Mocktails and cool drinks

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Hummus el shamHot chickpeas with tahini

When the cold winds of January blow through Cairo and Alexandria, carts with steaming copper pots appear on street corners, outside universities and along the Corniche. The vendor ladles hummus el sham — Levantine chickpeas — into glasses: soft chickpeas in their own cooking broth, seasoned with lemon, cumin, salt and a fiery spoon of shatta, sometimes with tomato and chopped onion. It is drunk and eaten with a spoon, a warming, peppery, sour-salty cup that is very different from the dip. The common mistake is using undercooked chickpeas or draining away the cooking water: the broth is the drink, and it should be cloudy and slightly thick from chickpeas that are soft enough to crush between your fingers. A pinch of bicarbonate of soda in the pot helps them soften, as Cairo vendors do. It is ready when the broth tastes deeply of chickpeas and lemon, the cumin is fragrant and the chilli leaves a warm burn. Adjust the heat for children. Canned chickpeas with their liquid work in a pinch: simmer them for 10 minutes with fresh water. Chef's tip: squeeze the lemon into each cup at the end; boiled lemon turns bitter.

85 min

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Yansoon (anise tea)

Every Cairo ahwa has yansoon on its menu, chalked up next to tea and helba, and in Egyptian homes it is the drink of evenings, colds and upset stomachs. It is made with green aniseed, often from Upper Egypt, simmered briefly and sweetened. People reach for it after a feast at Eid, during winter coughs, or simply at night because it is caffeine-free and traditionally drunk to calm and help sleep. It is pale gold and sweet, with a soft liquorice scent and a slightly peppery warmth at the end. Many Egyptian mothers give a weak version to infants, but herbal teas are not suitable for babies under six months; ask your doctor first. The common mistake is boiling the seeds for too long, which makes the tea cloudy and bitter: crush them lightly, boil for only a few minutes, then let them steep off the heat. Also do not swap in star anise, a different plant with a harsher taste. It is ready when the liquid is light golden and smells strongly of anise when you lift the lid. Chef's tip: a thin slice of lemon or a few drops of lemon juice brightens the cup without hiding the anise.

12 min

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Batido de lechosaPapaya and orange shake

Lechosa is what Venezuelans call papaya, and on breakfast tables from Valencia to Puerto La Cruz it turns up as a batido beside arepas or empanadas, often blended with the oranges that are piled cheap in every market. It is thick, smooth and sunset-orange, tasting of honeyed papaya and bright citrus, and it fills you up until lunch. Some families blend it with milk instead of juice, which turns it into a creamy merengada. The common mistake with milk is letting it stand: papaya's natural enzyme starts to turn milk bitter within half an hour, so drink it straight away. Another mistake is scraping the seed cavity too hard; the black seeds and their slippery coating make the batido bitter and peppery. It is ready when there are no fibres left, it pours in a thick stream and the colour is an even orange. Choose papaya that is mostly yellow-orange and gives slightly under your thumb; a green-streaked one tastes flat and a little musky. Chef's tip: a few drops of lime juice cut through papaya's musky note and make it taste fresher.

5 min

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Café guayoyoLong black coffee

In the coffee villages of the Venezuelan Andes, in Trujillo, Mérida and Táchira, the day starts in the dark with a pot of guayoyo, and it never really stops: a cup at breakfast with arepas, one mid-morning, one after lunch, one at the bodega counter in the afternoon. Guayoyo is the opposite of a short, dark negrito: plenty of water through a modest amount of coffee, poured through a colador de tela, a cotton cloth sock on a wire ring. It is light-bodied, mild and clean, closer to tea in strength, with gentle chocolate notes and almost no bitterness, so it is easy to drink cup after cup. It still has caffeine, so count the cups. The common mistake is pouring boiling water onto the grounds, which pulls out bitter flavours; let the kettle rest off the boil for a minute first. Never wash the cloth with soap either, or every cup tastes soapy. The coffee is ready when it runs through amber-brown, clear enough to see the bottom of a white cup. Sweeten with papelón (raw cane sugar) if you like. Chef's tip: keep the rinsed cloth in a jar of water in the fridge between uses so it never smells stale.

10 min

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MerengadaStrawberry milk shake

Ask for a batido in Venezuela and you get fruit blended with water; ask for a merengada and it comes with milk, frothy and pale. The name is said to come from the old habit of beating in a little egg white like a meringue, which few cooks do now. Every panadería and fuente de soda from Maracaibo to Barcelona has a row of fruits on the counter, and strawberry from the Andes of Mérida, banana and guava are the favourites, ordered with a cachito or a pastelito at breakfast or as an after-school treat. A good merengada is cold, light and foamy, tasting clearly of fruit, not just of sweet milk. The common mistake is too little ice and too much milk, which gives a thin, warm drink with no froth. Blend the fruit with part of the milk first until perfectly smooth, then add the ice and the rest of the milk and blend hard. It is ready when a thick layer of pink foam sits on top and no fruit pieces are left. Banana or guava (strain the guava for seeds) work the same way. Chef's tip: frozen strawberries make it frostier; cut the ice by half if you use them.

5 min

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TizanaFruit in orange juice

On Sunday afternoons in Caracas, juice stands along the boulevards of Sabana Grande and the Plaza Altamira, and street carts outside beaches and parks, sell tizana in tall plastic cups with a straw and a long spoon. It is half drink, half fruit salad: papaya, pineapple, melon, watermelon, apple, mango and banana cut into tiny dice and soaked in orange juice tinted ruby with grenadine. At home it is made by the jug for birthday parties and hot holidays. It tastes juicy, sweet and bright, and every sip brings a different fruit up the straw. The common mistake is adding the banana and apple with everything else an hour early: they turn brown and mushy and cloud the juice. Cut them last and stir them in just before serving. The tizana is ready when the fruit has soaked for about 30 minutes in the fridge, the juice has turned a clear coral-pink and the pieces are cold right through. Make the dice no bigger than 1 cm so they pass up a wide straw. Grenadine here means pomegranate syrup; a red fruit syrup works too. Chef's tip: squeeze a little lime over the cut apple and banana to keep them pale and add a tang that lifts the whole jug.

25 min

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Sorbete de curubaBanana passionfruit milk drink

In Colombia a sorbete is not an ice but a fruit milkshake, and around Bogotá and the cold highlands of Boyacá and Cundinamarca the classic is made with curuba, the long, soft-skinned banana passionfruit that grows on vines at 2,500 metres. Bakeries and corrientazo lunch spots serve it with almuerzo or with a slice of cake at onces, the late-afternoon snack. It is pale salmon-pink, creamy and sweet-tart, more delicate than passionfruit, with a fragrance like guava and lemon. The common mistake is blending the pulp with its black seeds on high speed: the seeds break up and the sorbete turns bitter and grey-flecked. Pulse just enough to loosen the pulp from the seeds, strain, and only then blend with milk. Serve it at once, because the acid in curuba thickens the milk the longer it stands. It is ready when it is smooth, frothy and pink with no gritty specks. Outside Colombia look for frozen curuba pulp in Latin shops; passionfruit pulp works too, but use about two thirds of the amount as it is stronger. Chef's tip: dissolve the sugar in the strained juice before the milk goes in, so you can blend for less time.

10 min

Colombian Drinks

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CortaditoEspresso with steamed milk

Havana runs on small cups of coffee: a cafecito standing at a ventanita, a colada shared in tiny plastic cups at work, and in the afternoon or with breakfast, a cortadito, which is Cuban coffee cut (cortado) with roughly as much hot milk. The coffee is brewed in a stovetop cafetera, and the first dark drops are whipped hard with sugar into a pale, thick espumita that floats on top of the cup. The result is rich, very sweet and caramel-like, with a velvety milk body and a strong, bitter edge underneath. It is high in caffeine, so it is not one for children. The common mistake is adding sugar to the pot or stirring it in at the end; without the espumita you get a thin, flat drink. Beat the first concentrated coffee with the sugar until it turns light tan and holds soft folds, then pour in the rest. It is ready when a pale foam floats on the cup and the milk has been heated until steaming, with small bubbles around the edge but not boiling. Chef's tip: catch only the first 2–3 teaspoons of coffee for the foam; later coffee is too thin to whip.

10 min

Cuban Drinks

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Batido de mameyMamey milkshake

In Havana and all over the island, the cafeteria counter has a blender that never stops, turning out batidos of mango, guanábana, papaya and the favourite of all, mamey. The fruit has a rough brown skin and a soft, salmon-red flesh that tastes like sweet potato, pumpkin pie, almond and apricot at once, and blended with cold milk it makes a shake so thick it is almost a dessert. It is drunk mid-afternoon on hot days, at breakfast with toast, or at a kid's birthday party; Miami's Cuban cafés keep the tradition alive with frozen pulp. The common mistake is using a hard mamey, which tastes starchy and slightly bitter; the fruit must give like a ripe avocado when pressed and show deep red flesh when you scratch the skin with a fingernail. The batido is ready when it is smooth, pumpkin-orange and pours slowly in a thick ribbon. Frozen mamey pulp from Latin American shops is a good substitute; reduce the ice because the pulp is already cold. Chef's tip: a pinch of salt and a drop of vanilla bring out mamey's almond notes.

5 min

Cuban Drinks

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Prú orientalSpiced root drink

In Santiago de Cuba, Guantánamo and Baracoa, prú is sold from plastic bottles at the kitchen door and poured at every birthday, often next to a slab of cake. The recipe came from Haitian and French-Caribbean coffee planters who settled in the east, and families still keep a "madre", a starter jar from the last batch. Roots of raíz de China and bejuco ubí are boiled with pine, cinnamon and allspice, sweetened and left to ferment for a few days. It tastes like a wild, earthy root beer: woody, spiced, a little bitter, with a soft prickle. Fermentation makes a trace of alcohol, well under 1% if drunk young. Outside Cuba use dried sarsaparilla root, a close relative of China root. The common mistake is sealing bottles too early and leaving them warm, which builds dangerous pressure; use a plastic test bottle and chill once it is firm. It is ready when tiny bubbles rise and it smells sweet-sour, not yeasty. Throw it out if it grows fuzzy mould, turns slimy or smells rotten. Pregnant people should skip the pine needles, and anyone on medication should check with a doctor about herbal roots. Chef's tip: keep 250 ml back as the madre for your next batch.

70 min

Cuban Drinks

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Sharbat-e rivas (rhubarb sherbet)

For a few weeks in spring, after Nowruz, sellers come down from the Alborz foothills, the mountains of Khorasan and Kurdistan with bundles of rivas, the thick-stalked wild rhubarb. People peel and eat the stalks raw with salt, cook them into khoresh, and boil the rest into syrup to keep the taste of the season into summer. Sharbat-e rivas is pink, sharp and refreshing, like sour cherry and green apple together, softened by sugar and lifted by mint. The common mistake is boiling the rhubarb hard and pressing it through the sieve, which makes the syrup cloudy, brownish and stringy; simmer gently and let it drip on its own. Use only the stalks, never the leaves, which are poisonous. The syrup is ready when it is clear, rose-coloured and coats a spoon in a thin film; it keeps for two weeks in a clean bottle in the fridge, and should be thrown away if it fizzes, smells of alcohol or grows mould. Garden rhubarb is a good substitute for rivas; the reddest stalks give the prettiest colour. Chef's tip: a strip of lemon peel in the pot brightens the colour and stops the syrup tasting flat.

40 min

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Sharbat-e zaferan (saffron sherbet)

Big steel urns of golden saffron sherbet are poured for guests at Iranian weddings and engagement parties, and the same drink is handed out on the street as nazri during Muharram and at memorial gatherings, when families offer something sweet and cool in the name of the departed. Saffron from Khorasan is ground with a sugar cube, bloomed in a little water and stirred into syrup with rose water and lemon. The result is honey-sweet and floral, with saffron's faint bitterness and hay-like perfume at the end, and a colour that should be a clear, sunny orange-gold. The usual mistake is dropping whole threads straight into cold water, which gives a pale, patchy drink and wastes expensive saffron; grind it first and let it bloom for at least 10 minutes. You know the bloom is ready when the water is a deep red-orange and smells strongly of saffron. Taste before serving: it should be sweet but finish clean, with the lemon just noticeable. Chef's tip: an ice cube placed on the ground saffron and left to melt slowly gives the deepest colour of all, an old Iranian trick.

20 min

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Sharbat-e bidmeshk (willow blossom sherbet)

Kashan and the villages of Qamsar and Niasar are famous for distilling flowers in spring: rose water in May, and before that araq-e bidmeshk, the distillate of the fuzzy catkins of the musk willow. In summer, when the desert heat settles over the old houses, the same bottles go into sharbat-e bidmeshk, a pale syrup diluted with icy water and served to guests in tall glasses, sometimes with swollen basil seeds. It is traditionally drunk to calm the nerves and cool the body. The taste is delicate, sweet and haunting, somewhere between honeysuckle, musk and fresh hay. The common mistake is adding the distillate to hot syrup; the heat drives the scent away within minutes, so cool the syrup completely first. The syrup is ready when it is clear and pours like thin honey, and the finished sherbet should smell floral the moment you lift the glass. Look for the distillate in Iranian shops; there is no true substitute, though rose water with a few drops of orange-blossom water makes a pleasant but different drink. Chef's tip: a squeeze of lemon in the syrup stops it crystallising in the fridge, where it keeps for a month.

15 min

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Chai nabat (saffron rock candy tea)

Pilgrims leaving Mashhad carry home boxes of saffron nabat, crystals of rock candy grown on a string and tinted gold with Khorasani saffron. Across Iran a glass of chai nabat is what you are handed when you feel unwell, after a shock, after an exam, or late at night when the evening meal sits heavy; it is traditionally drunk to settle the stomach and warm you up. The tea is brewed strong in a teapot that sits on top of the kettle, then poured clear and amber into small glasses, and the nabat stick is stirred until it softens the tea with a gentle, honeyed sweetness and a faint saffron aroma. Black tea has a moderate amount of caffeine, so give children a weaker glass. A common mistake is boiling the leaves or letting them steep on direct heat, which turns the tea bitter and murky; Persian tea is "dam" — brewed gently on steam. It is ready when the leaves have sunk, the tea is clear and reddish-amber and it smells of bergamot or cardamom. Chef's tip: hold the glass up to the light; if you can't see through it, top it up with hot water, as Iranians do.

15 min

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TahoWarm tofu with syrup and sago

Before eight in the morning in any Philippine barangay you hear the call "Tahooo!" as the magtataho walks past with two aluminium buckets balanced on a shoulder pole: one holds warm, wobbly silken tofu, the other dark arnibal syrup and sago. He scoops paper-thin layers of tofu into a plastic cup with a flat ladle, pours syrup over and adds the pearls, and children eat it standing at the gate with a spoon or slurp it through a wide straw. The taste is caramel and soy milk; the texture is custard-soft tofu against chewy pearls. Baguio has its own pink strawberry version. The common mistake is cooking the sago in too little water or not stirring at the start, so the pearls glue into a lump; use plenty of boiling water and stir for the first two minutes. The sago is ready when the pearls are translucent with only a tiny white dot left in the centre, and the arnibal is right when it coats a spoon like thin maple syrup. Chef's tip: steam the tofu in its box or bowl rather than boiling it, so it stays in one silky piece. Small sago pearls are a choking risk for babies and toddlers, so serve them only to older children.

45 min

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Melon juice (cantaloupe drink)

Afternoon merienda across the Philippines means something cold from a plastic cooler at the school gate, a jeepney stop or a carinderia: sago't gulaman, buko juice or this melon drink, with ribbons of orange cantaloupe suspended in sweet water. Vendors scrape the melon with a special spiral shredder, a kayod ng melon, so you get thin strands to chew through a fat straw. It tastes fresh, sweet and gently musky, more refreshing than a smoothie because the water stays clear and light; some stalls add evaporated milk, but the plain version is the classic. The common mistake is using a melon that is not fully ripe, which gives pale, crunchy strands and a flat drink; choose one that smells sweet at the stem end and gives slightly when pressed there. Shred straight into the jug so the juice from the melon is not lost. It is ready when the strands are soft and floating, the water has turned faintly orange and it tastes of melon rather than plain syrup. Chef's tip: a box grater's coarse side or a fork scraped along the flesh both work if you don't own a melon shredder.

15 min

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Kapeng barakoStrong Liberica coffee

In Lipa and the hill towns of Batangas, mornings start with kapeng barako boiled in a dented aluminium kaldero and poured into enamel mugs, often next to pandesal, a slab of tapang Taal or a plate of suman. Barako is Liberica, a large-beaned coffee that grows on tall trees around Mount Malarayat, and the word itself means a strong, rough-mannered man. The cup is heavy and earthy with notes of jackfruit, dark chocolate and smoke, and it is sweetened with sticky muscovado from Negros or Antique, never with white sugar. It carries plenty of caffeine, so go easy if you are sensitive and keep it away from children. The usual mistake is keeping the pot at a rolling boil once the coffee is in: the grounds stew and the drink turns sour and harsh. Bring the water to the boil, then take it off the heat before adding the coffee. The brew is ready when the crust of grounds sinks after the splash of cold water and the liquid underneath is a clear, deep mahogany. Chef's tip: grind it coarse, like raw sugar, so it settles cleanly in the pot.

11 min

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Calamansi juice

Every Filipino household seems to have a calamansi bush or a bag of the little green fruit in the fridge, from Manila condos to farmhouses in Mindoro, the island that grows most of them. At lunch in the dry season the juice comes out iced in a big pitcher; in the rainy months, when everyone has a cough, a lola stirs the same juice into hot water with a little sugar or honey and hands it over at bedtime. It tastes like a lime crossed with a mandarin: sharp, floral and slightly bitter at the edges, with a pale green-gold colour. The usual mistake is squeezing the fruit hard and letting the seeds and pith fall in, which turns the juice bitter within minutes; halve each fruit across, squeeze gently over a small strainer and stop before the peel folds. It is ready when the sugar has fully dissolved, the juice tastes bright rather than harsh and a cold glass fogs on the outside. Chef's tip: dissolve the sugar in a little warm water first, as it never melts properly in iced juice.

12 min

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Ranawara teaTanner's cassia flower tea

Ranawara, tanner's cassia, is a scrubby shrub with bright golden flowers that grows wild along dry-zone roadsides and in gardens from Kurunegala to Jaffna. The flowers are picked, dried in the shade and sold in packets at every Sri Lankan supermarket and ayurvedic shop, and many households drink a cup each morning instead of plantain tea, traditionally believing it helps balance blood sugar and cool the body during the hot season. It brews into a pale golden-yellow tea with a mild, grassy, slightly beany taste and a gentle bitterness, which is why it is drunk with a piece of jaggery or a spoon of kithul treacle. The common mistake is brewing the flowers with too little water or for too long: the bitterness takes over. A good pinch per cup, a short simmer and a few minutes' steep is enough. It is ready when it is clear and bright yellow and smells like dried hay. Ranawara is a senna-family plant: do not drink it if you are pregnant or breastfeeding, do not give it to young children, and check with a doctor if you take diabetes or other regular medication. Chef's tip: add a few dried flowers to the cup when serving; they float and turn the colour even more golden.

12 min

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Beli mal (bael flower tea)

Beli mal is the herbal tea almost every Sri Lankan grandmother keeps in a tin. The small white flowers of the bael tree, the sacred tree found around temples and village gardens, are dried in the sun and brewed into a fragrant, amber drink that tastes softly floral, slightly fruity and a little bitter, a bit like a lighter chamomile. It is drunk in the morning or in the evening instead of black tea, offered at almsgivings and alongside kevum and kokis at Avurudu, and is traditionally taken after rich food to help digestion. Coriander seeds and a slice of ginger are a common addition at home. The custom is to sip it hot with a small piece of kithul jaggery held in the mouth, or stirred in. The common mistake is boiling the flowers fast for a long time: the tea turns dark and unpleasantly bitter. Simmer gently for a few minutes and then let it steep off the heat. It is ready when the tea is clear amber and smells sweet and flowery. It is caffeine-free, but bael may lower blood sugar, so check with a doctor if you take diabetes medication or are pregnant. Chef's tip: buy flowers that look pale cream; dark brown, crumbly ones are old.

13 min

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Thambili (king coconut water)

All along Sri Lanka's roads, from Galle Road in Colombo to the highways into Kandy and the beaches of the south coast, vendors stack bright orange king coconuts in pyramids under umbrellas. The thambili is a variety grown on the island for drinking: smaller than a green coconut and sweeter, with a faint saltiness that makes it more refreshing than any bottled drink. It is drunk any time of day in the heat, after a long bus ride, after a cricket match, and given to people recovering from a fever because it is gentle on the stomach. The water is clear, lightly sweet and nutty, and the soft jelly inside is eaten with a spoon made from a slice of the husk. The common mistake is hacking at the side of the nut; the blade glances off and the water spills. Trim the pointed top with downward strokes until a pale circle shows, then pierce it. It is ready to drink when a small hole opens straight into the water without husk fibres. Outside Sri Lanka, young green or Thai coconuts are the nearest substitute. Chef's tip: chill the coconuts for a few hours before opening; the water tastes sweeter cold, and use a heavy knife and a towel, keeping fingers well clear.

5 min

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Tisane de tilleul (linden tea)

Carpentras, at the foot of Mont Ventoux, has been France's linden capital for over a century. In late June the flowering lime trees are harvested by hand, the blossoms and their pale papery bracts dried in the shade, and in July the town's linden market sells them by the sack. In French homes a tisane de tilleul is what you drink after dinner, at the end of a long day or before bed, often with a slice of lemon or a little honey; Proust's famous madeleine was dipped in one. It tastes softly floral and sweet, a little like honey and fresh hay, with a smooth, almost silky feel. The common mistake is using fully boiling water and steeping for fifteen minutes: the tea turns dull brown and slightly astringent. Let the kettle settle to about 90 °C and steep for 5–7 minutes, covered. It is ready when the infusion is pale gold and smells of a summer garden. It is traditionally drunk to unwind; if you take regular medication, have a heart condition, or want to give it to young children, check with a doctor first. Chef's tip: keep the pot covered while it steeps so the scented oils stay in the tea instead of the kitchen.

10 min

French Drinks

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Diabolo mentheMint syrup and lemonade

Ask anyone who grew up in France about diabolo menthe and they will remember sitting on a café terrace after school, or on holiday in Brittany or the Vendée, with a tall glass of startling green fizz and a straw. It is simply sirop de menthe, the sweet mint syrup sold in every French supermarket, topped up with limonade, which in France means a clear, lightly sweet, lemony fizzy drink. Grenadine makes a diabolo grenadine, lemon syrup a diabolo citron. It tastes cool, minty and sweet, like a liquid mint sweet, with a sharp sparkle. The common mistake is pouring the syrup on top of the lemonade: it sinks in a dense layer and you drink plain fizz followed by pure syrup. Put the syrup in the glass first and pour the lemonade down the side so it mixes as it rises. It is ready when the glass is an even mint-green from bottom to top and still fizzing hard. Café ratio is about one part syrup to seven parts lemonade. Chef's tip: for a homemade syrup, steep a big handful of fresh mint in hot sugar syrup for 30 minutes and strain; it will be pale gold-green rather than emerald, and tastes fresher.

3 min

French Drinks

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Citron presséFresh lemon drink

Order a citron pressé on a Paris terrace in July, or at a café in Nice after the beach, and the waiter brings a tall glass with an inch of freshly squeezed lemon juice, a carafe of iced water, a sugar bowl or a little jug of syrup and a long spoon. You build the drink yourself, as sharp or as sweet as you like, which is half the pleasure; French children learn to drink it with plenty of sugar, grown-ups often with almost none. It is bright, sour and cleansing, nothing like bottled lemonade, and best in the late afternoon heat. The common mistake is stirring granulated sugar straight into cold lemon water: it sinks and never dissolves, so the first sips are sour and the last a sludge. Dissolve the sugar in the juice first, or use a quick syrup. It is ready when the sugar has vanished, the drink tastes balanced to you and the glass is beaded with cold. Unwaxed lemons matter if you add a twist of peel. Chef's tip: pour the water over ice slowly and taste after half the carafe; most people find they need less water than they expect.

5 min

French Drinks

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Caffè alla nocciolaEspresso with hazelnut cream

Naples takes its espresso seriously, and its bars along Via Toledo and the Lungomare also serve this richer cousin: a small glass cup smeared with hazelnut cream, a hot ristretto poured in, and a cap of cremina, the pale foam Neapolitans make by beating the first drops of coffee with sugar. It is drunk standing at the counter at mid-morning or after lunch as a little treat, and in summer the same flavours come as a cold crema al caffè. It tastes of roasted hazelnut and dark coffee, sweet and nutty, with a soft, airy foam that melts into the cup. The common mistake is whisking the cremina with too much coffee: it stays liquid and never turns pale. Use just a teaspoon of the first, thick drops and beat hard. It is ready when the foam is light beige, thick and falls from the spoon in ribbons. Espresso means a fair amount of caffeine, so keep this one for grown-ups. Chef's tip: warm the glass under hot water first and swirl the hazelnut cream up the sides; the hot coffee melts it into stripes as it goes in.

6 min

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Spremuta di arance rosseFresh blood orange juice

From December to April the orchards on the plain below Etna, around Catania, Lentini and Paternò, are heavy with Tarocco, Moro and Sanguinello blood oranges. The cold Etna nights turn their flesh red, and in Catania bars the barista squeezes them to order on a lever press, serving the spremuta beside a cornetto or a granita at breakfast. It is sweet, juicy and tart, tasting of orange with hints of raspberry and cherry, and the colour runs from streaky pink to deep garnet depending on the variety. The common mistake is squeezing the oranges hours ahead or pressing the white pith too hard: the juice turns bitter and the colour goes brown. Squeeze just before drinking, press gently and stop before you grind into the skin. It is ready when the juice is bright and frothy on top and tastes balanced, with no bitter aftertaste. Moro oranges give the darkest juice; Tarocco is sweetest. Outside Sicily, any blood orange works, or mix half ordinary oranges with half blood oranges. Chef's tip: roll each orange firmly on the counter before cutting; it softens the segments so you get more juice with less pressing.

5 min

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Caffè lecceseEspresso with almond milk over ice

In Lecce and the towns of Salento, summer mornings start at the bar with a caffè in ghiaccio, and the local version, a fairly recent invention now poured everywhere from Otranto to Gallipoli, adds a pour of latte di mandorla: the sweet almond-milk syrup Puglian bakers have made for generations from local almonds. A short glass is filled with ice, the almond syrup goes in, and a hot espresso is poured straight over so it cracks the ice and blends into a pale, cold, nutty coffee. It is sweet without being sticky, with a marzipan aroma and a clean bitter finish. The common mistake is letting the espresso cool before pouring: it no longer melts and mixes with the dense syrup, which then sits at the bottom. Pull the shot and pour it at once, then stir. It is ready when the drink is evenly caramel-coloured and the glass feels icy. Lecce bars serve it from about May to late September, often with a pasticciotto. Espresso means a fair hit of caffeine. Chef's tip: if you can only find unsweetened almond drink, stir 1 tsp of sugar into it first, but real Puglian almond syrup gives the true taste.

4 min

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Caffè shakeratoShaken iced espresso

When July heat settles over Italian piazzas, bar regulars from Rome to Bologna switch their morning or after-lunch espresso for a shakerato. The barista pulls a fresh shot, tips it into a cocktail shaker with ice and sugar, shakes hard for fifteen seconds and strains it into a chilled martini or wine glass, where it settles into a dark body under a thick, beige, mousse-like crema. It tastes intense and bittersweet, colder and smoother than iced coffee, with a texture almost like a light cream. The common mistake is using too little ice or shaking half-heartedly: the coffee stays warm and the foam collapses within seconds. Fill the shaker at least half full with ice and shake until the metal is too cold to hold comfortably. It is ready when you hear the ice rattle softly and the shaker frosts over, and the pour has a thick foam on top. One shaker holds one double espresso, so it is fairly strong in caffeine. Chef's tip: dissolve the sugar in the hot espresso before adding ice; granulated sugar barely melts once the coffee is cold.

5 min

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Nam lamyai (longan drink)

Longan orchards cover the valleys of Chiang Mai and Lamphun, and every August the harvest is smoked and dried in big brick ovens so the fruit lasts all year. That dried lamyai is the base of nam lamyai, sold in plastic bags with a straw at Warorot Market, at roadside stalls on the way to Doi Suthep and in school canteens across the north, especially in the hot season from March to May. It tastes like toffee and smoked honey with a light floral note, and each glass comes with a few plump, chewy longans at the bottom to fish out. The common mistake is boiling the fruit too long with all the sugar at the start: the drink turns syrupy and the longans go mushy. Simmer the fruit first, sweeten at the end and taste before adding everything. It is ready when the liquid is clear amber-brown, the longans have swollen back to roughly their fresh size and the kitchen smells of caramel. It keeps 4 days in a closed jug in the fridge. Chef's tip: a tiny pinch of salt is the street-vendor trick that makes the sweetness taste rounder and brings out the smoky edge.

30 min

Thai Drinks

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Kafae boran (old-style Thai coffee)

Before espresso bars reached Bangkok, coffee in Thailand meant kafae boran from Hainanese-Chinese shophouses and market carts: a dark robusta roast mixed with toasted grains, poured through a long cotton sock called a tung tom and stirred into thick sweetened condensed milk. Uncles still order it hot at 6 am with patongko dough sticks, and in the afternoon heat the same brew is poured over crushed ice and topped with evaporated milk as oliang or kafae yen. The taste is strong, roasty and slightly smoky, sweet and creamy, with a faint caramel-cereal edge from the grains; the iced version is silky and cold. The common mistake is brewing it like filter coffee with too little grounds: once milk and ice go in, it tastes thin. Use plenty, steep it in the sock and pour it through twice. The brew is ready when it is opaque, nearly black and leaves a brown film on a white spoon. It is high in caffeine, so not one for children or late evenings. Chef's tip: rinse the cloth sock in hot water only, never soap, and keep it in a jar of clean water in the fridge between uses so the coffee oils season it.

10 min

Thai Drinks

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Douzhi (fermented mung bean drink)

Douzhi is the breakfast that divides Beijing. It is the sour liquid left over when mung beans are ground and their starch settles out to make noodles and jelly; left to ferment for a day or two, the grey-green whey turns tangy, a little cheesy and sulphurous. Old Beijingers drink it piping hot at dawn in hutong shops around Qianmen and Huguosi, with a dish of finely shredded salty pickle dressed in chilli oil and crisp fried dough rings (jiaoquan) from the bakery. First-timers often say it smells like stale socks; regulars say it tastes like home. The texture is thin and slightly creamy, the flavour sour, a little bitter and savoury. The common mistake is boiling the soured starch hard: it separates into grey water and sludge. Bring it up slowly, stirring, and take it off as soon as it froths. The ferment makes only a trace of alcohol, well under 1%. Ferment at 20–25 °C; normal signs are fine bubbles, a sour, yogurt-like smell and a grey colour. Discard it if you see fuzzy mould, pink or black patches, a slimy texture or a putrid smell. Chef's tip: save 100 ml of a good batch to start the next one, as Beijing workshops do.

50 min

Chinese Drinks

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Hongzao guiyuan cha (red date and longan tea)

Across southern China, from Fujian to Guangdong, a pot of red dates and dried longan is what mothers and grandmothers put on the stove when the weather turns cold, and it is the classic drink brought to new mothers during zuo yuezi, the month of rest after childbirth. It is also sipped through the winter in the afternoon, or offered to visitors at Lunar New Year because the red dates promise sweetness ahead. The tea is amber-brown, naturally sweet and fruity, with a caramel, smoky depth from the longan and a gentle warmth if you add ginger. The common mistake is simmering whole dates: their skins stay tight and the tea tastes thin. Slit or tear each date so the flesh can give up its sweetness, then simmer slowly. It is ready when the dates are puffed and soft, the longan has swollen and the liquid is the colour of weak tea and tastes of toffee. It is traditionally drunk for comfort and warmth, not as a medicine; it is high in natural sugar, so go easy if you watch your blood sugar, and goji can interact with blood-thinning medicines, so check with a doctor if you take them. Chef's tip: eat the softened fruit from the bottom of the cup with a spoon; nothing is wasted.

40 min

Chinese Drinks

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Aiyu jelly with lemonAiyu fig jelly with lemon

Squeezing a little cloth bag of seeds in a bowl of water until it turns into jelly sounds like a magic trick, yet that's how aiyu has been made for well over a century in Chiayi, at the foot of the Alishan hills where the climbing fig grows wild. The pectin in the dried seeds sets the water into a soft, glassy, pale-gold jelly with almost no taste of its own, so it's cut into cubes and served icy cold with tart lemon juice and honey syrup, the most refreshing thing on a sticky Taipei summer afternoon. The classic failure is a bowl that won't set, usually because the bowl was oily or the water was distilled or very soft; it needs ordinary tap or mineral water. Chef's tip: rub the bag steadily for 8–10 minutes and stop as soon as it feels slippery and nothing more comes out, or the jelly turns cloudy and bitter.

30 min

Taiwanese Drinks

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Atmit (warm barley gruel with spiced butter and honey)

When a baby is born in an Amhara household, visiting women bring or cook atmit for the new mother, and the same soft, sippable gruel is made for anyone recovering from illness. Roasted barley flour (or oat flour) is whisked into water and simmered until it thickens to the texture of a thin custard, then enriched with a spoon of niter kibbeh, honey and a pinch of korerima. It tastes nutty, sweet and buttery, and is drunk warm from a cup rather than eaten with a spoon. Some homes add a little milk for extra richness. A common mistake is tipping the flour straight into hot water, which makes lumps; slake it in cold water first. Chef's tip: keep it thinner than you think; atmit thickens as it cools, and it should still pour easily from the cup.

20 min

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Kuti (Harari coffee-leaf tea)

Harar sits in old coffee country, and its households drink not only the beans but the leaves: kuti is made by toasting dried coffee leaves and brewing them into a light, amber tea. It tastes soft and grassy with a hint of roasted coffee and far less caffeine than a cup of buna, so it is sipped through the afternoon, during long chats and after the fast is broken in Ramadan. Many Harari homes add milk and sugar; leave the milk out or use a plant milk to keep it vegan. Dried coffee leaves are sold as coffee leaf tea by some coffee and tea merchants. Do not swap in cascara, which is the dried coffee cherry husk and makes a different, fruitier drink. Chef's tip: toast the leaves only until they darken a shade and smell like toasted hay; overdone, they taste of ash.

14 min

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SbitenHot honey and spice drink

Long before tea reached Russia, street sellers wrapped in shawls carried copper urns of sbiten through winter markets, pouring steaming glasses of spiced honey water for traders and coachmen. It comes back every Maslenitsa at fairs in Moscow and Suzdal, drunk beside blini. The taste is warming and sweet, with the bite of ginger, a bitter edge of bay and clove, and a resinous note from St John's wort or mint. Where most people go wrong is boiling the honey hard, which dulls its perfume; simmer the spices first and dissolve the honey off the boil. Honey should not be given to babies under one year old. Chef's tip: make the spiced base ahead and keep it in the fridge, then reheat a glass at a time and finish with a squeeze of lemon.

25 min

Russian Drinks

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Kissel

Kissel is the drink of Russian childhoods: a glass of silky, ruby-red berry juice, just thick enough to coat the tongue, poured warm at kindergarten lunch or cold in summer from a jug on the dacha veranda. It is also the old Maslenitsa and wake-table drink, and frozen berries make it possible all year. The flavour is sweet-sharp and fresh, the texture smooth and slightly jelly-like. A common mistake is adding the starch mixture to boiling liquid and letting it bubble for minutes; bring it just back to a simmer, then take it off, or it thins out again and can turn gluey. More starch makes a spoonable dessert kissel. Chef's tip: lay cling film or sprinkle a little sugar on the surface as it cools to stop a skin forming.

20 min

Russian Drinks

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Mors

Northern Russia picks cranberries and lingonberries from the bogs in autumn, and many of them end up as mors, a tart, crimson drink served from a jug at family dinners and offered in cafes and canteens from Arkhangelsk to Siberia. Unlike kissel it is thin and refreshing, made by pressing out the raw berry juice, cooking the skins in water and then combining the two so the fresh vitamin-rich juice is never boiled. Honey goes in last, once the liquid has cooled a little, to keep its flavour. Where most people go wrong is boiling the pressed juice along with the pulp; keep it aside until the end. Honey is not for babies under one year old. Chef's tip: serve it cold with ice in summer or warmed gently in winter; it is good both ways.

20 min

Russian Drinks

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KossamFresh or soured Fulani milk

Fulani herders of the Adamawa plateau measure hospitality in kossam: a calabash of cool milk offered to a guest after a long ride, or sold in Ngaoundéré's markets fresh in the morning and pleasantly soured by afternoon. Fresh kossam is simply creamy whole milk, sometimes sweetened, drunk cold with couscous or on its own as a light meal in the heat of the day. For the tangy soured style, stir two spoonfuls of live plain yoghurt into the milk, leave it somewhere warm for 8–12 hours until thickened, then chill. Traditionally it is made with raw milk; at home, always use pasteurised. Chef's tip: chill the milk for several hours and whisk the sugar in hard just before serving, which gives the light froth you see on calabash-served kossam.

5 min

Cameroonian Drinks

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SufSunflower seed milk

During the long Orthodox fasts, when milk is off the menu for weeks, Ethiopian households turn sunflower seeds into suf: the seeds are pounded or blended with water and strained through a cloth into a pale, creamy drink with a gentle nutty taste. It is served cool in glasses, sometimes lightly sweetened, and the same liquid is poured over torn injera to make the fasting dish suf fitfit. It is light, filling and costs very little. Chef's tip: squeeze the pulp hard in the cloth at the end; the last, thickest drops carry most of the flavour.

30 min

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BirzFresh honey water

In Gojjam and Gondar, where honey is plentiful, birz is poured for children, for guests who do not drink, and at church feasts and weddings beside the tej. It starts the same way as honey wine, with honey stirred into water, but it is drunk fresh within hours, so it stays sweet, mild and completely alcohol-free. Good, flowery honey is everything here; it should taste like a cool, floral lemonade without the lemon. Because birz is honey and water, it will start to ferment by itself if left warm, so drink it the same day and keep it in the fridge until you pour it. Honey is not suitable for babies under 12 months. Chef's tip: dissolve the honey in a little warm water first; stirred straight into cold water, it sinks to the bottom in a sticky lump.

10 min

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AkpanFermented corn drink

Street sellers in Cotonou and Porto-Novo keep akpan in cool boxes, ladled into cups or tied plastic bags as a mid-afternoon pick-me-up. The base is fermented maize starch cooked into a thick pap, then left to sour further until it tastes like a mild, slightly yeasty yoghurt; cold milk and sugar loosen it into a creamy drink you can sip or eat with a spoon. It is refreshing, tangy and filling, and many people treat it as a light meal on hot days. Budget a day for the second souring, though the hands-on time is under half an hour, and always use pasteurised milk and keep the finished drink in the fridge. Don't let the fermented base sit at room temperature for longer than stated; past that it sours too far. Chef's tip: sieve the slurry before cooking; any maize husk left in makes the drink gritty.

30 minAfrican Drinks

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Zoom-koomGinger tamarind millet drink

Zoom-koom means flour water in Mooré, and in Ouagadougou it is the drink that breaks the fast at iftar during Ramadan and cools people down in the scorching weeks before the rains. Millet gives it body and a soft cereal sweetness, while fresh ginger brings heat and tamarind a sour edge; some sellers add lime or mint. It is cloudy, thick and refreshing, served very cold in small bags or glasses. Raw flour is not safe to drink as it is, so this version toasts the millet first, which also deepens its flavour. Chill for at least an hour before serving. Chef's tip: stir the jug every time you pour, as the millet settles quickly to the bottom.

26 minAfrican Drinks

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Telba (roasted flaxseed drink)

Flax grows across the highlands of Gojjam, and on Wednesdays, Fridays and through Lent its toasted seeds become telba, a creamy, nutty drink that fills you up when animal food is off the menu. The seeds are dry-roasted until they pop, ground fine, then whisked with water and strained, giving a pale brown drink with a faint toasted-sesame flavour and a slightly silky body. It is also taken as a gentle remedy for an upset stomach. Families often sweeten it with honey; sugar keeps it fully vegan. Don't roast the flaxseed too far: over-roasted seeds turn the drink bitter. Chef's tip: grind only what you need that day, because ground flax goes stale and bitter within days; whole roasted seeds keep for weeks in a jar.

18 min

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Spris (layered fruit juice)

Juice houses all over Addis Ababa, with their towers of fruit stacked in the window, are famous for spris: a tall glass of thick purées poured in stripes, usually green avocado, golden mango and orange papaya, with a wedge of lime on the rim. It is closer to a spoonable smoothie than a juice, and people often eat the layers one by one before stirring the rest together. It makes a filling breakfast or an afternoon pick-me-up, and children love the colours. Chef's tip: blend each fruit separately and keep every purée thick enough to hold a spoon; runny purées bleed into each other and the stripes vanish.

15 min

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Tabaldi (Sudanese baobab drink)

The great baobab trees of Kordofan and Darfur drop hard pods full of chalky, cream-coloured pulp, and Sudanese cooks soak it in water to make tabaldi, a thick, milky-looking drink with a sherbet-like tang. It is sold from big cool-boxes in Khartoum markets in summer, served at weddings, and appears on the iftar table during Ramadan. Fresh pulp pieces with seeds are sold in African and Middle Eastern shops; baobab powder is a good substitute and needs no straining. Leave the drink to soak for an hour in the fridge before straining (soaking time is not counted in the total). The usual mistake is blending the seeds, which makes the drink bitter; rub the pulp off by hand instead. Chef's tip: a few drops of rose water or a pinch of ground cardamom makes it feel festive.

20 min

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Guddaim (Sudanese grewia berry drink)

Small, round guddaim berries, the fruit of a wild grewia shrub that grows across Kordofan and Darfur, are dried and sold by the cupful in Sudanese markets. Soaked in water and rubbed off their stones, they give a cloudy reddish-brown drink that tastes a little like dates and sour cherries, with a pleasantly sharp finish. It is drunk ice-cold in the heat of the day, at iftar and to welcome guests. Look for dried guddaim in Sudanese or East African shops. If you cannot find it, a mix of 150 g pitted dates and 50 g tamarind pulp soaked the same way gives a similar sweet-sour drink, though not the same. Rubbing too hard and breaking the stones is the usual mistake, as it clouds the drink with grit; rub gently. Chef's tip: soak the berries in cool water overnight in the fridge for the fullest flavour.

20 min

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Aradeib (Sudanese tamarind drink)

Tamarind trees shade villages throughout Darfur and Kordofan, and their sticky brown pods become aradeib, one of the best-loved Sudanese cold drinks. The pulp is soaked, rubbed and strained, then sweetened to make a deep amber, puckeringly sour drink that cuts through rich food and is much loved at iftar through Ramadan. It is also drunk as a home remedy for upset stomachs and heat. Seedy block tamarind from any Asian or African shop works perfectly. Pouring boiling water straight onto the pulp and leaving it too long draws out a harsh, tannic edge, so use hot rather than boiling water and strain after an hour. Avoid squeezing the soaked tamarind through a cloth too hard; fibres get through and make the drink cloudy and gritty. Chef's tip: make a concentrate and keep it in the fridge for up to a week; dilute with cold water by the glass.

20 min

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Madeeda (Sudanese warm millet and milk drink)

Thick enough to sip slowly from a glass but thinner than porridge, madeeda is a warming drink from northern Sudan made by cooking flour, often pearl millet, in milk and sweetening it with sugar or dates. Families make it on cool winter mornings, for anyone feeling under the weather and for new mothers, and it is a gentle way to break the fast in Ramadan. This version uses millet flour with cardamom and a little cinnamon, so it is smooth, nutty and lightly spiced. Lumps are the usual problem: whisk the flour into cold milk before it goes onto the heat. A frequent slip is not stirring enough, so the millet catches and the milk scorches. Chef's tip: for a date version, blitz 6 soft pitted dates with the milk and halve the sugar.

20 min

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Hilu-mur (Sudanese spiced sorghum Ramadan drink)

Weeks before Ramadan, households across Sudan fill with the smell of hilu-mur, literally 'sweet-bitter', as sorghum is sprouted, dried, ground and mixed with flour, dates and a heady spice blend, left to sour for a day, then spread paper-thin on a hot griddle into brittle reddish-brown flakes. Each evening during the month a handful is soaked in water, strained and sweetened, giving the dark, tangy, clove-and-ginger-scented drink that breaks the fast. The souring is short, like a sourdough, and the flakes are cooked dry; the drink is non-alcoholic and served to the whole family. The full process takes about 5 days: 3 days to sprout, 1 to dry and a night to sour, so only active and cooking time are in the totals. Many people buy ready-made flakes from Sudanese shops. Discard any grain that smells musty or shows mould while sprouting. The usual mistake is pouring the batter too thick on the griddle; the flakes should be paper-thin to dry crisp. Chef's tip: spread the batter as thinly as you can; thick flakes stay chewy and go mouldy in storage.

210 min

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Abreh (Sudanese white sorghum flake drink)

Where hilu-mur is dark and spiced, abreh abyad, white abreh, is its pale, gentle partner: a batter of white sorghum flour is left to sour lightly, then baked into thin cream-coloured flakes that are soaked in cold, sweetened water and served at iftar across northern Sudan. The drink is cloudy, refreshing and faintly tangy, a good way to rehydrate after a long day of fasting; some families add a splash of lime or a little cardamom. The overnight souring takes 12–18 hours and is not counted in the totals; it is non-alcoholic, and the flakes are dried hard on the griddle. Spreading the batter too thickly is the classic mistake, so work fast and thin. Chef's tip: make a big batch in one session; the dry flakes keep for months in a tin, so a jug of abreh is only an hour away.

110 min

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Tarragon lemonade

Tarkhuna is the emerald-green soda that every Tbilisi child knows, sold from street fountains since the early 1900s and still poured in tall glasses at cafés on Rustaveli Avenue. The bottled kind is coloured; the home version gets its green from blitzing fresh tarragon with lemon and syrup, giving an aniseedy, sweet-sour fizz. A common mistake is boiling the tarragon, which dulls the colour and turns the flavour stewed. Chef's tip: blitz the herb into cool syrup and strain it straight away; the drink stays vivid green for a day in the fridge.

20 min

Georgian Drinks

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Tumuro teaWild thyme tea

Tumuro is the small-leaved wild thyme that grows on the rocky slopes above Hunza and Gilgit, and in late summer families pick and dry bundles of it to brew through the year. The tea is pale gold and intensely aromatic, more resinous and floral than garden thyme, and it is drunk after heavy meals, by anyone with a cold and simply as a warming cup on a mountain evening; cafés in Karimabad serve it to visitors. Boiling it hard for a long time is the misstep that turns it bitter and medicinal. Chef's tip: if you cannot find tumuro, which is sometimes sold in Pakistani grocers and online as Hunza thyme, use dried garden thyme with a few fresh sprigs, steep it gently, and sweeten with a little sugar only if you like.

10 min

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Seven-layer tea

Visitors to the tea gardens of Srimangal, in Sylhet's Moulvibazar district, queue at small tea cabins to see a glass of tea striped in seven distinct bands, from creamy white at the bottom to pale green-gold at the top. The original recipe is a closely guarded secret of the tea-maker who made it famous, but the principle is simple physics: each layer carries a different amount of sugar, so the heaviest sits at the bottom and the lightest floats on top. This home version uses condensed milk, green tea, strong black tea, milk tea, lemon tea, spiced tea and plain tea, and it is drunk slowly, layer by layer, with a long spoon. Pouring too fast is what ruins it; each layer should trickle down the inside of the glass over the back of a spoon. Chef's tip: let all the brews cool to warm, about 50 °C, so temperature differences don't stir the layers.

35 min

Bangladeshi Drinks

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Doodh sodaMilk with lemon-lime soda

It sounds odd until you are standing in a crowd at a Lahore milk shop on a 45 °C June night, when a tall glass of doodh soda, foamy and sweet with a sharp citrus fizz, is the most refreshing thing in the city. The doodh-walas of Gawalmandi and Mozang chill milk in steel drums over ice, then pour it from a height into a glass with lemon-lime soda so that it froths like a milkshake, and people drink it straight after dinner or after a late plate of fried fish or chana. It tastes like a lighter, bubbly lassi, and children love it. What usually goes wrong is warm milk or flat soda, which makes it taste curdled rather than crisp. Chef's tip: chill both the milk and the soda until very cold, pour the milk first and add the soda in one go, then serve at once while the foam is high.

5 min

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Kachi lassiMilk and water lassi

Harvest time in the Punjab is thirsty work: when the wheat is being cut in the April heat, a steel jug of kachi lassi is carried out to the workers: fresh milk thinned with cold water, stirred with sugar and poured over chunks of ice. Unlike yogurt lassi there is no tang, just a light, clean, milky sweetness that quenches thirst better than plain water, and in many villages it is the drink offered to any guest who arrives on a hot afternoon. Some people add a pinch of salt instead of sugar, or a few drops of rose water. The traditional kind uses raw milk straight from the buffalo; use pasteurised milk instead to be safe. The usual mistake is making it with too little water, which turns it heavy instead of refreshing. Chef's tip: whisk it hard or shake it in a jar so it turns frothy, which makes it feel even cooler.

5 min

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Falsa sherbetFalsa berry drink

For a few short weeks in May and June, Punjabi fruit sellers from Multan to Lahore pile their carts with falsa, tiny purple-black berries with a big seed and a sweet-sour, grape-like flavour, and roadside stalls crush them in big jugs of iced water with sugar and a pinch of black salt. The sherbet is a striking magenta, tart and salty-sweet, and people swear by it as a cooler against the loo, the scorching summer wind; it is also a favourite at iftar when Ramadan falls in summer. Outside Pakistan look for frozen falsa in South Asian grocers, or use blackcurrants, which give a similar colour and sharpness. A common slip is blending the berries hard, which cracks the seeds and turns the drink bitter. Chef's tip: just rub the berries with the sugar and a little water by hand or pulse very briefly, then strain, so you get all the juice and colour and none of the bitterness.

15 min

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Imli aloo bukhara sharbatTamarind and plum cooler

Pakistani grandmothers prescribe this deep brown drink for heatstroke, an upset stomach and the sluggish days of Ramadan fasting in June, and it is sold in tall glasses at sehri and iftar stalls in Karachi, Hyderabad and Lahore. Tamarind and dried aloo bukhara plums are soaked, simmered, mashed and strained into a concentrate, which is then sweetened, seasoned with black salt and roasted cumin and served poured over ice. The flavour is fruity, tart and slightly smoky from the plums, with the savoury lift of the salt. The concentrate keeps for a week in the fridge, so a big batch lasts through a heatwave. The usual problem is skipping the straining step and serving it thick with fibres and seeds, which makes it more like a chutney than a drink. Chef's tip: let the plums soak in the hot liquid for an hour after simmering, so they give up all their sourness and colour before you strain them.

30 min

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Khajoor shakeDate and almond milkshake

Dates are the first thing on the table when the azan sounds for iftar in Pakistan, and in many homes in Karachi and Islamabad the dates go straight into the blender with cold milk and a handful of soaked almonds, making a thick, caramel-sweet shake that restores energy quickly after a long summer fast. Soft, moist dates such as the Aseel from Khairpur in Sindh give the smoothest result, and the drink needs no added sugar at all. It is also a popular breakfast for children and a quick snack after school. The typical mistake is blending dry, hard dates straight from the packet, which leaves chewy fragments and a gritty shake. Chef's tip: soak the stoned dates and almonds in a little warm milk for 10 minutes first, and blend them to a smooth paste before adding the rest of the cold milk.

10 min

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SardaiAlmond and fennel milk drink

Old Lahoris remember the sardai-wala in the lanes of the Walled City, sitting cross-legged with a huge stone mortar and a wooden pestle, grinding soaked almonds, melon seeds, fennel, poppy seeds and black pepper into a pale paste and whisking it into chilled sweet milk. It is creamy, nutty and floral, with the gentle aniseed cool of fennel and a little warmth from pepper, and it was drunk through the hot months as protection against heat. Today it is easier to make with a blender, but the principle is the same: soak, grind fine, strain, chill. Many people forget to soak the seeds long enough, and the drink ends up gritty with a chalky aftertaste. Chef's tip: soak everything for at least 2 hours, or overnight, and strain through a muslin cloth, squeezing hard, so the sardai is silky and full of flavour.

30 min

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Kandahari pomegranate juice

Kandahar's pomegranates, heavy fruits with dark ruby seeds and soft pips, are the pride of southern Afghanistan, and in October and November juice stalls in the city's bazaars press them to order in big iron hand presses. The juice is deep red, sweet with a clean sour finish and a faint tannic grip, drunk on its own in a tall glass, often with a pinch of salt. At home you can get almost the same thing with a citrus press or a blender. The bitterness that ruins many homemade glasses comes from crushing the white pith and hard pips, so blend the seeds only for a few seconds, or press the halves gently. Chef's tip: roll each whole pomegranate firmly on the worktop before cutting it, which bursts many of the seeds inside and makes juicing faster.

10 min

Afghan Drinks

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ŽinčicaSoured whey drink

Hikers walking past a salaš, a Slovak shepherds' hut, are often offered a mug of žinčica, the cool, sour whey left over from making bryndza and hrudka cheese. Shepherds heat the whey until fine flakes of cheese float up, then leave it to sour, and drink it with boiled potatoes or on its own on a hot afternoon. It is thin, refreshing and tangy, a little like a light buttermilk. At the salaš it is often made from raw sheep's milk, so at home make it only from the whey of cheese made with pasteurised milk (the korbáčiky recipe gives you plenty) and vegetarian rennet. The common slip is leaving it to sour somewhere warm for too long, where it turns cheesy and harsh; a cool room and 12 hours is enough. Chef's tip: a spoonful of cultured buttermilk gives a clean, reliable sourness every time.

15 min

Czech Drinks

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MathaSalted buttermilk

Thinner than lassi and salty rather than sweet, matha is what Old Dhaka drinks after a plate of kacchi biryani or a heavy afternoon of tehari and rezala. Vendors around Nazimuddin Road and Bangshal carry it in tall clay pots, churned so long that tiny flecks of butter float on top, and pour it into glasses with a pinch of roasted cumin and black salt. It tastes tangy, cool and faintly smoky, and it cuts through rich, oily food like nothing else. People often make it with thick Greek-style yoghurt and no extra water, which gives a heavy drink that sits in the stomach; matha should be pourable and light. Chef's tip: churn with plenty of ice in the jug so the butter firms into flecks you can skim off or leave floating, as the street sellers do.

10 min

Bangladeshi Drinks

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Beet kvass

Before lemons and vinegar were easy to buy, Ukrainian cooks soured their borscht with beet kvass, a ruby-red brine made by leaving sliced raw beetroot in salted water for a few days. It is lightly fermented, so it contains no more than a negligible trace of alcohol, and it tastes earthy, salty and pleasantly sharp. In Poltava and Chernihiv villages a jar always stood by the stove; a splash went into the soup pot and a small glass was drunk in the morning as a tonic. Some families add a crust of rye bread to speed things up, which makes it no longer gluten-free. The mistake most people make is leaving the beetroot floating: anything above the brine can grow mould, so keep it weighed down. Discard any batch with fuzzy or coloured mould, a slimy texture or a rotten smell. Chef's tip: a few slices left in the jar from the previous batch start the next one in half the time.

30 min

Ukrainian Drinks

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SobiaRice and coconut milk drink

Before the sunset call to prayer in Ramadan, juice shops in Cairo's old quarters fill plastic bags and jugs with sobia for families to carry home, and it is one of the classic drinks for breaking the fast. It is milky white, sweet and smooth, with a gentle coconut flavour and a light body from the rice that makes it filling after a long day without food. This version simmers the rice-coconut milk briefly so it is safe to keep for a day or two in the fridge. Allow an hour for soaking the rice. The common mistake is not straining well, which leaves the drink gritty; push it through muslin. Chef's tip: chill it for at least 3 hours, because sobia tastes flat unless it is ice-cold.

25 min

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KoththamalliCoriander and ginger brew

At the first sniffle, many Sri Lankan mothers put a pot of koththamalli on the stove, and in Colombo offices and up in the damp hill towns during the monsoon you will see people sipping it from steel tumblers instead of tea. Coriander seeds are toasted, cracked and boiled with plenty of ginger until the water turns amber, giving a warm, earthy, slightly citrusy drink with a gentle ginger burn. It is traditionally drunk unsweetened with a piece of kithul or palm jaggery held in the other hand and nibbled between sips, though you can dissolve the jaggery in if you prefer. Grinding the seeds to powder is a mistake, because the drink turns muddy and gritty; they should only be cracked. Chef's tip: toast the coriander just until it darkens a shade and smells like orange peel; that is when the oils are at their best.

20 min

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Bedouin sage tea

Visitors to a Bedouin camp in the Sinai mountains are handed small glasses of this tea almost before they sit down, brewed in a blackened kettle over the fire and sweetened generously. Wild maramiya, the local sage, is dropped in at the end, giving the strong black tea a soft, herbal, slightly camphor scent that is soothing after a long walk or a heavy meal. Garden sage works well, and dried sage is fine in a pinch. Boiling the sage is the mistake to avoid, because it turns the tea bitter. Sage is best taken in moderation and avoided in large amounts during pregnancy. Chef's tip: pour from a height into the glasses; the froth that forms is how Bedouin hosts like it served.

10 min

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HalabessaHot spiced chickpeas in broth

Halabessa carts appear on Cairo and Alexandria corners once the winter evenings get cold, with a steaming pot of chickpeas and a stack of cups. The vendor ladles out tender chickpeas with plenty of their cooking broth, then adds salt, cumin, lemon and chilli, and sometimes a spoonful of tomato sauce, so it is half drink, half snack. It warms the hands as much as the stomach. The chickpeas need soaking overnight before cooking. The cardinal mistake is draining the chickpeas: the starchy cooking water is the whole point, so keep every drop. Chef's tip: simmer them very gently with the lid ajar so the broth turns cloudy and silky without the skins breaking.

85 min

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Guinean tamarind juice

Tomi is the name for tamarind in Guinea, and in Conakry its juice is poured from plastic bottles kept on ice at markets, bus stops and family celebrations alongside bissap and ginger juice. The sticky brown pulp is soaked in hot water, kneaded and strained into a drink that is brown-gold, fruity and pleasantly sour, sweetened with sugar and lifted with a little ginger and vanilla. It is especially welcome at sunset during Ramadan. Chef's tip: soak the pulp in hot, not boiling, water and knead it well; boiling the tamarind is a common mistake that pulls out bitterness from the seeds and skins.

30 minAfrican Drinks

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Sugarcane juice

Juice shops all over Cairo and the towns of Upper Egypt crush sugarcane through clattering steel rollers and serve the pale green juice ice-cold for a few pounds a glass, a favourite in the summer heat and after Ramadan fasting. It is sweet, grassy and refreshing, with a faint lemony edge, and it tastes best within minutes of pressing. Without a press, peeled cane chopped small and blended with a little water gives a very close result at home. Chef's tip: peel the cane completely, because the hard green rind makes the juice bitter and dark.

10 min

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Doum drink

Spice and herb sellers in the Aswan souk pile up the hard, glossy brown fruit of the doum palm, and Nubian households soak it into a cold, sweet drink for the hot months and for Ramadan iftar. The dried flesh gives a cloudy amber drink that tastes surprisingly like gingerbread or caramel, with a faint woody bitterness. Buy it crushed or as coarse powder at Egyptian and African grocers; whole fruit is extremely hard to break. Leaving it to steep too long is the mistake to avoid, because it turns bitter. Chef's tip: strain twice, once through a sieve and again through muslin, to remove the gritty fibre.

15 min

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Kunun aya (tiger nut drink)

Street sellers in Jos, Kaduna and Kano keep kunun aya cold in coolers, and on a hot afternoon a glass of the creamy, nutty milk is hard to beat. Tiger nuts, which are small tubers rather than nuts, are soaked until plump, blended with dates, fresh coconut and a little ginger, then strained. Dates do the sweetening, so most people add no sugar at all. Skimping on the soak is the most common mistake; dry tiger nuts give a thin, gritty drink, so soak them for at least 8 hours. Chef's tip: soak them in the fridge and keep everything cold, because the fresh milk sours quickly in the heat.

20 min

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Chapman (Nigerian fruit punch)

Order a chapman in a Lagos club house or at an owambe party and it arrives in a tall glass full of ice, glowing red and crowded with slices of cucumber, orange and lemon. Lemon-lime and orange sodas are mixed with blackcurrant cordial and grenadine for a sweet, fruity, fizzy drink with a fresh edge from the cucumber. The classic recipe adds a few dashes of aromatic bitters, and those bitters contain alcohol; leave them out (or use an alcohol-free bitters) and it is fully alcohol-free and fine for children. Adding the soda too early is the usual mistake, as it goes flat, so mix the syrups and fruit first and top up just before serving. Chef's tip: chill every bottle well beforehand, so less ice melts into the drink.

10 min

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HusliankaFermented Hutsul milk

High in the Hutsul villages around Verkhovyna and Kosiv, milk was boiled, cooled and left to sour in a wooden keg called a berbenytsia, which held the cultures from the last batch and gave the drink its name and its gentle tang. The result is huslianka: thicker than kefir, smooth like loose yogurt, with a fresh, clean sourness that shepherds drank with mamalyha and new potatoes. Today you will find it bottled at Carpathian markets, but it is easy to make in a glass jar at home. For safety, always start from pasteurised milk, use a scrupulously clean jar and move it to the fridge as soon as it sets. The usual slip is adding the starter while the milk is still hot, which kills the cultures, so cool it to body temperature first. Discard any batch that grows fuzzy or pink mould or smells unpleasant. Chef's tip: keep two spoons of each batch to start the next one; the flavour gets rounder with every round.

1440 min

Ukrainian Drinks

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RyazhankaBaked fermented milk drink

Ryazhanka starts with topleny moloko, milk baked slowly until it turns beige and smells of toffee, which was once done overnight in the cooling clay stove after bread day. Cultured with a little sour cream, it sets into a thick, spoonable drink with a mild tang and a soft caramel note that kefir never has. In Poltava and Sumy dairies it is sold in tall glass bottles, and people drink it at breakfast or with a slice of rye bread as a late snack. Use pasteurised milk, a clean jar, and refrigerate it as soon as it has set. Where most people go wrong is fermenting it too hot or too long, which makes it sour and watery with whey; check it after 4 hours. Throw away any batch with mould or an off smell. Chef's tip: let the brown skin form and break it back into the milk two or three times during baking; that skin is where the colour and flavour come from.

480 min

Ukrainian Drinks

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Fura da nono (millet balls in cultured milk)

Fulani women carry fura da nono to markets across the north in calabashes balanced on their heads: balls of spiced, cooked millet dough sold next to nono, cow's milk that has been left to sour. Crumbled into the milk and sweetened, the fura makes a thick, cooling drink that is part breakfast, part refreshment, tangy with ginger and a gentle heat from the spices. Traditional nono is made from raw milk; this home version uses pasteurised yoghurt and milk for safety, and it should be kept in the fridge. Mashing the fura straight into all the milk leaves lumps, so crumble it with a little milk first. Don't crumble the fura balls coarsely; large lumps stay chalky in the drink. Chef's tip: dust the shaped fura in millet flour and it keeps for 3 days in the fridge, ready to mix.

55 min

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Asaana (caramelised corn drink)

Chilled in plastic bottles and sold from cool boxes at lorry parks, schools and roadside stalls, asaana is one of the most loved soft drinks in Ghana. Maize is soaked, ground and left to sour for a day, then boiled and strained, and the pale liquid is coloured and sweetened with sugar caramelised almost to bitterness. The result is tangy, toasty and refreshing, a little like a light malt drink. Boiling after the souring stops the fermentation, so asaana is a non-alcoholic drink. It needs about two days of mostly hands-off waiting. Chef's tip: take the caramel to a deep mahogany colour before adding water; pale caramel is the usual mistake and gives a flat, sugary drink without the classic toasted edge.

85 min

Ghanaian Drinks

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Lamugin (spiced ginger millet drink)

Around Tamale and across Northern Ghana, lamugin is the drink that bites back: millet flour stirred into ginger water spiked with cloves, black pepper and chilli, then sweetened and served very cold. Sellers keep it in sachets or calabashes at markets and roadside stands, and it is handed round at gatherings and during Ramadan evenings. It is cloudy and slightly thick from the millet, with a sweet start and a long peppery warmth. This version is non-alcoholic and cooks the millet briefly so it tastes clean rather than raw. Chef's tip: pass the ginger water through a fine cloth before adding the millet, so the drink stays smooth instead of stringy.

25 min

Ghanaian Drinks

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Kunun zaki (millet and ginger drink)

Chilled kunun zaki is what people reach for in the heat of Kano and Kaduna afternoons, and at Ramadan iftar it is one of the first things poured. Millet is soaked, ground with fresh ginger and cloves, then partly cooked; the uncooked portion stirred back in sweetens the drink naturally and gives it a light, refreshing tang. It is creamy-looking but thin, spicy at the back of the throat and best ice cold. Pouring boiling water over all the slurry is the classic mistake, since it stops the natural sweetening, so always keep a third raw. Chef's tip: start a day ahead (12 hours soaking, 4–6 hours resting) and strain twice through a fine cloth for a silky drink with no grit.

55 min