion and tomato are fried down, then sirene and beaten eggs are stirred through until soft and creamy, finished with parsley. The crumbled white brined cheese melting into the eggs is what makes it Bulgarian rather than Turkish menemen. It is eaten straight from the pan with fresh bread, often with a glass of cold beer. Chef's tip: cook the eggs gently and take them off while still a little wet; overcooking is the common mistake, and they turn rubbery and weep water.
Fasole bătută, 'beaten beans', is the fasting-day spread of Romania: on Christmas Eve and through Lent, plates of it appear in homes from Bucharest to the monasteries of Bucovina. Soft white beans are mashed smooth with garlic and oil, then crowned with a tangle of slow-fried onions stained red with paprika. It is spread thickly on bread, or served beside pickles and mămăligă. Chef's tip: beat the beans while they are still warm; cold beans turn stiff and pasty, and a common mistake is adding too little liquid, so loosen with a splash of cooking water until the purée is light and fluffy.
Erwtensoep, or snert, is the soup that Dutch skaters drink from paper cups at the koek-en-zopie stalls on frozen lakes, and that families leave to simmer on a Saturday in January. A proper snert is so thick that a spoon should stand upright in the pan, and it tastes better on the second day. The traditional pot is full of pork and smoked sausage; this version gets its depth from celeriac, leek, a little smoked paprika and a long, slow simmer. Serve it with dark rye bread (roggebrood), butter and mustard. Chef's tip: stir the bottom of the pan every 10 minutes in the last half hour; split peas settle as they thicken and catch easily, and a scorched taste spreads through the whole pot.
When the first frost hits the Dutch polders, farmers say the kale (boerenkool) finally turns sweet, and that is the signal for boerenkoolstamppot: floury potatoes mashed with finely shredded raw kale until the green is just wilted by the heat of the mash. Across the Netherlands it is the dinner of dark December evenings and the meal people want after skating on a frozen canal. Every plate gets a kuiltje, a little well pressed into the mash and filled with gravy. The classic partner is a smoked rookworst sausage; this vegetarian version keeps the smoky note with pan-fried smoked tofu and a slow-cooked onion gravy, and a spoon of mustard on the side. Chef's tip: shred the kale as fine as you can and stir it in raw at the very end, so it stays bright green with a little bite instead of turning grey and soggy.
In Denmark rugbrød is not a speciality but the daily bread: a dark, dense, slightly sour loaf of rye flour, cracked rye kernels and seeds, baked in a tin and sliced thin for every smørrebrød lunch. Bakeries in Aarhus and Copenhagen sell it by the brick, and many households keep a jar of rye sourdough starter in the fridge just for it. The dough is more of a thick porridge than a dough; you spoon it into the tin rather than shape it. It needs patience: a long sour, a long bake and a full day of resting before it is cut. Chef's tip: wait at least 12 hours, ideally 24, before slicing; the crumb is still setting as it cools and cut early it will be gummy.
For centuries Swedes have eaten ärtsoppa on Thursday: school canteens, army messes and home kitchens all serve thick yellow pea soup, followed by thin pancakes with jam (ärtsoppa och pannkakor). The tradition is said to date from Catholic times, a filling meal before Friday's fast. The soup is usually cooked with salt pork, but the soul of it is the dried yellow peas, onion and a generous hand of thyme and marjoram, so this version is fully plant-based and seasons the broth with a little smoked paprika instead. Each bowl gets a spoonful of sharp Swedish mustard stirred in at the table. Chef's tip: soak whole yellow peas overnight and skim the foam as they come to the boil; the skins that float up can then be lifted off, giving a smoother soup.
Plov (osh) is the dish Uzbeks cook for weddings, for Friday lunch and for guests, traditionally by men over a fire in a wide cast-iron kazan. Tashkent, Samarkand and Bukhara each have their own style, but all are built the same way: a zirvak (base) of onions and long strips of carrot fried in oil, rice laid on top and steamed until every grain is separate and glossy. This vegetarian version keeps the zirvak and swaps the meat for chickpeas (nohat), whole heads of garlic and barberries, as in Samarkand's chickpea plov. For the classic meat version, lamb or beef is browned in the oil before the onions and simmered in the zirvak for 40 minutes. Serve with achichuk. Chef's tip: hunt out yellow carrots from Central Asian or Turkish grocers; they are sweeter and less watery than orange ones and give plov its honeyed colour.
Kurthi, as horse gram is called in Jharkhand, grows on poor, dry upland soil where little else will, and it has fed the plateau's Adivasi and farming families for centuries. Cooked slowly into dal, it is dark, earthy and filling, with a slightly smoky taste, and it is eaten through the cold months with rice and a dry vegetable, as it is believed to warm the body. The tempering of garlic, dried chilli and smoking mustard oil is what makes it Jharkhandi. Chef's tip: mash a ladle of the cooked gram against the side of the pot; it thickens the dal without any flour.
Eetch is a Western Armenian dish from the old Cilician towns, carried by families to Aleppo, Beirut and the Armenian quarters of American cities. Fine bulgur is stirred into a hot sauce of onion, red pepper, tomato and pepper paste and left to drink it up, then finished with lemon, parsley and spring onion and eaten at room temperature, often scooped up with lettuce leaves. Unlike a herb-heavy raw bulgur salad, eetch is cooked, so it is rich and tomatoey, and it is a fixture of Lenten tables, picnics and mezze spreads. It keeps for days, which makes it a favourite for lunchboxes. Chef's tip: take the pan off the heat before adding the bulgur and keep the lid on; the grains soften in the residual heat and stay separate instead of turning to porridge.
Red lentil soup with dried apricots is a Lenten favourite of Armenian kitchens, from Yerevan flats to diaspora homes in Beirut and Los Angeles, made in the weeks before Easter when meat and dairy are set aside. The apricots, Armenia's national fruit, melt into the lentils and give a soft sweet-sour note that sits behind cumin, thyme and a squeeze of lemon. It is thick but not stodgy, a bright orange bowl that is filling enough for supper with lavash and a plate of fresh herbs. Chef's tip: chop half the apricots fine and let them dissolve, and add the rest in strips near the end, so you get both background sweetness and juicy bites.
Tahu telur is a night-market favourite in Surabaya, East Java: cubes of tofu are stirred into beaten egg and fried in a small wok so the omelette rises into a thick, crisp-edged tower. It is topped with bean sprouts, cucumber and a dark sauce of peanuts and sweet soy. Sellers in Surabaya stir shrimp paste (petis) into the sauce; this vegetarian version uses a little extra garlic and kecap manis instead. Eat with rice or lontong for a filling supper. Chef's tip: use a small, deep pan so the egg piles up around the tofu instead of spreading thin.
Ketoprak is a Jakarta cart dish, made to order: the seller grinds peanuts, garlic and chilli in a wide stone mortar, loosens them with water and sweet soy, then tips fried tofu, rice cake, rice vermicelli and bean sprouts on top. It is a cousin of gado-gado but simpler, with no egg-and-greens platter, and the raw-garlic sauce is the whole point. Eat it at lunch with plenty of crackers. Chef's tip: grind the garlic with the hot fried peanuts so the garlic mellows slightly; a raw paste made with cold nuts is harsh.
In Meizhou, the heart of Hakka country in east Guangdong, tofu stuffed with a meat filling is one of the dishes everyone expects at a family meal or a New Year table. Buddhist Hakka cooks fill it with mushroom, water chestnut and tofu instead, and that vegetarian version is given here. The squares are fried stuffed side down until crisp, then braised briefly so they soak up the sauce. Serve with rice and a plate of greens. Chef's tip: dust each hollow with cornflour before filling; it works like glue and stops the filling falling out.
Duò jiāo, salted chopped red chillies left to ferment in jars, is the backbone of Hunan home cooking, and this ten-minute dish is how many families use it on a weeknight. The eggs are cooked in hot oil until they puff into big soft curds, then tossed back through the bright red chillies, which are salty, sour and very hot. Serve with rice and a green vegetable. Chef's tip: get the oil properly hot before the eggs go in, so they puff and set at once instead of soaking up oil.
Smoked tofu (xiāng gān) hangs in strings in Hunan markets, firm and brown from wood smoke. Restaurants in Changsha usually toss it with a little pork, but leaving the meat out is common at home and in Buddhist eateries. The tofu soaks up the black beans and chillies, and the leeks go sweet and soft. Serve it with plenty of rice. Chef's tip: cut the tofu about 5 mm thick; thinner slices break apart in the wok.
Across Chengdu and Chongqing, friends spend whole evenings round a bubbling pot of red broth, dipping in mushrooms, tofu and greens a few at a time and fishing them out with chopsticks. The best-known bases are cooked in beef tallow; the clear-oil style (qīngyóu huǒguō) uses rapeseed oil instead, which keeps it vegetarian without losing the heat and tingle. You need a portable burner or electric hot pot on the table. Chef's tip: give each person a bowl of sesame oil with crushed garlic for dipping; it cools each mouthful just enough to keep going.
Yudofu is the simplest dish in Kyoto and one of the most loved. The city's soft water makes fine tofu, and the restaurants around Nanzen-ji temple in the Higashiyama hills have served it to pilgrims for centuries as part of Buddhist vegetarian cooking. A block of tofu is warmed in an earthenware pot over a sheet of kombu and lifted out with a little slotted ladle, then dipped in citrusy soy with spring onion and ginger. It's a winter dish, best eaten slowly at the table on a cold evening. Chef's tip: never let the water boil. The tofu is ready when it trembles and starts to rise; boiling makes it spongy and full of holes.
Chhanar dalna is how Bengal uses its fresh chhena, the same curd cheese that goes into rasgulla and sandesh, for a savoury lunch. Freshly split milk is kneaded with a little flour, pressed, cut into squares and fried, then simmered with potato in a thin, gingery tomato gravy scented with bay leaf and cardamom. It is lighter than a North Indian paneer curry and is a favourite on Thursdays and niramish days in Kolkata homes. Chef's tip: knead the chhena with your palm until it feels smooth and slightly greasy; that is what holds the cubes together in the gravy.
Irio is a Kenyan mash of potatoes with whole corn and kidney beans, fried onion, chilli and butter. It's hearty and comforting. Serve it with a simple tomato stew, as here, or tomato sauce.
Adai is the hearty cousin of the dosa, made in Tamil homes for a weekend breakfast or an early dinner, and in Tamil Brahmin families traditionally served with avial and a lump of jaggery and white butter. Rice and a mix of toor, chana, urad and moong dal are soaked and ground coarsely with red chillies, ginger and hing, so the batter needs no fermenting at all. The pancakes are thicker than dosa, crunchy at the edges and soft and gritty in the middle, with a deep, spicy, lentil flavour and plenty of protein. Chef's tip: grind the batter like coarse semolina, not silky; that texture is what gives adai its crisp, lacy rim.
Kootu sits halfway between a dal and a vegetable dish, and in Tamil homes it is the mild, kind side on a lunch plate next to a sharp rasam or a fiery kuzhambu. Chopped vegetables such as chow-chow, snake gourd, cabbage or pumpkin are cooked with moong dal until soft, then thickened with a paste of fresh coconut, cumin and a little green chilli. It's the dish many Tamil grandmothers give children and anyone recovering from a fever. Spoon it over rice with ghee or serve it alongside sambar and poriyal. Chef's tip: grind the coconut paste with the cumin raw, not toasted; the fresh, sweet cumin flavour is what makes kootu taste like kootu.
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.
Akara is fried at dawn on street corners across south-west Nigeria, where it is bought hot in paper and eaten with soft agege bread, or dunked into a bowl of warm ogi (fermented corn porridge). It is made from nothing but peeled beans, onion, chilli and salt, whipped until airy, then dropped into hot oil, so the outside turns crisp and craggy while the inside stays soft and light. It is a weekend breakfast at home too, often with custard or pap. Chef's tip: beat the blended bean paste hard for a few minutes before frying; the trapped air is what makes akara puff instead of turning heavy and oily.
Moi moi (also written moin moin) is the soft, savoury bean pudding of Yorubaland that turns up at every Lagos party beside jollof, and in lunchboxes and on Sunday breakfast plates with ogi or custard. Peeled black-eyed beans are blended with red pepper, onion and oil, then steamed until set and sliceable, like a light, spicy terrine. Traditionally it is wrapped in broad uma (thaumatococcus) leaves; ramekins or foil cups work at home. Party versions often hide boiled egg or fish inside; this one is fully plant-based. Chef's tip: the batter should drop thickly from a spoon, like a cake batter; too runny and the moi moi never firms up.
In Lagos, ewa agoyin is the breakfast you buy from a woman with a big cooler of soft, mashed beans and a second pot of almost-black pepper sauce glistening with palm oil. The name points to the Agoyin, people from neighbouring Togo and Benin who made the dish famous in Lagos markets, and it is eaten with soft, chewy agege bread or fried plantain. The beans are the small, naturally sweet brown 'honey beans' (ewa oloyin), cooked until they collapse. The sauce is the star: dried chillies and onions fried slowly in palm oil until deep brown, smoky and slightly bitter-sweet. Chef's tip: don't rush the sauce; the onions need to go from soft to very dark brown slowly over a medium-low heat, which is where the smoky depth comes from.
Chana jor garam is sold from a tin box slung round a vendor's neck on the Kolkata Maidan, at Babughat and along Esplanade, with a sing-song call to match its name. Chickpeas are soaked, pressed flat, and fried or roasted until crunchy, then tossed to order with raw onion, tomato, green chilli, coriander, lime and a spice mix, and handed over in a paper cone. It is lighter than jhalmuri and much crunchier. The same snack is sold on Mumbai beaches; this is the Kolkata cart version. Chef's tip: flatten the soaked chickpeas while still damp, with a rolling pin between two cloths, so they split into thin discs.
Pappu (dal) is the backbone of an Andhra meal, and tomato pappu is the one most Telugu households cook on an ordinary weekday. Toor dal is cooked with plenty of ripe tomatoes, onion, green chillies and a little tamarind, then mashed to a thick, rustic consistency and finished with a fierce garlic and red chilli popu (tempering). It's tangier and hotter than a North Indian dal, and it's mixed into hot rice with a spoon of ghee and eaten with avakaya pickle and a crisp fried vegetable. Chef's tip: mash the dal and tomatoes together with a whisk or a wooden mathu while hot; it gives the creamy, slightly rough texture that blending never does.
Dhokar dalna comes from the Bengali niramish (vegetarian) kitchen of widows and temple cooks, and it is still cooked in Kolkata homes for festive lunches and Saraswati Puja. Soaked chana dal is ground, cooked with ginger and asafoetida into a thick paste, set in a tray and cut into diamonds, which are fried and then dropped into a thin, fragrant gravy just before serving. The dhoka soak up the sauce like a sponge. Chef's tip: cook the dal paste until it leaves the sides of the pan in one mass; if it is too soft, the diamonds break in the gravy.
No Karnataka festival lunch on a banana leaf is complete without a spoonful of kosambari at the top left corner. This raw salad of soaked split moong dal, cucumber, carrot and fresh coconut, sharpened with lemon and finished with a mustard-seed tempering, is especially made for Ram Navami, when it is offered in temples with panaka (jaggery water), and for Ugadi and weddings. It is crunchy, cool and refreshing, and packed with protein. Chef's tip: add the salt and lemon only just before serving; salted cucumber weeps water and turns the salad soggy within half an hour.
No word says home cooking in Bangladesh like bhorta: anything boiled, roasted or fried, then mashed by hand with raw mustard oil, sliced onion, green or burnt chillies and coriander. A family lunch in Dhaka or Khulna might set out three or four bhortas in little heaps around a mound of rice, and this page makes the classic trio: aloo (potato), begun (fire-roasted aubergine) and dal (dry-fried red lentil). They share one method, so they live together here. Chef's tip: mash with your fingers, not a fork, rubbing the onion and chilli into the oil first; it bruises them and releases their sharpness into every bite.
In Dhaka, the first heavy monsoon downpour sends people home craving bhuna khichuri, and Eid mornings in old Dhaka often start with a pot of it too. Unlike the loose, porridge-like khichdi of north India, the Bangladeshi bhuna version is dry and fluffy: dry-roasted moong dal and short-grain rice are fried in ghee with onions and whole spices until fragrant, then cooked with just enough water so the grains stay separate. Serve it hot with begun bhaja, a bhorta or two and a spoon of pickle. Chef's tip: roast the moong dal in a dry pan until it smells like toasted nuts before you wash it; that roasted note is what makes this khichuri taste of Bangladesh.
Linseneintopf is the one-pot lentil stew that German families cook on cold weekdays, and in many school and works canteens it's still the Thursday or Saturday lunch. Brown lentils simmer with potatoes, carrots, celeriac and leek until thick and soft; the finishing touch, all over Germany, is a good splash of vinegar at the table, which wakes the whole bowl up. It's usually made with smoked sausage or bacon; here smoked paprika and vegetable stock give the smoky depth instead. Chef's tip: add the vinegar only at the end, because acid added early keeps the lentils hard.
Koshari is the dish of Cairo's streets: whole shops, from Abou Tarek downtown to small corner counters, sell nothing else, and office workers queue for a metal bowl of it at lunchtime. Brown lentils and rice are cooked together, then piled with macaroni, vermicelli and chickpeas, drowned in a sharp cumin-tomato sauce and finished with dakka (garlic vinegar), shatta (chilli sauce) and a heap of dark fried onions. It is cheap, filling and naturally vegan, and every Egyptian eats it differently, so put the sauces on the table. Chef's tip: fry the onions first and cook everything else in their oil; that onion-scented oil is what makes koshari taste like the shops' and not like a plate of separate leftovers.
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.
Shan tofu (to hpu) contains no soy at all: it is a smooth, wobbly block of chickpea flour cooked with water and turmeric, then left to set. Shan women sell it in golden slabs at the five-day markets around Inle Lake and Taunggyi, cut into cubes and dressed as a salad with chilli oil, garlic, vinegar and peanuts, or sliced and fried into crisp fritters. Warm and unset, it's eaten as a porridge (to hpu nway). Chef's tip: whisk constantly as it thickens and keep cooking for a full 8 minutes after it turns thick; undercooked Shan tofu tastes raw and never sets firmly.
Bunny chow was born in Durban, among the city's Indian community, where curry in a hollowed loaf became the takeaway lunch of dockworkers and caddies. Many Durbanites say the first bunnies were vegetarian, filled with sugar beans, and cafés around Grey Street still sell a bean bunny beside the mutton one. A quarter loaf of unsliced white bread is scooped out and filled with a fiery, red Durban curry, with the scooped-out bread (the 'virgin') put back on top for dunking. It is eaten with your hands, with grated carrot and chilli salad on the side. Chef's tip: the curry needs to be thick and saucy, not watery; a runny curry soaks through the loaf before you've finished the first bite.
Ndambé is what Dakar eats for breakfast on the way to work: a thick, peppery stew of black-eyed beans with onion and tomato, sold from pots on street corners and spooned into a split baguette (tapalapa or pain de mie) with a smear of chilli sauce. At home it is just as good with rice or bread for supper. The beans are cooked until some break down and thicken the sauce, so it holds together in the bread. Chef's tip: soak the beans and cook them separately in plain water first; adding the tomato too early keeps the skins tough.
Bobotie is the dish Cape Town is proudest of, brought to the Cape by Malay and Indonesian cooks centuries ago and still baked for Sunday lunch in the Bo-Kaap and across the Western Cape. Its flavour sits between sweet, sour and mildly hot: curry spices, apricot jam, fruit chutney and lemon, with a set egg-and-milk custard on top scented with bay leaves. The classic uses beef mince and milk-soaked bread; here brown lentils carry the spices so well that no bread is needed. Serve with yellow rice, chutney and a sliced banana and tomato sambal. Chef's tip: let the lentil filling cook down until thick and almost dry before baking, or the custard sinks into it instead of setting on top.
Feijoada is Brazil's national dish, the slow black bean stew that Rio de Janeiro and the rest of the country eat for long Saturday lunches. The classic version is loaded with smoked pork; this feijoada vegetariana gets its depth from well-browned mushrooms, smoked paprika and bay instead, with sweet potato melting into the dark, glossy broth. Serve it the proper way: white rice, couve à mineira, farofa and slices of orange to cut the richness. Chef's tip: once the beans are tender, mash a ladleful against the side of the pot and stir it back in. That's how Brazilian cooks get the thick, velvety caldo that coats the rice, rather than a thin soup.
Espinacas con garbanzos is one of the great tapas of Seville, served in little earthenware dishes in the bars around the cathedral and the Triana market. It carries the city's Moorish past in its spices: cumin, smoked paprika and a little vinegar, with a sauce thickened by a paste of garlic and bread fried in olive oil, the old Andalusian trick called a majado. Earthy chickpeas, soft spinach and a sauce rich enough to mop up with bread make it a filling vegan supper too. It is traditional in Seville during Lent. Chef's tip: pound the fried bread and garlic with the spices and vinegar into a thick paste before it goes into the pan; this majado is what gives the dish its smoky, velvety sauce, so don't skip it.
Lentejas estofadas, or lentejas a la española, is the stew that every Spanish household knows from childhood, cooked once a week from Castile to Andalusia. Small brown lentils (pardinas, ideally from Tierra de Campos in León) are simmered with a sofrito of onion, pepper, garlic and tomato, carrot, potato and bay until thick, savoury and soothing. Most families add chorizo; here smoked pimentón de la Vera brings the same smoky warmth. Serve in deep bowls with crusty bread and a few pickled guindilla peppers on the side. Chef's tip: add a splash of sherry vinegar right at the end; it lifts the earthy lentils and is what Spanish grandmothers do to make the stew taste finished.
Baião de dois ('a dance for two') is the pride of Ceará and the Northeast sertão: rice cooked in the broth of feijão-de-corda (a small cowpea; black-eyed peas are the closest match), then folded with cubes of squeaky queijo coalho until they just start to melt. It's usually made with dried beef and bacon; this version keeps the smoky note with paprika and finishes with nutty clarified butter (manteiga de garrafa). It's a one-pot meal on its own, or great with vinagrete. Chef's tip: cook the rice in the bean cooking water, not fresh water. That's what gives baião its brownish colour and deep bean flavour.
Arroz e feijão is the heart of the Brazilian table, eaten at lunch nearly every day from Porto Alegre to Manaus. Each half is simple but made with care: the rice is fried with garlic before simmering so the grains stay loose (soltinho), and the beans are finished with a refogado of onion and garlic that thickens their broth. In the South and Rio black beans are the norm; elsewhere it's the beige carioca bean. Chef's tip: when the beans are tender, fry the garlic and onion, add a ladle of beans and mash them in the pan, then stir it all back into the pot. This tempero is the step that makes Brazilian beans taste like home.
Stew peas is a thick, comforting Jamaican one-pot of red kidney beans simmered in coconut milk until creamy, studded with 'spinners', small hand-rolled dumplings. It's a classic Wednesday or Saturday dinner across the island, usually cooked with pig's tail and salt beef. Here mushrooms browned hard and a little smoked paprika bring the savoury depth instead, so nothing is missing. Serve over plain white rice. Chef's tip: when the beans are soft, crush a ladleful against the side of the pot. Stew peas should be thick enough to coat the back of a spoon, and the crushed beans give that body without any flour.
Tofu bulgogi (두부불고기) takes the famous sweet and savoury bulgogi marinade, usually made for thin slices of beef, and uses it on golden pan-fried tofu instead. It is a popular meat-free dish in homes and temple-style restaurants across Korea. Grated pear sweetens the soy and garlic sauce and makes it glossy, and the tofu is fried first so it holds its shape and soaks up the glaze. Serve with rice, lettuce leaves for wrapping and kimchi. Chef's tip: dry the tofu well and leave it alone in the pan until it releases by itself. A good golden crust is what lets it soak up the glaze without falling apart.
Bindaetteok (빈대떡) are thick, crunchy pancakes made from soaked and ground mung beans mixed with kimchi, bean sprouts and spring onions, then fried in plenty of oil. They are the signature dish of Gwangjang market in Seoul, where stalls grind the beans in stone mills and fry the pancakes in front of you. Market versions often include pork; this one keeps the classic vegetables and is naturally gluten free and rich in protein. The outside turns deep golden and crisp while the inside stays soft. Serve hot with a soy and onion dip. Chef's tip: grind the beans coarse, not silky, and fry in more oil than feels right. The slight grit is what makes Gwangjang-style bindaetteok so crunchy outside and fluffy inside.
Edamame (枝豆) are young green soybeans cooked in their pods, the classic snack with a cold drink in izakaya and beer gardens all over Japan, especially in summer. You squeeze the beans straight from the salty pod into your mouth. Rubbing the pods with salt before boiling seasons them through and keeps them bright green. They're a good source of plant protein too. Chef's tip: rub the pods with salt before boiling, as izakaya cooks do. It scrubs off the fuzz, keeps the pods bright green and seasons the beans inside.
Goya champuru (ゴーヤーチャンプルー) is the best-known dish of Okinawa, Japan's southern islands, where bitter melon (goya) grows on vines in summer. Champuru means 'mixed up' in the Okinawan language: slices of goya are stir-fried with firm tofu and egg, and the bitterness is balanced by soy and the richness of the egg. Pork or Spam is usual; this vegetarian version relies on well-browned tofu. Serve with rice. Chef's tip: scrape out every bit of the white pith from inside the goya. That's where most of the harsh bitterness lives, so a clean scrape gives you the pleasant, refreshing bitterness Okinawans love.
Cubes of tofu coated in seasoned cornflour and fried until crisp, then tossed quickly in a hot wok with sliced white onion, strips of red chilli, green chilli and garlic, and finished with plenty of spring onions. Spicy, crunchy and ready in minutes; serve straight away as a starter or with rice. Like most Thai dishes it is best cooked just before serving, as it doesn't reheat well.
A wholesome, low-calorie twist on khichdi, using bulgar wheat in place of rice. Husked green gram lentils and bulgar cook in the pressure cooker with peas, cauliflower, potato and onion, tempered with a little ghee, cumin and whole spices. Soft, comforting and filling; serve hot with banana raita or plain yogurt.
A warm, protein-rich and low-calorie bhel of mixed sprouts (green grams, bengal grams and moth beans) quickly cooked with cumin, onion, garlic, ginger, green chilli, tomato and spices, then finished with lemon and coriander. Ready in 15 minutes; serve hot as a snack or light meal.
A quick, low-calorie way to use leftover rice: sprouted moth beans and green grams are cooked with garlic, ginger, green chilli, capsicum, spring onions and a few spices over a cumin and asafoetida tempering, then tossed with cooked rice. Served hot with fresh tomato and coriander.
A crunchy, high-fibre and low-calorie salad of boiled sprouted pulses (moth beans, chickpeas, green grams) with apple, orange segments, grapes, radish, salad leaves and spinach, lifted with a little green chilli. A light mint and yogurt dressing goes on just before serving. Serve chilled as a starter or light lunch.
Golden fried paneer cubes layered with a creamy, nutmeg-scented spinach sauce and a garlicky tomato gravy, then baked under cheese. Serve hot with naan or bread.
A simple, filling one-pan sauce of chickpeas, onion, celery and garlic simmered in tomato puree and tossed with pasta. Finished with chopped parsley, it is a good everyday supper.
The Punjabi favourite: whole black grams and a little chana dal cooked long and slow until creamy, then simmered with tomato, kasoori methi, nutmeg and butter and finished with milk and cream. It's rich, smoky-tasting and velvety. Serve hot dal makhani with naan or tandoori chapati.
A comforting Sindhi dish of spinach, fresh fenugreek, potato and onion pressure cooked with yellow moong dal, coarsely blended and finished with garlic, tamarind and a cumin tempering. It's soft, green and gently tangy. Serve hot with chapaties.
A rich, thick dal of pigeon pea, green gram, black and masoor lentils cooked until meltingly soft with potato, brinjal, spring onion, tomato and fenugreek, then simmered with a spiced coriander paste, tamarind and jaggery. It's sweet, sour and warming. Serve amiri dal with jeera fenugreek paratha.
A Punjabi home favourite: red kidney beans pressure cooked until creamy, then simmered in a deep red masala of ground onion, garlic and ginger, tomatoes and yogurt, and partly mashed so the gravy turns thick and velvety. Serve hot with chapaties or boiled rice.
Soya granules soaked until soft and cooked like a kheema with lots of browned onion, ginger, garlic, tomato, fresh fenugreek and coriander, spiced with cinnamon and clove. It's hearty and high in protein, with a texture just like mince. Serve hot with naan or bread.
Paneer two ways, fried cubes and coarsely grated, with green peas in a silky gravy of onion, tomato, yogurt and cream, flavoured with whole spices, poppy seeds and cashews and then blended smooth. It's rich and mildly spiced. Serve hot with naan.
A quick pressure-cooker curry of chana dal and plenty of spinach with onion, tomato, ginger, garlic and green chilli. It's earthy, lightly spiced and full of goodness. Serve hot with chapaties or boiled rice. For a change, use green gram lentils with skin (soaked for 8 hours, then washed to remove the skins), or replace the lentils with four potatoes cut into 1 cm cubes and ½ tbsp lemon juice.
Jacket potatoes split and piled with a spicy kidney bean and capsicum chilli, topped with sour cream and served with a crunchy mixed salad. A filling supper for two.
The South Indian classic: smooth pigeon pea dal cooked with ridge gourd and drumsticks, soured with tamarind and spiced with sambhar masala, curry leaves and mustard seeds. It's tangy, thin enough to pour and full of flavour. Serve hot sambhar with idlis, masala dhosa or uttapam.
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