Skip to content

Quick desserts

Desserts and sweets ready in 30 minutes or less. (201 recipes)

Romeu e Julieta

Two ingredients, no cooking, and a name every Brazilian knows: Romeo is the dark red goiabada, Juliet the mild white queijo Minas frescal, and they are always eaten together. Mineiros serve it after lunch on a saucer, at the end of a feast in a roadside restaurant, or as a mid-afternoon snack with coffee; the sweet, dense guava and the cool, milky, lightly salty cheese balance each other perfectly. Variations melt the guava into a warm sauce over the cheese, or bake both inside a pastry. Queijo Minas frescal is often made with animal rennet, so pick one labelled vegetarian, or use a young vegetarian farmer's cheese or paneer-style fresh cheese. The usual fault is cutting the guava thicker than the cheese, which buries Juliet; keep both slices the same size. Chef's tip: take the cheese out of the fridge 15 minutes ahead so it tastes of fresh milk rather than cold rubber.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Pé de moleque

Lumpy, glossy slabs of peanut set in dark sugar are sold in every rodoviária snack bar and handed round at festa junina, wrapped in cellophane or set in little paper cups. The name, 'street-kid's foot', probably comes from the cobbled look of the top. Piracicaba in São Paulo state is famous for it, and in the Northeast the same name can mean a cassava cake, so expect confusion. This is the crunchy southeastern style: roasted peanuts cooked into rapadura (unrefined cane sugar) until it caramelises and clings. Rapadura or panela is sold in Latin shops; dark muscovado is a fine substitute. People burn it by walking away; once the peanuts go in, the sugar darkens in seconds. Chef's tip: have the oiled tray ready before you start, because the mixture sets almost as soon as it leaves the heat.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Paçoca

Kids across Brazil grow up on paçoca, the pale peanut sweet that melts into sandy crumbs the moment it is bitten, and no festa junina bag of treats is complete without a few. It started in the countryside of São Paulo and Minas as a way to use the peanut harvest, pounded in a wooden pestle with sugar and cassava flour, and today it is mostly pressed into little discs called rolhas. The flavour is pure toasted peanut, salty-sweet, with a texture between shortbread and fudge. Fine cassava flour (farinha de mandioca fina) is sold in Brazilian shops; you can leave it out for a richer, softer paçoca. Under-roasting the peanuts is the usual pitfall: pale peanuts give a raw, beany taste. Chef's tip: grind the mixture only until it just starts to clump; if it turns to butter, it will not hold a crumbly shape.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Maçã do amor

A shiny red apple on a stick is the picture of a Brazilian festa junina stall, lined up in rows beside the quentão and pipoca. The 'love apple' is a small, tart apple dipped in hot sugar syrup that hardens into a thin, crackling, ruby-red shell; you bite through glass and hit crisp fruit. It is a good one to make at home for a June party because the syrup takes 15 minutes and the apples are ready as soon as the shell cools. Choose a plant-based red colouring to keep it vegan. Where it tends to fail: any water or wax on the apple skin stops the syrup sticking, so it slides off in a puddle. Chef's tip: dip the apples in boiling water for 10 seconds and dry them thoroughly to remove the wax before you start.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Helado de lúcuma

Ask anyone in Lima, Cusco or Trujillo for the national ice-cream flavour and they will say lúcuma, the green-skinned Andean fruit with dry, golden-orange flesh that tastes of butterscotch, maple and sweet potato. Every ice-cream parlour, supermarket freezer and street cart sells it, and it's also folded into cakes and milkshakes. This no-churn version needs no machine: frozen lúcuma pulp (or lúcuma powder, both in Latin shops and health-food stores) is whisked into condensed milk, then folded into whipped cream and frozen. It comes out smooth, rich and naturally caramel-coloured. The mistake is over-whipping the cream to stiff peaks, which makes the ice cream grainy and buttery; stop at soft peaks. It needs at least 6 hours in the freezer, so make it the day before. Serve with a slice of chocolate cake or on its own. Chef's tip: a pinch of salt and a few drops of lime sharpen lúcuma's mellow flavour so it doesn't taste flat when frozen.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Anchi

Sold in plastic cups from coolers at Salta's Mercado San Miguel and on village plazas at the end of a hot afternoon, anchi is a thin, sweet pudding of fine maize semolina cooked with water, sugar and plenty of lemon. It sets only softly, so it is half eaten and half drunk, cold and refreshing, often with slices of poached peach or a few rehydrated orejones (dried peaches) on top, and sometimes a dusting of cinnamon. There's no milk or egg in it, which is what keeps it light. Too much semolina is the easy error: anchi should pour slowly from the spoon when cold, not slice like polenta, so stick to the ratio and remember it thickens as it cools. Fine maize semolina is the Salta choice; fine wheat semolina works too. Chef's tip: add the lemon juice off the heat at the end; boiled lemon loses its fresh sharpness.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Quesillo con miel de caña

In the Tafí del Valle hills above San Miguel de Tucumán, quesillo is made by stretching hot curd into long, thin, elastic sheets and folding them into flat rounds; along the road up from the city, stalls sell it beside jars of miel de caña, the dark syrup boiled from the juice of Tucumán's sugarcane. Put the two together and you have the province's simplest dessert: mild, milky, slightly squeaky cheese with a pour of syrup that tastes of molasses and caramel, plus walnuts for crunch. It is eaten after lunch or as a merienda with mate. Drowning the cheese is the usual misstep; the syrup is intense, so pour a ribbon, not a puddle. Real quesillo is hard to find abroad: fresh mozzarella, Oaxaca cheese or another fresh stretched-curd cheese is closest, and light cane syrup or a 2:1 mix of golden syrup and black treacle stands in for miel de caña. Most of these cheeses use animal rennet; choose a vegetarian one if needed. Chef's tip: warm the syrup slightly so it runs into the folds of the cheese.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Chocotorta

Born in 1980s Buenos Aires as an advertising idea and adopted by the whole country, chocotorta is the cake children ask for at every birthday and the easiest dessert in the Argentine repertoire. Chocolate biscuits are dipped briefly in milk (adults often use coffee), layered with a cream of dulce de leche beaten with cream cheese, and left overnight until the biscuits turn soft and cake-like. It is rich, sweet and a little tangy, and slices cleanly straight from the fridge. Any plain crisp chocolate biscuit works; rectangular ones make the neatest layers. The mistake to avoid is soaking the biscuits too long: a one-second dip is plenty, or they collapse into mush before you can lay them down. Chef's tip: assemble it a day ahead in a loaf tin lined with cling film; overnight chilling is what turns it from biscuits and cream into cake.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Postre vigilante

Ask for dessert in an old Buenos Aires bodegón and the waiter will rattle off flan, budín and, inevitably, vigilante: a thick slab of soft, mild cheese laid beside an equal slab of dulce de membrillo or dulce de batata. The name, "policeman", is said to come from the beat officers who ordered it as a cheap sweet in early twentieth-century cafés; Uruguayans call the same plate Martín Fierro. It is salty against sweet, creamy against firm, and takes five minutes. The traditional cheese is fresh queso cremoso or cuartirolo, or a firmer port salut; a young Havarti or mild Gouda is the best stand-in abroad. Like many soft cheeses, these are often made with animal rennet, so check the label for a vegetarian (microbial-rennet) cheese. The usual error is cutting the slabs thin like a cheese board; vigilante is about generous, equal bricks. Chef's tip: take the cheese out of the fridge 20 minutes ahead; cold cheese tastes of nothing next to the paste.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Cuajada con melao

Simplicity is the charm of this Andean dessert: a slab of fresh, milky cuajada, barely salted, with a dark syrup of panela poured over it, still warm. Highland fondas between Bogotá and Boyacá serve it after a lunch of ajiaco or sancocho, and the contrast of cool, squeaky curd with molasses-deep, spiced syrup is the point. Cuajada is set with rennet, traditionally animal; buy a vegetarian curd or fresh ricotta-style cheese, or make cuajada at home with microbial rennet. Panela is unrefined cane sugar; dark muscovado is the closest swap. The mistake is boiling the syrup too long: it turns to toffee as soon as it meets the cold cheese. Take it off when it coats a spoon thinly. Chef's tip: a strip of lime zest in the syrup cuts the sweetness beautifully.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Postre de guanábana

Soursop has a perfume all its own, somewhere between pineapple, banana and citrus, with a creamy white flesh, and Colombians turn it into this no-bake fridge dessert for birthdays, Sunday lunches and Christmas tables. Soursop pulp is blended with condensed milk and lime, then folded through whipped cream and chilled until it sets into a light, mousse-like cream that is sweet, tangy and fragrant. It is served in glasses or one big dish, sometimes with crumbled biscuits on top; leave them out to keep it gluten free. Frozen soursop pulp is sold in Latin American shops and is easier than fresh fruit. If you start from a whole fruit, the error people make is blending the seeds, which are inedible and add bitterness; pick every one out by hand. Plan for at least 4 hours of chilling. Chef's tip: keep back a few spoonfuls of pulp and swirl them over the top just before serving for a sharper finish.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Esponjado de curuba

Grandmothers' kitchens and old cafés of Bogotá and Boyacá have kept the esponjado alive: a pale, airy, sweet-sour mousse made with curuba, the long, soft-skinned banana passionfruit of the cold Andes, set with gelatin and sweetened with condensed milk. It is served chilled in glasses after Sunday lunch, light and tangy, perfumed like passionfruit but softer. Because it contains gelatin, it is not vegetarian; for a vegetarian version, set it with 2 tsp agar powder boiled for 2 minutes in the curuba juice. Older recipes fold in raw whipped egg whites; this one uses whipped cream instead, so there is no raw egg. The common problem is folding cream into gelatin that's too warm or too set: it should be cool and just thickening, like unbeaten egg white. Chef's tip: frozen curuba pulp is sold in Latin shops; if you can't find it, use passionfruit pulp with a squeeze of lime. Allow at least 4 hours for it to set.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Mouhalabieh

Mouhalabieh is the pudding a Lebanese grandmother makes when guests drop by unannounced: milk set softly with cornflour and a little rice flour, perfumed with orange-blossom water and topped with chopped pistachios. It appears after Ramadan iftar meals, at Christmas in Beirut and on ordinary weeknights in Damascus, always cold and wobbling in small glasses or a shallow dish. No gelatine is used; the starch alone gives a spoonable, silky set. Chef's tip: mix the cornflour into cold milk before it meets the heat; added to hot milk it forms lumps that no amount of whisking removes.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Tire d'érable

Tire d'érable (maple taffy, or 'tire sur la neige') is the highlight of a spring visit to a Québec or eastern Ontario sugar shack: hot boiled maple syrup is poured in ribbons over clean packed snow, where it firms into a chewy, amber toffee that you roll up onto a wooden stick. It's sold at winter carnivals in Québec City and made at home on a tray of snow or crushed ice. Chef's tip: use a sugar thermometer and stop at 112–114 °C; a few degrees under and it stays runny, a few over and it turns hard as candy.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Haupia

Haupia is the dessert of every Hawaiian lūʻau and family party: coconut milk thickened and set into smooth, wobbly-firm squares that you can pick up with your fingers. It was once set with arrowroot from the pia plant; today cornflour does the job. It tastes clean, cool and gently sweet, and is also layered on chocolate pies and spread on cakes in Honolulu bakeries. Chef's tip: keep whisking until it's as thick as mayonnaise and big bubbles plop slowly; underdone haupia won't set firm enough to slice.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Hokey pokey ice cream

Hokey pokey is what New Zealanders call honeycomb toffee, and vanilla ice cream full of crunchy little nuggets of it has been the country's best-loved flavour since the mid-twentieth century; it's scooped into cones at dairies and beaches from Auckland to Invercargill. The honeycomb is a bubbling golden syrup toffee that foams up when bicarbonate of soda goes in and sets glassy and light. Folded through a rich no-churn vanilla base, it stays crunchy at first and slowly turns chewy and toffee-like. Chef's tip: don't stir the sugar once it starts to melt; swirl the pan instead, or it will crystallise and turn grainy.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Tembleque

Tembleque gets its name from the way it shivers (tiembla) when you set it on the table, and in Puerto Rico it is the dessert of the Christmas season, from the parrandas of December through to the Three Kings in January. It's nothing more than coconut milk, sugar and cornflour cooked into a silky custard, poured into a mould and chilled until it holds its shape. It is cool, pure white, lightly sweet and tastes completely of coconut, with a blush of cinnamon on top. Chef's tip: use full-fat tinned coconut milk; light coconut milk sets thin and tastes watery.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Pisang rai

Pisang rai is a Balinese market sweet, wrapped in banana leaf and sold alongside klepon and lak-lak in the early morning. Small ripe bananas are coated in a thick rice-flour batter and dropped into boiling water rather than oil, so they come out soft, chewy and pale, ready to be rolled in salted grated coconut and drizzled with palm-sugar syrup. Some cooks colour the batter green with pandan. Chef's tip: the bananas are done when they float and the batter turns translucent at the edges; another minute firms the coating without making it gluey.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Pisang epe

Along Losari Beach in Makassar, South Sulawesi, evening stalls grill firm bananas over coals, press them flat between two boards, grill them again and drown them in palm-sugar syrup. Epe means pressed. The bananas turn smoky and dense, almost like baked plantain, and the syrup is often flavoured with pandan, durian or chocolate; this is the pandan version. Chef's tip: use bananas that are just ripe and still firm, or plantains just turning yellow; soft bananas fall apart when you press them.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Kluay tod (Thai fried bananas)

In the afternoons, Bangkok's street-corner woks switch from noodles to snacks, and kluay tod is the one you smell from down the soi: wedges of small, firm bananas in a coconut and sesame batter, fried until bronze and sold in paper bags. The batter is made with rice flour and a little lime water, so it shatters rather than turning bready, while the banana inside goes soft and jammy. Thais use kluay nam wa, a short, tart banana; firm, just-ripe ordinary bananas work too. Eat them warm, on their own or with a scoop of coconut ice cream. Chef's tip: overripe bananas fall apart and soak up oil; choose ones that are yellow with no brown spots.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Zhent

Zhent is one of the oldest Kazakh sweets: toasted millet (tary) pounded with dried kurt, dates or raisins, and bound with butter and honey into a crumbly, rich square. Herders made it to carry on long rides, and today it appears on the dastarkhan at Nauryz and weddings in southern Kazakhstan, beside baursak and dried fruit. It tastes nutty, salty-sour from the kurt and sweet, a bit like shortbread with a sharp edge. Chef's tip: toast the millet in a dry pan until it pops and smells like popcorn; under-toasted millet tastes raw and grassy.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Turon

Turon is the afternoon snack sold by vendors on every Filipino street corner, school gate and jeepney stop around three o'clock, often next to banana cue on bamboo skewers. A slice of saba banana and a strip of ripe jackfruit are rolled in a thin spring roll wrapper with brown sugar, then fried in oil that has more brown sugar sprinkled in it, so each roll comes out wrapped in a crackly, glassy caramel shell. It is eaten hot with your fingers, when the banana inside has turned soft and sticky. Saba is a short, firm cooking banana; ripe plantain is the closest substitute. Chef's tip: roll them tightly with no air pockets, or the caramel blows holes in the wrapper.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Halo-halo

Halo-halo ('mix-mix') is what the Philippines eats through the hot dry months of March to May, bought from roadside stalls and snack shops and eaten slowly with a long spoon in a tall glass. Sweetened beans and chickpeas, banana cooked in brown sugar, jackfruit, nata de coco and sugar-palm fruit go in first, then a mountain of finely shaved ice, a splash of evaporated milk and a crown of ube halaya, a slice of leche flan or a scoop of ube ice cream, with crunchy pinipig (toasted pounded rice) on top. Unlike Malaysian ais kacang, there's no syrup over the ice: the sweetness comes from the layers and the milk. You stir everything together before eating. Chef's tip: chill the glasses and the toppings first so the ice doesn't melt before you have finished building.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Pelamushi

Pelamushi is the spoonable cousin of churchkhela: the same thickened grape must, tatara, poured into bowls instead of over walnuts and left to set into a soft, wobbly pudding. In Kakheti it is made in harvest season with fresh must straight from the press, and in Imereti it is often thickened with cornmeal instead of wheat flour. It is served chilled with chopped walnuts, and it is a favourite Lenten dessert because it needs no egg or dairy. A common mistake is adding the flour straight to hot juice, which makes lumps that never cook out; always mix it with cold juice first. Chef's tip: stop cooking when the pudding plops thickly from the spoon; it firms up a lot as it cools.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Showing 24 of 201 recipes

Show more recipes

Page 6 of 9

More collections