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Quick desserts

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

Kartoshka cake

Soviet cafés and school canteens sold these knobbly brown 'potatoes' for a few kopecks, and they began as a thrifty way to use up sponge and biscuit trimmings at the bakery. Crumbs are bound with butter and sweetened condensed milk, flavoured with cocoa and vanilla, shaped into little potatoes, rolled in cocoa and finished with two dabs of pale butter cream for the sprouts. They are fudgy and dense like a brownie truffle, need no oven, and children love making them. Traditional bakers added a spoonful of rum, an optional extra for adult batches only; this version is alcohol-free with vanilla. The usual slip is coarse crumbs, which make the potatoes crack, so blitz them as fine as sand. Chef's tip: chill the shaped potatoes for at least 20 minutes so they hold their shape and slice cleanly.

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Marquesitas

Evening in Mérida's Plaza Grande means the smell of marquesitas: thin batter pressed in hot hinged irons until crisp, then rolled like a cigar around grated Edam cheese and a sweet filling such as cajeta, chocolate-hazelnut spread or jam. Edam came to the Yucatán through the port trade with the Netherlands and became part of the local cooking, and the salty-sweet combination is the whole point. At home you can cook them in a thin, wide frying pan. Edam is usually made with animal rennet, so check the label or use a vegetarian Gouda-style cheese. Chef's tip: roll while the crêpe is still in the pan and hot; within seconds it hardens and will crack.

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Classic tiramisu

Tiramisù ('pick me up') was created in Treviso, in the Veneto, around the 1960s and 70s; the restaurant Le Beccherie is the best-known claimant. The original is simple: savoiardi biscuits dipped in espresso, layered with a cream of egg yolks, sugar and mascarpone, and dusted with cocoa. No alcohol and no cream in the Treviso version, which is different from this site's Baileys tiramisu. It is best made the morning of, or the day before. Because the eggs are raw, use the freshest you can find, or pasteurised eggs. Chef's tip: beat the yolks and sugar for a full 5 minutes until pale and thick as custard; that is what makes the cream light without whipped cream.

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Nutty dates

A quick, rich sweet of dates melted down in butter, then mixed with milk chocolate, chopped nuts, coconut and rice krispies and pressed into a tray. It's chewy, chocolatey and crisp. Makes about 30 diamonds; keep them in the fridge and serve cold.

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Dalia chikki

For Uttarayan, the January kite festival, every Gujarati kitchen turns out trays of chikki, and dalia (roasted split chana, the yellow dal sold for chutneys) is the one that gets forgotten until someone tastes it. It is lighter and crunchier than peanut chikki, with a toasty, slightly savoury edge from the dal. It is all about the jaggery syrup. The common mistake is pulling the jaggery off too early; underdone syrup gives sticky, chewy chikki that never snaps. Chef's tip: drop a little syrup into cold water: when it sets hard and cracks cleanly (hard-crack stage), tip in the dalia straight away.

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Melkkos

Ask a Karoo grandmother what supper was on a cold winter night on the farm and melkkos often comes up: a pot of hot milk thickened with little crumbs of flour and butter, ladled into bowls and dusted heavily with cinnamon sugar. It was the cheap, filling meal made when the cow was milking well, eaten as a pudding or as the whole evening meal with a slice of bread. The texture is soft and slightly lumpy, like a loose rice pudding, with tiny tender dumplings scattered through a silky, faintly sweet milk scented with cinnamon stick. Too much heat is the thing to avoid: milk catches quickly on the base of the pot and a scorched taste runs right through it. Chef's tip: rub the butter into the flour until it feels like coarse breadcrumbs with a few pea-sized bits, because those bigger bits become the best little dumplings.

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Gol dhana

In Gujarat, when two families agree on a match, a plate of gol dhana is passed around before anything else, and the engagement itself is often simply called 'gol dhana'. The same mix appears on auspicious days, at a griha pravesh and at the start of a new venture: soft jaggery rubbed together with dhana dal, the split, lightly roasted coriander seeds sold in every Gujarati grocery. It takes five minutes and needs no cooking. The common mistake is using whole coriander seeds, which are hard and bitter; buy dhana dal, or split and toast the seeds yourself. Chef's tip: choose a soft, golden Kolhapuri-style jaggery that crumbles between your fingers, so it coats the seeds instead of staying in lumps.

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Rajgira no sheero

On Ekadashi, Navratri and other fast days, Gujarati homes make this quick sheero from rajgira (amaranth) flour, which is allowed when grains are not. It is roasted in ghee until nutty, then cooked with milk and sugar into a soft, spoonable pudding with cardamom and a few nuts. It is ready in 20 minutes and is often offered to the Mataji before the family eats. The common mistake is adding cold milk to the roasted flour, which seizes into lumps. Chef's tip: heat the milk and sugar together first and pour it in slowly while you whisk.

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Sing pak

Sing pak is the Gujarati fasting-day fudge: peanuts roasted, skinned and ground coarse, then cooked into a one-string sugar syrup with ghee and cardamom and set in a tray. Because it uses no grain, it is made for Ekadashi, Shravan Mondays and Navratri, and children love it any day. It is soft, rich and a little crumbly. The common mistake is cooking the syrup too far; past one string it sets rock-hard and grainy. Chef's tip: pinch a drop of syrup between finger and thumb (carefully, after cooling it on a spoon): one thin thread should form as you pull them apart.

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Aate ka halwa

Across Marwar, this simple halwa is the one cooked for temple prasad, for Satyanarayan katha and for women in the weeks after giving birth, when ghee and jaggery are thought to build strength. Wholewheat flour is roasted slowly in plenty of ghee until it turns a deep nutty brown, then cooked with hot water and sugar or jaggery until soft and glossy. The whole thing takes 30 minutes. The common mistake is rushing the roast on high heat, which leaves the flour raw-tasting inside and scorched outside. Chef's tip: roast on low heat until the colour is like milky tea and the ghee starts to separate and bubble around the flour.

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Parsi ravo

Ravo is the sweet a Parsi family in Surat or Navsari makes on a birthday morning, on Navroz and after the navjote, served warm in small bowls with a crown of ghee-fried almonds and raisins. Semolina is roasted gently in ghee and then cooked in a lot of milk, so it ends up spoonable and creamy, much looser than a North Indian sheera, scented with nutmeg and a little rose water. Many households beat in an egg for richness; this version leaves it out so it stays vegetarian. The mistake is adding the semolina to boiling milk without roasting it first, which makes a gluey, raw-tasting pudding. Chef's tip: take ravo off the heat while it still looks slightly too loose; it thickens a lot as it sits.

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Nilagang saba mash for babies

Saba, the short, square-edged cooking banana piled in every palengke from Quezon City to Davao, is boiled in its skin for nilagang saging, a merienda (afternoon snack) eaten with a cup of coffee. For babies, the same boiled saba is peeled and mashed into a soft, peachy, honey-sweet purée, and it is one of the most common first foods in Filipino homes. Saba is firmer and starchier than an eating banana, which is why it is always cooked. Nothing is added: no salt, sugar or condensed milk under one. It is free of the major allergens. Chef's tip: pick saba whose skins are yellow with black spots; green ones are too starchy and can upset small tummies.

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Bunelos aga

Bunelos aga are the banana fritters of Guam, sold at fiesta food tables and church fundraisers in Hagåtña and made at home whenever the bananas over-ripen. Mashed sweet bananas are mixed into a soft batter, fried in spoonfuls and rolled in sugar, so they're crisp outside and custardy within. A common mistake is frying at too low a temperature, which makes them greasy. Chef's tip: use the small, sweet local bananas or the ripest regular ones you can find.

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Chocolate crackles

No Australian child's birthday party is complete without chocolate crackles, served in paper patty cases alongside fairy bread at backyard parties from Adelaide to Cairns. Puffed rice cereal is bound with melted solid coconut fat, icing sugar, cocoa and desiccated coconut, then set in the fridge. Kids can make them almost entirely on their own. A common mistake is using hot fat, which makes the mixture greasy; let it cool a few minutes. Chef's tip: use solid white hydrogenated coconut fat sold in blocks, not jarred coconut oil, which won't set firm at room temperature.

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Coconut ice

Coconut ice is the pink and white sweet that fills Australian school fete stalls, Christmas hampers and CWA cake tables, a no-cook fudge of desiccated coconut, condensed milk and icing sugar. It is soft, chewy and very sweet, so cut small squares. A common mistake is a mixture that's too wet to hold; add more coconut until it's firm enough to press. Chef's tip: press the white layer first, then the pink, and chill before cutting for sharp stripes.

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Tameletjie

Children in old Cape Town spent their pocket money on tameletjie from the corner shop: amber slabs of hard toffee set in little folded paper cases, studded with pine nuts and sometimes almonds. It is nothing more than sugar and water boiled to the hard-crack stage, so it snaps cleanly and slowly melts on the tongue into a deep caramel with a faint bitterness, the toasted nuts adding a buttery crunch. Make it for a church bazaar, wrap it as a gift, or keep it in a tin for after-dinner coffee. Stirring once the syrup boils is what ruins most batches, because it makes the sugar crystallise into a cloudy, grainy mass. Hot sugar burns badly, so keep children well away from the pan. Chef's tip: brush the inside of the pan with a wet pastry brush as it boils to wash down any sugar crystals clinging to the sides.

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White Christmas

White Christmas is an Australian Christmas tradition from the days when a hot December made baking a misery, a no-bake slice of puffed rice, dried fruit, glacé cherries and coconut set in white chocolate or coconut fat. It is cut into squares and kept in the fridge for drop-in visitors through the holidays. A common mistake is overheating the white chocolate, which seizes; melt it gently. Chef's tip: red and green glacé cherries make it look festive.

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Mofo akondro

Wherever bananas pile up on market tables, from Toamasina on the east coast to the roadside stalls near Moramanga, someone is frying mofo akondro to sell warm in twists of paper. Ripe banana is cut into thick slices, dipped in a soft, vanilla-scented batter of flour, egg and milk, and fried until the coating puffs and crisps while the fruit inside turns jammy and sweet. Children love them after school, and they make an easy dessert with a dusting of sugar. Underripe bananas are the common mistake: they stay starchy and sour, so wait until the skins are well freckled with brown. Chef's tip: let the batter rest for 10 minutes before you dip, so the flour hydrates and the coating clings evenly instead of sliding off in the oil.

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Mela grattugiata (grated apple)

Ask any Italian nonna what a baby has for merenda, the mid-afternoon snack, and she will mime grating an apple: in homes from Turin to Bari, a sweet apple is grated very finely on the small holes of a grater and spooned up at once, before it turns brown. Paediatricians in Italy suggest it from six months, and for the first few times many parents steam the apple briefly so it is softer still. It tastes fresh and naturally sweet; the old habit of crumbling in a biscuit or a spoon of sugar is not for babies under one, and honey never. It is free of the major allergens. Chef's tip: a squeeze of lemon is often added to stop browning, but for babies simply grate it right before serving.

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Kabok

Kabok are crunchy balls of puffed rice and sesame bound with hot jaggery syrup, made in Meitei homes for Yaoshang, Cheiraoba and temple offerings. Black puffed rice is used in some villages, giving dark, toasty kabok. The key is the syrup: cook it to the hard-ball stage, when a drop in cold water sets into a firm ball, or the balls will fall apart. The common mistake is shaping with dry hands; wet them so the hot mixture doesn't stick or burn. Chef's tip: warm the puffed rice in the oven for a few minutes first so it stays crisp.

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Chirimoya alegre

Chileans call it 'happy cherimoya': ripe custard-apple pulp dropped into fresh orange juice and served ice-cold. It turns up as the summer dessert after a big lunch in the Central Valley and in the Aconcagua valley, where much of Chile's cherimoya grows. The fruit should be soft like a ripe avocado; a hard one tastes starchy. The most common mistake is preparing the fruit ahead without juice, so it turns brown and loses its perfume: drop each piece straight into the orange juice. Remove every black seed, as the seeds must not be eaten or crushed. Chef's tip: squeeze the oranges yourself and taste before you sweeten; good juice often needs no sugar at all.

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Dhana ni panjiri

At midnight on Janmashtami, when Gujarati and Rajasthani families sing to baby Krishna, the prasad handed round is this fragrant panjiri of ground coriander seeds roasted in ghee and mixed with powdered sugar, coconut, makhana and dry fruit. Because it contains no grain, it is also eaten by those who keep the Janmashtami fast. It tastes warm, sweet and surprisingly floral. The common mistake is roasting the coriander powder on high heat; it burns in seconds and turns bitter. Chef's tip: grind the seeds yourself just before roasting, and stop when the kitchen smells like warm citrus, not toast.

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Kesar penda

In Ahmedabad, any good news, from exam results to a new home or a newborn, means a box of kesar penda passed around the office and the street. These are soft, creamy pendas of fresh mawa cooked briefly with sugar and plenty of saffron, so they stay pale gold and fudgy, quite unlike the browned pedas of Mathura or Dharwad. The common mistake is overcooking the mawa once the sugar goes in, which turns the pendas dry and cracked at the edges. Chef's tip: stop cooking as soon as a small piece rolls into a smooth ball between your palms; they firm up as they cool.

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Khajur pak

Kutch grows some of India's best dates, and in Bhuj and Anjar homes khajur pak is the sweet made for Diwali boxes and for Ekadashi and other fast days, since it needs nothing but dates, ghee, nuts and coconut. The dates melt in warm ghee into a sticky paste, the nuts give crunch, and the log is rolled in poppy seeds and sliced into neat coins. The common mistake is cooking the dates too long, which dries them out so the log cracks when you slice it. Chef's tip: for a harder winter version, swap a third of the soft dates for chopped kharek (dry dates) soaked overnight in a little milk.

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Steamed Nendran banana mash

Nendran is the long, golden plantain of Kerala, sold in hands at every market from Palakkad to Thiruvananthapuram, and a steamed ripe Nendran is one of the first fruits a Malayali baby tastes. Raw, it is too firm and starchy for a six-month-old, so it is steamed in its skin until the flesh turns soft and orange-gold, the dark string of seeds in the centre is pulled out, and the rest is mashed smooth. It is naturally sweet, so nothing is added: no sugar, jaggery, honey or salt. It is free of the major allergens. Chef's tip: wait until the skin is fully yellow with black freckles; a green Nendran stays chalky however long you steam it.

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Rum balls

Rum balls are the grown-ups' Christmas sweet in Australia, rolled by the trayful in December and handed round at end-of-year parties from Sydney to Perth. They are made from chocolate cake crumbs or crushed biscuits, condensed milk, cocoa and dark rum, rolled in coconut. They contain alcohol and are for adults only; for children or anyone avoiding alcohol, use rum essence and a splash of orange juice instead. A common mistake is a mix that's too wet; chill it before rolling. Chef's tip: make them a day ahead so the flavours mellow.

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Martín Fierro

Ask for dessert in a Montevideo bodegón or a country parador and you may be offered a Martín Fierro: a thick slice of fresh, mild cheese laid with an equal slice of dense quince or sweet-potato paste, named after the gaucho of the epic poem. It's salty against sweet, soft against firm, and takes two minutes to assemble. Uruguayan fresh cheese is usually made with animal rennet, so choose one with vegetarian rennet if that matters to you. The mistake is serving it fridge-cold, which dulls both flavours. Chef's tip: cut the cheese and paste to exactly the same thickness, about 1 cm, so every bite has both.

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Bombai motai (Sri Lankan candyfloss)

On Galle Face Green at sunset, and at every Vesak fair, the bombai motai seller walks with a glass box of pink candyfloss and a little bell, handing it out in small cones. You can spin a home version without a machine: sugar boiled to the hard-crack stage, then flicked from a fork in thin threads over two spoon handles. Children love to watch, but they must stay well back while the sugar is hot. Contains no major allergens. Chef's tip: make it on a dry day; humidity melts the threads back into sticky sugar.

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Lolly cake

Lolly cake is the no-bake treat every New Zealand child helps make for birthday parties and bake sales, a log of crushed malt biscuits bound with butter and condensed milk, studded with chewy, brightly coloured fruit lollies (fruit puffs) and rolled in coconut. Sliced into rounds, it shows off the colours. A common mistake is crushing the biscuits to dust; leave some small chunks for texture. Many fruit lollies contain gelatine, so choose gelatine-free ones to keep it vegetarian. Chef's tip: wrap the log tightly in cling film and twist the ends so it chills into a neat cylinder.

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Frozen Christmas pudding

In the heat of an Australian December, many families swap the steamed pudding for a frozen one, ice cream packed with fruit, nuts and chocolate and set in a pudding basin so it still looks the part on the Christmas table in Brisbane or Perth. It is made days ahead and turned out just before serving. A common mistake is letting the ice cream melt too much while mixing, which makes it icy when refrozen; soften it only until stirrable. Chef's tip: soak the fruit in orange juice the night before so it stays soft when frozen.

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Glaçon râpé

On a hot Sunday at Flic en Flac or Mon Choisy, families queue at the glaçon râpé man, who shaves a block of ice into a cup, then pours over bright red and green syrups and, if you ask, a thick ribbon of sweetened condensed milk. The ice should be fluffy and dry like fresh snow, so the syrup sinks in and streaks the colours together, and the condensed milk turns the bottom of the cup into a sweet, milky slush. A home blender makes a fine version if the ice is very cold; the common mistake is using ice straight from a bag that has half-thawed, which turns to watery slush. Chef's tip: put the cups and the blender jug in the freezer for 20 minutes first, then pulse in short bursts rather than running the motor.

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Cuchuflí

Cuchuflí are the thin, crisp wafer tubes filled with manjar that vendors sell from baskets on Chilean beaches and outside football stadiums, and that children beg for at the Fiestas Patrias fondas. At home you can bake the wafers yourself and roll them round a wooden spoon handle. The usual mistake is waiting too long to roll them: the wafers set within seconds and crack. Bake only three at a time. Chef's tip: fill them with a piping bag just before serving, or the manjar softens the wafer; dip the ends in melted chocolate if you like.

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Ginger milk curd

Born in the Pearl River Delta town of Shawan in Panyu, Guangdong, ginger milk curd crossed the border to become a favourite of Hong Kong dessert parlours in Jordan and Causeway Bay, ordered hot on a winter night. There's no setting agent: an enzyme in fresh ginger juice curdles hot milk within minutes into a trembling, spoonable custard that's sweet, creamy and warming, with a peppery ginger kick. It is eaten straight from the bowl while still warm, with nothing alongside. Long-life UHT milk is the classic mistake, since its proteins have been changed by the high heat and it simply won't set; use fresh pasteurised whole cow's milk. Chef's tip: use mature, fibrous ginger rather than young pink-tipped ginger, and heat the milk to 70–75 °C, measured with a thermometer.

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Mango pudding

Wobbling out of fish-shaped moulds at the end of a Hong Kong dim sum lunch, mango pudding is just as popular in small cups from dessert chains, which sell it through the sticky summer months when Philippine and Thai mangoes flood the markets. It's smooth, creamy and full of fruit, with pieces of fresh mango through it and a drizzle of cold evaporated milk on top. Restaurants usually set it with gelatine; this version uses agar, which keeps it vegetarian and sets slightly firmer and cleaner. The problem with agar is impatience: it begins to set below about 40 °C, so cold purée added too slowly turns into lumpy strands. Chef's tip: warm the mango purée before you mix it in, then whisk briskly and pour into the moulds right away.

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Kyauk kyaw

Trays of kyauk kyaw are cut into diamonds for nearly every Burmese celebration, from birthday donation lunches to the water-splashing days of Thingyan in April, when a cold, firm jelly is exactly what the heat calls for. Agar sets far firmer than gelatine, and that clean, snappy bite is the whole point: a translucent sweet layer on the bottom and an opaque, lightly salted coconut cream layer on top, each tasting of fresh coconut and a hint of pandan. It is served chilled, on its own or alongside shwe yin aye and other festival sweets. If the bottom layer sets completely hard before you pour the top, the two layers slide apart when you cut them. Chef's tip: pour the coconut layer while the clear layer has just formed a skin that holds a fingertip but is still warm.

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Serradura

Portuguese for 'sawdust', serradura is the cool, creamy dessert you'll find in every Macanese restaurant and café from Taipa to the Senado Square backstreets, ordered to round off a long Macanese lunch. Alternating layers of sweetened whipped cream and powder-fine tea biscuit crumbs set softly in the fridge, so each spoonful is light, milky and caramel-sweet, with a gentle crumbly texture. It is usually served in small glasses, sometimes semi-frozen like an ice cream cake. Coarse crumbs are where it goes wrong; they stay crunchy and gritty instead of melting into the cream, so grind the biscuits as fine as sand. Chef's tip: whip the cream and condensed milk together only to firm peaks and stop there, or it turns grainy and buttery.

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Kasar

Kasar is a sweet of good fortune: Bahun and Chhetri families in the hills make it by the basketful to send with a bride to her new home, to hand out at bratabandha thread ceremonies and to fill the Tihar plates. It is the simplest of sweets, puffed rice stirred into bubbling jaggery syrup flavoured with cardamom and pressed into balls while warm, sometimes with sesame, coconut or peanuts added, and it is crunchy, light and caramel-sweet. Children love making it because it is all about quick hands and a bowl of cold water. The pitfall is syrup that is not cooked far enough, which gives soft, sticky balls that collapse in a day. Chef's tip: test the syrup by dropping a little into cold water; when it sets into a firm ball that cracks if you squeeze it, it is ready.

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Black sesame soup

Steaming bowls of inky ji ma wu are a staple of Hong Kong dessert shops on cool evenings, eaten after dinner or as a late-night snack on the way home. The soup is thick enough to coat a spoon, nutty and roasted with a faint bitterness that balances the rock sugar, and so smooth it feels like warm velvet. It's often paired half-and-half in one bowl with almond tea or walnut soup, or served with sweet glutinous rice balls. Over-toasting the sesame is the mistake to avoid; once the seeds scorch, the whole pot tastes acrid. Chef's tip: blend the toasted seeds with water for a full two minutes, until no grit is left between your fingers, before it goes into the pan.

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Chek k'tis

Ask for something sweet at a Phnom Penh dessert cart on a rainy-season afternoon and you may be handed a warm cup of chek k'tis: chunks of small, tart-sweet bananas bobbing in coconut milk with clear, chewy tapioca pearls. The coconut milk is sweetened with palm sugar and seasoned with a good pinch of salt, which makes it taste rich rather than cloying, and a knot of pandan gives it a grassy vanilla scent. It is also cooked at home as an offering-day treat and eaten warm or at room temperature. The usual error is using very ripe, spotty bananas, which melt into grey sludge; firm, just-yellow fruit holds its shape and blushes pink as it cooks. Chef's tip: let the coconut milk only shiver, never boil hard, or it splits and turns oily.

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Peanut ice cream roll

Strolling Jiufen's steep Old Street, or the night markets of Yilan where it was born, you'll find a vendor planing a huge block of peanut candy into fluffy shavings over a thin, soft wrapper, adding two scoops of taro or pineapple ice cream and, to the surprise of every visitor, a pinch of fresh coriander. Rolled up like a burrito, it's cold, crunchy, chewy and sweet all at once, and the herb lifts it with a bright, almost citrus note. The popiah wrapper is the same thin flour skin used for Taiwanese spring rolls. A dried-out wrapper is what usually ruins it: it cracks as you roll, so keep the skins under a damp cloth until the last second. Chef's tip: check that your ice cream is free of gelatine, and try one roll with coriander before deciding you hate it.

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Majarete

Puerto Rican grandmothers cook majarete on the stove in one pan, pour it into a dish and leave it to set while the Sunday dinner is eaten; it shows up again at Christmas beside the tembleque. Rice flour, coconut milk and whole milk are stirred with cinnamon and a little orange zest until they thicken into a silky, spoonable pudding, dusted with more cinnamon. In the Dominican Republic the same name goes to a version made with fresh grated corn. The common mistake is walking away from the pan; rice flour lumps and catches in seconds, so whisk constantly. Chef's tip: whisk the rice flour into the cold milks before the pan goes on the heat, and it will be perfectly smooth.

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Durian pengat

When the durian season peaks in Singapore from June to August, Peranakan families in Katong and Joo Chiat turn leftover or slightly overripe fruit into pengat, a thick, golden custard-like dessert of durian flesh cooked down in coconut milk with gula melaka and pandan. It is rich, creamy and boldly fragrant, with a caramel edge from the palm sugar and a little salt to balance it, and it is eaten warm or chilled in small bowls, or spooned over plain steamed glutinous rice or slices of white bread. The usual mistake is boiling the coconut milk hard, which splits it into oily curds; keep it to a lazy simmer. Chef's tip: mash half the durian and keep half in soft chunks, so you get both a smooth base and creamy pieces to bite into.

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Rømmegrøt

Rømmegrøt is the porridge of Norwegian celebrations: full-fat sour cream simmered and thickened with flour until the butterfat seeps out, then loosened with milk into a rich, silky pudding and served with cinnamon sugar, melted butter and a side of cured meats or flatbread. It is eaten at midsummer, weddings and on St Olav's day, and in the summer farms of the mountains; in Oslo it is bought in tubs for Saturday treats. A common mistake is using low-fat sour cream, which will not release its butter. Chef's tip: skim off the golden fat that rises and drizzle it back over the porridge in the bowl; that is the traditional 'smørøye' (butter eye).

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Benni cake

Benni is the Krio word for sesame, and benni cake is the crunchy sweet sold by hawkers on Freetown's streets and laid out on Christmas and party tables. Toasted seeds are stirred into hot golden caramel, pressed thin and cut into squares that snap cleanly and taste nutty, toasty and not too sweet. With only two main ingredients it comes together in twenty minutes, but caramel waits for nobody, so have everything ready before you start. Keep the pieces in an airtight jar, or humidity will make them sticky. Chef's tip: score the slab while it is still warm and pliable; once fully cold it shatters unevenly.

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Pokhindz

Pokhindz is one of the oldest Armenian New Year foods, made in village kitchens across Shirak and Lori and still found in Yerevan's markets in December: wheat, or wheat flour, toasted slowly until it smells like biscuits, then rubbed with melted butter, honey and crushed walnuts into a sweet, crumbly mix eaten by the spoonful or pressed into balls. A common mistake is toasting over a high heat; the flour scorches at the bottom while the top is still raw. Chef's tip: keep stirring in a wide dry pan over a low heat until the flour is the colour of milky tea; that slow toasting is where the nutty flavour comes from.

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Bathith

Bathith is an old Bedouin travel sweet from the United Arab Emirates, made from things that keep in the desert: flour toasted dark, dates and ghee, kneaded together into crumbly bites. Today it is served in Emirati homes with gahwa in the afternoon or put out at Ramadan, and it tastes of caramel, toasted nuts and warm cardamom, with a texture somewhere between shortbread crumble and fudge. It keeps well for a week in a tin. Under-toasting the flour is the mistake most often made: it must go a deep golden brown, or the bites taste pasty. Chef's tip: use the softest dates you can find and warm them with the ghee; they melt into a paste and bind the flour without extra fat.

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Khabeesa

Khabeesa is made in Emirati and Qatari kitchens for Eid mornings, new babies and Ramadan nights: flour toasted until golden, then cooked with saffron syrup and ghee until it turns into fragrant, crumbly clusters, a bit like a soft, buttery halwa that breaks apart. It is served in a small bowl on the coffee tray, eaten with a spoon or the fingers, and its aroma of saffron, cardamom and rosewater fills the house. The mistake to avoid is pouring in the syrup all at once, which makes lumps that never break up. Chef's tip: keep pressing and turning the mixture against the pan once the ghee goes in; that is what forms the little golden crumbs.

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Sheer pira

When an Afghan family agrees to a marriage proposal, the shirini-khori, literally the eating of sweets, follows, and trays of sheer pira are cut and handed round to mark that the deal is sealed; it also appears at Eid and Nowruz all over the country. It is a soft, dense milk fudge made in minutes from milk powder and syrup, perfumed with cardamom and rosewater and pressed with green pistachios and walnuts, and it melts slowly on the tongue like a creamy, not too sweet barfi. A syrup boiled too long is what turns it dry, crumbly and grainy, so take it off the heat as soon as it forms a single thread. Chef's tip: sift the milk powder and stir it in all at once, fast, while the syrup is still hot, or it sets in lumps before it is smooth.

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Vispipuuro

Vispipuuro, 'whisked porridge', is a Finnish childhood favourite: semolina cooked in lingonberry juice and water with sugar, then cooled and whisked hard until it turns pale pink, light and fluffy like a mousse. It is eaten for breakfast, as a dessert at school, or as a snack, with cold milk poured around it. Cranberries or redcurrants work too. A common mistake is whisking it while still hot, which never lightens it. Chef's tip: cool the porridge in a sink of cold water, then whisk with an electric mixer for 10 minutes; it will double in volume. Serve with oat milk to keep it vegan.

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Tobago benne balls

Benne is the West African word for sesame that survived in Tobago, and benne balls are the little brown, crunchy candies sold in paper bags at Scarborough market and by vendors on the beach roads. Toasted seeds are stirred into molasses and sugar boiled to the hard stage, then rolled while warm into marble-sized balls. The common mistake is under-boiling the syrup, which gives soft, sticky balls that never set; test it in cold water. Work quickly and carefully, as the syrup is very hot. Chef's tip: toast the seeds only to pale gold; they keep darkening in the hot syrup and turn bitter if they start dark.

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Khoshaf

Bowls of khoshaf sit on the iftar table all through Ramadan in Egyptian homes, and many people break their fast with a few dates and a glass of it before anything else. Dried apricots, prunes, figs and raisins soak overnight in lightly sweetened water until they swell, and the liquid turns into a fruity, amber syrup; toasted almonds and pistachios go on top for crunch. It is cool, gentle on an empty stomach and full of natural sugars. Soaking it on the counter in warm weather is the usual mistake, as it can start to ferment, so always soak it in the fridge. Chef's tip: add a teaspoon of orange blossom water just before serving rather than at the start; it fades overnight.

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Gesztenyepüré

No Budapest cukrászda menu in autumn is complete without a glass of gesztenyepüré: sweet chestnut purée pushed through a potato ricer so it falls in loose brown strands, crowned with a cloud of whipped cream and often a glacé cherry. It is soft, nutty and creamy rather than sugary, and it came to Hungary from Viennese kitchens in the days of the empire. Classic café versions add a splash of rum to the chestnuts; this one leaves it out and uses vanilla and a little cocoa, so it is alcohol-free. A common mistake is pressing the purée into the glass with a spoon, which turns it into a dense paste; let the strands fall loosely straight from the ricer. Chef's tip: chill the purée well before ricing, because cold purée holds its strands and the cream stays on top.

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Chokladbollar

Chokladbollar are the first thing Swedish children learn to make: oats, butter, sugar and cocoa mashed together by hand, rolled into balls and coated in desiccated coconut or pearl sugar, then chilled. They sit in every café cabinet in Sweden for fika, and grown-ups add a spoon of strong coffee to the mix. This version uses milk, with coffee as an option for adults. A common mistake is using soft, melted butter, which makes a greasy mix that won't roll. Chef's tip: use butter at cool room temperature and chill the mix for 20 minutes before rolling.

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Tejbegríz

Ask Hungarians what they ate in the nursery or at the school canteen and tejbegríz comes up again and again: semolina cooked slowly in sweet milk until it is thick, smooth and comforting, then dusted with cocoa sugar or cinnamon sugar while it is still steaming. It is a supper for small children, a quick breakfast on a cold morning and the thing grown-ups make when they feel unwell. Some families add a spoon of jam or a knob of butter on top. Where most people go wrong is tipping the semolina in all at once, which makes lumps; rain it in slowly while you whisk. Chef's tip: take it off the heat when it is still slightly looser than you want, because it keeps thickening as it cools in the bowl.

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Kanya

Children in Freetown buy kanya from school-gate sellers and market trays, wrapped in paper, and Sierra Leoneans abroad pack it in suitcases to share. It is a pressed sweet of roasted groundnuts pounded with sugar and toasted rice flour, crumbly yet firm, a little like a rustic peanut fudge. Traditionally everything is pounded in a mortar; a food processor does the job in a minute. Store the bars in an airtight tin for up to a week. Chef's tip: stop blending the moment the crumbs clump when squeezed; a few seconds more and the peanuts release their oil and the mixture turns greasy.

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Kogel-mogel

Ask anyone who grew up in a Warsaw block of flats about kogel-mogel and they will remember standing in the kitchen beating yolks and sugar in a mug with a teaspoon, waiting for it to turn pale. It is the simplest Polish treat: thick, mousse-like and very sweet, sometimes with cocoa, eaten from a glass with a spoon or dolloped on fruit. Because the yolks are raw, use pasteurised eggs, which most supermarkets sell as cartons of yolks or as pasteurised whole eggs. Even so, raw eggs are not for pregnant women, young children or anyone with a weakened immune system. The common mistake is stopping too soon; it needs a good 5 minutes of whisking until it doubles and almost all the sugar has dissolved. Chef's tip: use caster sugar, which disappears faster and gives a silkier result.

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Tamina (roasted semolina with honey)

Word of a birth in an Algiers household brings a steady flow of visitors, and each is offered a small dish of tamina with coffee: semolina roasted in a dry pan until it smells like toasted hazelnuts, then bound with melted butter and honey and dusted with cinnamon. It is soft, crumbly and sweet, a little like a spoonable halva, and is said to give strength to the new mother. Tamina is also made for Mawlid and served with tea, with the cinnamon often sifted over in a lattice pattern. Chef's tip: toast the semolina slowly over a medium-low heat and stir without stopping; burnt dark specks make the whole batch bitter and cannot be picked out.

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Thala guli

Small boutique shops all over Sri Lanka hang strings of thala guli by the till, each ball wrapped in a twist of coloured paper, and children spend their coins on them on the way home from school. They also have a place on the Avurudu table and at almsgivings, as sesame is considered an auspicious, strengthening food. Toasted sesame seeds are pounded with jaggery and a pinch of salt until the oil comes out and the mixture holds together, then rolled into little balls that are rich, nutty, slightly bitter and sweet. No cooking beyond toasting is needed, so they take barely twenty minutes. Under-toasting the seeds is the trap: pale seeds taste raw and will not release enough oil to bind, so roast until they pop and turn evenly golden. Chef's tip: pound while the seeds are still warm, when they give up their oil easily; a food processor in short pulses works too.

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Nigerian coconut candy

Children across Nigeria spend their pocket money on coconut candy, little clusters of fresh coconut set in amber caramel, sold in small bags by school gates and at market stalls. Made at home it takes about half an hour, with a chewy-crunchy bite and a toffee flavour against the clean taste of fresh coconut. Taking the caramel too far is the common mistake, since dark caramel tastes bitter, so stop at a deep golden colour. Children can help shape the cooled candy, but keep them away from the hot sugar. Chef's tip: use freshly grated coconut, not desiccated; its moisture keeps the clusters chewy in the centre.

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Meni-meniyong (Malian sesame honey sticks)

Toasted sesame seeds bound with hot honey and a knob of butter, then pulled into sticks before they harden: meni-meniyong is a little Malian sweet sold at markets and made at home for guests and festive days. The sticks are crisp at the edges, chewy in the middle, and taste deeply of toasted seeds and dark honey. They need only three ingredients but reward careful heat. Children love them, and they keep well in a tin. Chef's tip: cook the honey until a drop in cold water forms a firm ball; pulling it off too early is the usual mistake, and the sticks stay soft and sticky instead of setting.

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Nkate cake

Despite the name, nkate cake is not a cake at all but a brittle: roasted groundnuts bound in golden caramel, rolled thin and cut into squares, then sold wrapped in paper by hawkers in Kumasi lorry stations and at school gates across Ghana. It is crunchy, sweet and nutty, with a hint of bitterness from the caramel, and it keeps well in a tin. Children love it, but hot sugar is dangerous, so keep them away from the pan. Chef's tip: mark and cut the squares while the slab is still warm and pliable; waiting until it is cold is the usual mistake, and it then shatters into shards.

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Mbourake (peanut and date bread crumble)

Yesterday's baguette never goes to waste in a Senegalese kitchen during Ramadan. Mbourake turns it into a rich, crumbly sweet: the bread is dried, rubbed to crumbs and pounded with roasted peanut paste and sugar until it clumps, then mixed with chopped dates and pressed into balls or served loose in a bowl at the ndogu, the evening meal that breaks the fast. Some families use steamed millet instead of bread. It tastes like a cross between peanut cookie dough and a date bar, sweet, nutty and filling, and it is good with a glass of café Touba or milk. Chef's tip: dry the bread fully until it snaps; soft bread gives a gummy paste instead of a light crumble.

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Haft mewa

Haft mewa is the first thing many Afghan families offer visitors on Nowruz, the spring new year on 21 March, and in Mazar-i-Sharif and Kabul it sits in a big glass bowl on every table set for the holiday. Seven kinds of dried fruit and nuts, typically green and red raisins, apricots, walnuts, almonds, pistachios and senjed (dried oleaster berries), are steeped in water for two days until the fruit swells and releases its sugar into a pale amber syrup, while the nuts soften to a fresh, milky crunch. It is ladled into small bowls with plenty of liquid and eaten with a spoon. Skipping the peeling of the almonds is the most common shortcut, and it leaves bitter, papery skins floating in the syrup. Chef's tip: use cooled boiled water for the soak and keep the bowl in the fridge, which keeps the syrup clear and sweet.

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Balkaimak

Balkaimak, 'honey cream', is the dessert Kazakh hosts put out for guests with a mountain of baursak dough puffs: thick cream simmered with honey and a little sugar until it turns into a glossy, caramel-flavoured sauce that sets as it cools. It belongs to celebrations like Nauryz and weddings across Kazakhstan, from Almaty to Shymkent. A common mistake is boiling it too hard, which makes the cream split and turn greasy. Chef's tip: thicken it with a teaspoon of flour or cornflour only if your cream is thin; good double cream thickens by itself.

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Guilinggao

Herbal tea shops along Hong Kong's busy streets sell black, glossy bowls of guilinggao as a cooling tonic in the humid months, and families keep a few cups in the fridge to eat as an afternoon snack. The jelly is firm yet smooth, deep and woody, and properly bitter, so it's eaten with a generous pour of syrup, or honey for those who aren't vegan, and sometimes a splash of coconut milk. The original is made by boiling turtle plastron with herbs for hours; the commercially sold herbal jelly powder used here is plant-based, so this is the vegetarian version. Lumps are the usual setback, which happen when the powder is added straight to hot water. Chef's tip: whisk the powder into cold water first, then pour it into the boiling water and keep stirring until it turns glossy.

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Rabarbugrautur

Rhubarb is one of the few fruits that thrive in the windswept Faroe Islands, and rabarbugrautur, 'rhubarb porridge', is the summer pudding of Tórshavn and village kitchens alike: rhubarb stewed with sugar and thickened with potato starch into a glossy, tart, ruby-coloured pudding, served warm or chilled with cold cream or milk. A common mistake is boiling it after the starch goes in, which makes it thin and stringy. Chef's tip: take the pan off the heat before stirring in the starch slurry, then return it just until the first bubble, and stop.

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Talkhan

Around Bamiyan and Daikundi in the central mountains, where mulberry trees line the irrigation channels, families dry the white berries on rooftops in summer and pound them with walnuts into talkhan, a dense, chewy sweet that keeps for months. It was the food shepherds and travellers carried in a cloth for long days on foot, and it is still offered with green tea to guests in Hazara homes in winter. The flavour is honeyed, faintly fig-like and nutty, with no added sugar at all. Grinding it too fine and too long is the usual misstep, as the walnuts turn oily and the cake goes greasy; stop while there is still some texture. Chef's tip: toast the walnuts lightly and let them cool before pounding, which takes away any bitterness from the skins.

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Pohorska omleta

Up on the Pohorje range above Maribor in north-eastern Slovenia, mountain lodges and ski huts serve this to cold, hungry walkers and skiers: a thick, soufflé-light sweet omelette folded around tart cranberry jam and served with a cloud of whipped cream. The inside is airy and custardy, the base golden, and the sharp berries cut through the richness of the cream. Lingonberry jam is the closest match to the wild berries of the area if you can find it. The common mistake is too much heat; the base burns before the foam has set, so keep the flame low and let the grill finish the top. Make it for a lazy weekend pudding or a sweet brunch for two. Chef's tip: fold the omelette while it is hot, but put the cream on the plate, never inside, or it melts into a puddle.

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Maleeda

Maleeda is a sweet with a purpose: Afghan women make it as nazr, an offering promised when they pray for something, a recovery, a safe journey or a child's exam, and then share it out among neighbours or at a shrine on a Thursday evening. Thin breads are cooked on a griddle, torn up while still hot and rubbed between the palms with melted ghee, sugar and cardamom until they become soft, fragrant, golden crumbs, a bit like a warm, buttery crumble topping. It is eaten from the hand or with a spoon, sometimes with chopped pistachios. Letting the bread cool before rubbing is where it goes wrong, as cold bread will not soak up the ghee and stays in tough flakes. Chef's tip: a quick pulse in a food processor gives you even crumbs, but finish by rubbing with your fingers so the texture stays soft.

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Leipäjuusto with cloudberries

Leipäjuusto, 'bread cheese', comes from Lapland, Ostrobothnia and Kainuu in northern Finland: a flat round of fresh cheese baked or flame-grilled until it is spotted brown, squeaky and mild. In Lapland it is cut into cubes and dropped into hot coffee, or warmed and served with cloudberry jam and cream as a dessert at Christmas and celebrations. Sold as 'Finnish squeaky cheese' outside Finland; it is usually made with animal rennet, so look for a vegetarian version. A common mistake is warming it too long, which turns it rubbery and leaks whey. Chef's tip: warm it in a hot oven for just a few minutes, until soft and steaming, and pour over a little cream for the last minute.

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Hangop

Hangop means 'hang up', and that is the method: buttermilk poured into a cloth, hung up over a bowl overnight until it thickens into something like a tangy, creamy fresh cheese. It was a summer dessert on Dutch farms, eaten with rusk crumbs, brown sugar and fresh fruit, and is having a revival in Amsterdam restaurants. A common mistake is straining it at room temperature, which lets it turn too sour. Chef's tip: strain it in the fridge, and use a clean tea towel rather than cheesecloth; the finer weave keeps more of the creamy curd.

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Piraguas

Push-cart piragüeros park by the plazas of Old San Juan and along the beaches on hot afternoons, scraping a block of ice by hand, packing it into a paper cone shaped like a little pyramid and soaking it in bright syrups: tamarindo, parcha (passion fruit), coco or frambuesa. At home, two quick fruit syrups and a blender or ice shaver do the job. The common mistake is using coarsely crushed ice, which lets the syrup run straight through; the ice needs to be fluffy like snow to hold it. Chef's tip: pour a little syrup in the bottom of the cup, pack in ice, then add more syrup, so the last bite is as sweet as the first.

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