2799 Jain recipes with no onion, garlic, potato, carrot, fresh ginger or other root vegetables, and no mushrooms, eggs or honey. Hing, dry ginger and turmeric powder are fine. Each has photos, step-by-step instructions and cook times. The quickest, Apfelschorle, takes 2 minutes. Most take around 40 minutes.
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Orzata was first made from barley (orzo), but in Liguria, Sardinia and Sicily it has long been made from almonds: a milky, sweet almond syrup, diluted with ice-cold water and drunk on hot summer afternoons in seaside bars and at home. Its gentle almond and orange-blossom flavour makes it a children's favourite. Contains nuts. Chef's tip: soak the blanched almonds in water for an hour before blending; they release more milk and the syrup is richer.
Budino is the dessert Italian children find in the fridge on a Sunday afternoon: a soft, wobbly milk pudding flavoured with cocoa and set with cornflour, poured into little cups or a mould and chilled. It is the kind of thing nonna makes in ten minutes for the grandchildren's merenda (afternoon snack), and it is gluten free and egg free. Chef's tip: whisk the cocoa, sugar and cornflour together before adding the milk; mixed dry, they don't form lumps.
Salame di cioccolato is the sweet that Italian children help to make: crushed biscuits mixed with melted chocolate, butter and cocoa, rolled into a log, chilled and dusted with icing sugar so that, when sliced, it looks just like a salami with "fat" spots of biscuit. It is served at birthday parties and Christmas, and some families add rum for adults. This version uses no raw eggs and no alcohol, so it is safe for everyone. Chef's tip: break the biscuits by hand into pieces the size of a fingernail; crumbs make it look like a plain chocolate log.
In Italian bars you can always ask for "un orzo": a hot drink made from roasted barley that looks like coffee and has a toasty, slightly sweet taste but no caffeine. During the war, when coffee was scarce, families drank it every morning, and today it is given to children, pregnant women and anyone avoiding caffeine. It can be made in a moka pot, served in a small cup like espresso or in a large one with milk. Barley contains gluten. Chef's tip: don't press the barley into the moka basket like coffee; packed tightly, it blocks the water and the pot hisses.
Italian hot chocolate is not a milky drink but almost a pudding: thick enough to coat a spoon, made with real dark chocolate and cocoa thickened with a little starch. On cold winter afternoons in Turin, Florence and Perugia, families sit in historic cafés with a cup topped with whipped cream (con panna), dipping biscuits into it. Children love it. Chef's tip: mix the cornflour and cocoa with a little cold milk to a smooth paste first; dropped straight into hot milk, they form lumps.
Palmiers, "palm leaves", are the crisp, sugar-glazed puff pastry hearts sold by the bag in French bakeries and eaten with coffee or by children at goûter. Puff pastry is rolled in sugar instead of flour, folded towards the centre from both sides, sliced and baked until each heart is caramelised and glassy. The common mistake is underbaking, which leaves them soft and pale. Chef's tip: turn them over halfway through baking so both sides caramelise.
Gratin de blettes is a thrifty winter favourite in Lyon and across Provence, where Swiss chard is a staple of every market garden and both the white ribs and the green leaves are used. The stalks are boiled until tender, the leaves wilted, and everything is folded into a nutmeg béchamel and baked under crisp breadcrumbs. It is served as a side with roasts or on its own for supper. The common mistake is not cooking the stalks long enough, which leaves them stringy. Chef's tip: peel the strings off the backs of the wide stalks like celery; the gratin will be silky.
The bicerin ("little glass" in Piedmontese dialect) has been served since 1763 at the tiny Caffè al Bicerin opposite the Consolata church in Turin, where it was the drink that churchgoers had after fasting before Mass. It is three layers in a small glass: thick hot chocolate at the bottom, espresso in the middle and cold, lightly whipped cream on top, not stirred, so you taste each layer in turn. Contains caffeine. Chef's tip: pour the coffee and then the cream slowly over the back of a spoon so the layers sit on top of each other instead of mixing.
Mendiants are little discs of chocolate topped with an almond, a hazelnut, a raisin and a dried fig, the four "beggars" of the Provençal Christmas, whose colours were said to match the robes of the four mendicant orders of monks; they are part of the thirteen desserts and a favourite home-made Christmas gift. The common mistake is letting the chocolate set before adding the toppings, so they fall off. Chef's tip: pipe only six discs at a time and top them straight away.
Apricot jam is the most loved jam in France, made in July with the apricots of the Roussillon and the Rhône valley and used for breakfast, for glazing fruit tarts and for filling croissants. Halved apricots are macerated with sugar, then boiled quickly so they keep their bright orange colour. The common mistake is stirring too hard, which breaks up the fruit. Chef's tip: add a few drops of almond extract at the end for the taste of the kernels; do not add the kernels themselves, which are not safe to eat in quantity.
Tarte à la tomate is a summer favourite all over Burgundy, home of Dijon mustard, made from July to September for picnics, light lunches and apéritif. A crisp shortcrust case is spread thickly with mustard and grated cheese, covered with overlapping tomato slices and herbs and baked until the tomatoes are jammy; the mustard mellows into a warm, tangy layer. Comté and Gruyère are usually made with animal rennet; use a vegetarian hard cheese if you prefer. The common mistake is using watery tomatoes, which make the pastry soggy. Chef's tip: salt and drain the tomato slices on kitchen paper for 15 minutes before laying them on the tart.
The pompe à l'huile is the centrepiece of the thirteen desserts of Christmas Eve in Provence, a flat, slashed sweet bread made with olive oil and scented with orange-blossom water. Tradition says it must be torn by hand, never cut, or you will be ruined in the year to come, and it is eaten after the gros souper on 24 December. The common mistake is using a harsh, peppery olive oil, which overpowers it. Chef's tip: use a mild, fruity olive oil and brush more over the warm loaf.
In Italy the cappuccino is strictly a breakfast drink, ordered at the bar counter with a cornetto before 11 in the morning, never after a meal. It is a single espresso topped with an equal amount of hot milk and a thick cap of velvety foam, named after the brown habits of Capuchin friars. Baristas in Turin and Trieste are famous for their thick, glossy microfoam. Contains caffeine, so it's not for children. Chef's tip: heat the milk only to about 65 °C, when the jug is too hot to hold for more than a second; hotter milk tastes cooked and the foam collapses.
The Saint-Honoré, named after the patron saint of bakers and created in a pâtisserie on the rue Saint-Honoré in Paris around 1850, is a celebration cake for christenings and saints' days: a puff pastry disc ringed with choux, a crown of caramel-dipped cream puffs and a centre of piped vanilla cream. It is a project, but each part is simple. The common mistake is touching the caramel, which burns badly. Chef's tip: dip the puffs top-down into the caramel and set them upside down on baking paper, so the tops dry flat and glassy.
The religieuse, "nun", is a Parisian pâtisserie classic invented in the 1850s, so called because the two stacked choux buns, glazed in brown icing with a little ruff of buttercream, look like a nun in her habit. It is still a treat bought at weekend bakeries in Paris for a special goûter. The common mistake is underbaking the choux, which collapse when filled. Chef's tip: once baked, prop the oven door open with a wooden spoon and leave the choux inside for 10 minutes to dry out.
The mustard vinaigrette is made fresh in every French kitchen before dinner, often right in the bottom of the salad bowl, and spooned over butter lettuce served after the main course and before the cheese. The classic ratio is one part vinegar to three of oil, with a spoonful of Dijon mustard to hold it together into a thick emulsion. The common mistake is dissolving the salt in the oil, where it stays gritty; it must go in the vinegar first. Chef's tip: dress the leaves just before serving and toss with your hands, so every leaf is coated but not soggy.
The puits d'amour, "well of love", is an 18th-century Parisian pastry still made by old-fashioned pâtisseries in the capital, especially the famous one on the rue Montorgueil: small puff pastry cases filled with vanilla cream and finished with a crackling caramelised sugar top, like a crème brûlée in pastry. The common mistake is overfilling the cases, so the cream bubbles out under the grill. Chef's tip: fill just level and use a blowtorch for the sugar, in two thin layers.
The tarte fine aux pommes is the elegant, wafer-thin apple tart of Parisian brasseries, ordered after lunch and served warm, sometimes with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Paper-thin slices of apple are overlapped on a disc of puff pastry, brushed with butter and sugar and baked until the edges caramelise. The common mistake is letting the pastry puff, which pushes the apples off. Chef's tip: bake the pastry with a second tray on top for the first 10 minutes to keep it flat and crisp.
The tarte Bourdaloue was created in the 19th century by a Parisian pâtissier on the rue Bourdaloue, behind the church of Notre-Dame-de-Lorette, and it is still a classic autumn and winter tart in Paris bakeries. Poached pear halves are fanned over almond cream in a sweet pastry case and baked until the cream puffs up golden around the fruit. The common mistake is using wet pears, which make the almond cream soggy. Chef's tip: pat the pears dry on kitchen paper and slice them thinly crosswise, keeping each half together, so they fan out neatly.
Crème chantilly is named after the Château de Chantilly north of Paris, where the 17th-century steward Vatel is said to have served it, and today it crowns waffles, crêpes, fruit tarts and hot chocolate in cafés across France. Cold cream is whipped with a little icing sugar and vanilla to soft, billowy peaks, light rather than stiff. The common mistake is over-whipping, which turns the cream grainy and then into butter. Chef's tip: chill the bowl and whisk for 15 minutes first, and stop as soon as the cream holds soft peaks that just flop over.
Green tomato jam is the thrifty end-of-summer preserve of French kitchen gardens, made in October in the south-west and Provence with the tomatoes that will never ripen before the frost; it tastes surprisingly like a mix of melon and lemon and is served with breakfast or with cheese. The common mistake is cutting the tomatoes too big, so they stay hard. Chef's tip: slice them thinly and leave them overnight in the sugar; they turn translucent when cooked.
Poires au vin are a simple winter dessert from Burgundy and the Loire, whole pears poached in red wine with sugar, cinnamon, orange and cloves until they turn a deep ruby, then served cold in their reduced syrup. The red wine version is made with alcohol, and most but not all of it cooks off; for children, pregnant guests or anyone avoiding alcohol, use red grape juice with less sugar and a squeeze of lemon. The common mistake is not turning the pears, so they colour unevenly. Chef's tip: leave the pears in the syrup overnight for the deepest colour.
Marrons glacés are the luxurious Christmas sweet of the Ardèche and Privas, whole chestnuts candied slowly in vanilla syrup and finished with a thin sugar glaze, given as gifts in December and served with coffee after the Christmas meal. Home versions use cooked, peeled chestnuts, which saves the hardest work. The common mistake is stirring, which breaks the chestnuts. Chef's tip: wrap the chestnuts in muslin, or set them in a steamer basket, so you can lift them in and out of the syrup without touching them.
Strawberry jam is the jam of French breakfasts, spread on buttered baguette or tartines and stirred into fromage blanc, and families make it in early summer when the Plougastel and Carpentras strawberries are cheap at the market. Macerating the fruit overnight in sugar keeps the berries whole. The common mistake is cooking too long, which darkens it and loses the fresh taste. Chef's tip: test for a set on a cold saucer; when you push it with a finger, it should wrinkle.
Crème de marrons, sweet chestnut cream, was invented in Privas in the Ardèche in the 1880s to use up broken chestnuts from making marrons glacés, and it is now a French store-cupboard classic: spread on crêpes at Candlemas, stirred into fromage blanc, or piled into a Mont Blanc dessert. This home version uses cooked, peeled chestnuts. The common mistake is not blending it smooth enough. Chef's tip: blend while still warm, and push it through a sieve for a silky finish.
Chocolate truffles, named after the black truffles of Périgord they resemble, are the home-made Christmas gift and after-dinner treat of France, rolled roughly and dusted with bitter cocoa. They need just good dark chocolate, cream and a little butter. The common mistake is overheating the chocolate, which makes it split and greasy. Chef's tip: work with cold hands and a melon baller, and keep the tray in the fridge between batches.
Poires Belle-Hélène was created in Paris in the 1860s, probably by the great chef Escoffier, to honour Offenbach's operetta La Belle Hélène, and it is still on bistro menus and served at home as an easy winter dessert. Whole pears are poached in vanilla syrup, then served cold with vanilla ice cream and a jug of hot dark chocolate sauce. The common mistake is poaching hard pears too fast, so they stay crunchy in the middle. Chef's tip: the pears are done when a knife slides in like butter; keep the syrup at a gentle shiver.
Crêpes dentelle, "lace crêpes", are a speciality of Quimper in Brittany, said to have been invented by a baker there in 1886 who burnt a crêpe and rolled it up; they are wafer-thin, crisp, buttery rolled biscuits, sold in tins all over Brittany and eaten with coffee or crumbled over ice cream. The common mistake is spreading the batter too thick, so they will not crisp. Chef's tip: spread the batter so thin you can see the tray through it, and roll each one as soon as it comes out of the oven.
Candied fruit is a speciality of Apt in the Vaucluse, the world capital of fruits confits, and a bowl of glistening candied clementines, melon and orange peel is one of the thirteen desserts of Christmas Eve in Provence. Home candying takes several days of patient simmering in syrup, but very little work each day. The common mistake is boiling the fruit hard, which toughens it. Chef's tip: increase the sugar a little each day so it soaks in slowly to the centre.
Black cherry jam is the pride of the Basque country, made in June with the black cherries of Itxassou, where the village holds a cherry festival every year, and it is served with a slice of ewe's-milk cheese (Ossau-Iraty) after a meal, or used to fill the gâteau basque. The cherries are stoned and cooked until the jam is dark and glossy. The common mistake is leaving in stones; count them out. Chef's tip: wear an apron and stone the cherries over a bowl to catch the juice.
Redcurrant jelly is a summer preserve of eastern France, and in Bar-le-Duc in Lorraine the currants are still seeded by hand with a goose quill for the famous whole-berry jam; at home, the jelly is simply strained to a clear, ruby set, spread on bread and used to glaze fruit tarts. Redcurrants are full of pectin, so it sets easily. The common mistake is squeezing the jelly bag, which makes it cloudy. Chef's tip: let the juice drip on its own, overnight if you can.
Pâte feuilletée is the queen of French pastries, the flaky dough behind galettes des rois, mille-feuilles, vol-au-vents and palmiers, still made by hand in pâtisseries all over France. A simple dough is wrapped around a flat block of cold butter, then rolled and folded six times, so that in the oven the water in the butter turns to steam and lifts hundreds of layers. It takes time rather than skill. The common mistake is letting the butter get warm and soft, which smears the layers together. Chef's tip: chill the dough for 30 minutes after every two turns, and work in a cool kitchen.
The trois chocolats is the most popular birthday entremets in French pâtisseries, a crisp praline base topped with three layers of mousse, dark, milk and white chocolate, set in a ring and sliced to show the stripes. This home version sets the mousses with agar, so it is vegetarian. The common mistake is pouring a layer before the one below is set, so they mix. Chef's tip: chill each layer for 30 minutes, until it no longer moves when you tilt the ring.
Dattes fourrées, dates stuffed with pale green or pink almond paste, are one of the thirteen desserts on the Christmas Eve table in Provence and a favourite home-made sweet across France in December, simple enough for children to help make. Soft Medjool or Deglet Nour dates are split, stoned and filled with a little roll of marzipan, then rolled in sugar. The common mistake is using very dry dates, which split. Chef's tip: warm the marzipan in your hands before colouring; the colour mixes in evenly.
Beurre maître d'hôtel is the simplest of the French flavoured butters, a roll of soft butter beaten with parsley and lemon that every bistro keeps in the fridge to slice on to steak frites, grilled fish and baked potatoes, where it melts into a fresh, green sauce. It takes ten minutes and freezes beautifully. The common mistake is using butter straight from the fridge, which will not take the lemon juice and turns lumpy. Chef's tip: roll it into a log in baking paper, chill and slice coins as you need them; it keeps a month in the freezer.
Velouté is one of the five mother sauces of classic French cooking, taught in every cookery school from Paris to Lyon and used as the base for dozens of sauces for vegetables, eggs, chicken and fish. A blond roux of butter and flour is cooked without browning, then whisked into hot light stock and simmered until silky. This version uses vegetable stock so it is vegetarian; for the classic, use chicken, veal or fish stock to match the dish. The common mistake is not simmering long enough, which leaves the sauce tasting of raw flour. Chef's tip: add the hot stock to a warm roux gradually, whisking hard, and you will never get lumps.
Fig jam is made in late summer in Provence and the south-west, when the trees are heavy with violet figs, and it is served with breakfast and, very often, with cheese, especially goat's cheese and ewe's cheese from the Pyrenees. The figs are cooked with lemon and vanilla until thick and glossy. The common mistake is undercooking it, so it stays runny. Chef's tip: figs are low in pectin, so add a grated apple or use jam sugar.
Raie au beurre noir is a much-loved bistro and home dish all along the French coasts and in Paris, served on Fridays with boiled potatoes. The skate wing is poached gently in a vinegary court-bouillon until the soft, ribbed flesh slides off its cartilage, then it is covered with butter cooked until deep brown and nutty, sharpened with capers and a splash of vinegar. Despite the name, the butter should be dark hazelnut, never black and burnt. The common mistake is overcooking the skate, which turns it stringy. Chef's tip: buy skate very fresh; any smell of ammonia means it is old.
Sole meunière, "in the style of the miller's wife", is the fish dish of old Paris brasseries and Normandy seaside restaurants, served on Fridays and for special lunches with boiled potatoes. The sole is dusted in flour and cooked in foaming butter until golden, then bathed in nutty browned butter with lemon juice and parsley. The common mistake is a pan that is too crowded or not hot enough, so the flour turns soggy instead of crisp. Chef's tip: cook the fish in clarified butter or butter with a little oil, then make a fresh batch of browned butter for the sauce; it stays golden, not burnt.
Riz au lait is the comforting rice pudding of French grandmothers, cooked slowly on the hob with milk and vanilla until thick and creamy, eaten warm or cold at goûter, sometimes with a spoonful of caramel or jam. In Normandy, a baked version is called teurgoule. The common mistake is cooking it too fast, so it sticks and the rice stays hard. Chef's tip: stir in the sugar only at the end; added earlier, it toughens the rice.
The tarte aux fraises arrives in French bakery windows with the first Gariguette and Plougastel strawberries in May and stays all summer, the most popular fruit tart for birthday lunches and Sunday family meals. A crisp sablé case is filled with vanilla crème pâtissière and covered in neat rows of halved strawberries, glazed for shine. The common mistake is filling the case too early, so the pastry goes soft. Chef's tip: brush the baked case with a thin layer of melted white chocolate; it seals the pastry and keeps it crisp for hours.
The marocchino was born in the bars of Alessandria in Piedmont, and it is now ordered all over northern Italy: a little glass dusted inside with cocoa, filled with an espresso and topped with milk foam and more cocoa, sometimes with a spoonful of chocolate sauce at the bottom. Its name comes from the brown colour of a leather called "marocchino" once used for hat bands. It is a mid-morning or afternoon treat. Contains caffeine. Chef's tip: dust the empty glass with cocoa before pouring the coffee in; it sticks to the hot glass and gives each sip a chocolate edge.
At every Italian children's birthday party, and in every bakery window from Rome to Bari, there is a tray of pizzette: small round pizzas the size of a palm, topped with tomato and a little mozzarella and oregano, soft and easy for small hands. Mothers buy them by the dozen for school snacks and christening buffets. They freeze well. Mozzarella is usually made with calf rennet; vegetarian versions are easy to find. Chef's tip: cook the tomato sauce briefly first and keep it thick; a runny sauce makes soggy pizzette that slide off the plate.
Yaksik began as a dish for Daeboreum, the first full moon of the lunar year, and is now a standard of Chuseok and Seollal tables and of birthday gifts, cut into neat squares and wrapped in cling film. Glutinous rice is steamed, tossed with dark sugar, soy sauce, sesame oil and cinnamon, then steamed a second time with chestnuts, jujubes and pine nuts until it turns a deep caramel brown and holds together like a soft, chewy cake. The usual mistake is skipping the soak: unsoaked rice stays hard in the centre however long you steam it. Contains soy, sesame and pine nuts. Rice cakes are dense and sticky, so cut them small for young children and older people and make sure they eat sitting down: they are a known choking risk. Chef's tip: caramelise a spoonful of the sugar in a dry pan before adding it; that dark caramel gives the traditional colour without needing extra soy sauce.
Bresaola is beef cured with salt and spices and air-dried in the cool mountain valleys of the Valtellina, near Sondrio in Lombardy. Locals serve it as a light lunch or an antipasto before pizzoccheri: thin dark-red slices dressed with lemon and olive oil, topped with peppery rocket and flakes of Grana Padano. It takes five minutes and needs nothing else but bread. Chef's tip: dress the bresaola with lemon 5 minutes before serving; the acid softens the edges of the slices and brings out the meat's sweetness, but much longer and it turns grey.
Ichigo daifuku appeared in Tokyo sweet shops in the 1980s and quickly became the treat everyone queues for from January to April, when Japanese strawberries are at their best. A whole berry is wrapped in smooth sweet bean paste, then in a thin skin of soft, stretchy mochi, so you get juicy fruit, earthy sweetness and a pillowy chew in one bite. Mochi is very sticky: cut it into small pieces for young children and older people, and make sure they chew well and eat sitting down. The common mistake is wrapping a damp strawberry, which makes the bean paste slide and the mochi split; dry the berries completely. Chef's tip: microwave the mochi dough in short bursts and stir hard between them, until it turns translucent and elastic, rather than in one long blast.
Yōkan is one of Japan's oldest sweets, brought by Zen monks and refined in Edo-period Tokyo into dense, dark blocks that were carried by samurai and are still given as gifts in long wooden boxes. Red bean paste, sugar and agar are cooked down until thick and set into a smooth, firm jelly that slices cleanly, served in thin pieces with bitter green tea. The common mistake is undercooking the agar: it must boil for two full minutes or the yōkan won't set firmly. Chef's tip: cook the paste until a trail drawn across the bottom of the pan holds for a second before closing, which gives the classic firm, glossy neri yōkan.
In the ume orchards of Minabe, in Wakayama's old Kishu province, families salt the June harvest of ripe yellow ume in crocks and then spread them on bamboo mats under the hottest days of late July, the doyo-boshi, before the plums go back into their brine. The result is wrinkled, intensely salty-sour fruit, the classic filling for onigiri and the red sun in the middle of a lunchbox of rice. This is a once-a-year project spread over about two months; the active work is about two hours. Do not cut the salt: below about 15 % of the fruit's weight the plums go mouldy, which is the most common failure at home. Chef's tip: use only fully ripe, yellow, fragrant ume; hard green ones turn tough and bitter.
On 5 May, Children's Day, families in Tokyo and across eastern Japan eat kashiwa mochi: soft, flat rice cakes folded over sweet bean paste and wrapped in an oak leaf. Oak trees keep their old leaves until new ones bud, so the leaf stands for a family line carrying on. The leaf isn't eaten; it adds a faint woody scent and keeps the mochi moist. Mochi is very sticky: cut it into small pieces for young children and older people, and make sure they chew well and eat sitting down. The common mistake is steaming the dough too briefly, which leaves it pasty; steam until it turns slightly translucent, then knead. Chef's tip: dried oak leaves from Japanese grocers need a 10-minute simmer and a rinse before use; if you can't find them, wrap in cherry or bamboo leaves or baking paper.
Real Sicilian pistachio gelato is not bright green; it is a dull, olive-brown colour and tastes intensely of roasted nuts, especially when made with pistachios from Bronte on the slopes of Mount Etna. In Palermo and Catania it is eaten in a brioche for breakfast or as a cone after dinner. The secret is pure pistachio paste, with no added colour or flavourings. Contains nuts. Chef's tip: if you can't find pistachio paste, blend roasted pistachios with a spoon of oil for 5 minutes until it runs smooth; any graininess shows up in the gelato.
Four-cheese pizza is a pizzeria classic from Milan to Palermo, a pizza bianca (no tomato) where each cheese does a different job: mozzarella for stretch, gorgonzola for a blue tang, fontina from the Aosta Valley for creaminess and Parmigiano for a salty crust. It is the order for winter evenings, often with a drizzle of honey or a few walnuts on top. Most of these cheeses are made with animal rennet; choose vegetarian versions of each if you need to. Chef's tip: cut the cheeses into small cubes rather than slices and scatter them unevenly; they melt at different speeds and give pockets of flavour.
Anmitsu became a craze in Tokyo's Ginza and Asakusa tea rooms in the 1930s and is still the classic summer order in kanmidokoro, the sweet cafés of old Tokyo. Clear, firm cubes of agar jelly are piled into a bowl with seasonal fruit, a scoop of sweet bean paste and boiled red peas, then drenched in dark, smoky kuromitsu syrup. The common mistake is using gelatin, which melts; agar jelly stays firm and refreshing at room temperature. Chef's tip: make the kuromitsu with Okinawan kokuto black sugar if you can; it gives a deep, almost liquorice-like flavour that muscovado only gets close to.
Mitarashi dango are said to come from Shimogamo Shrine in Kyoto, where they were sold at the midsummer purification festival; today they are the snack of shrine fairs, flower-viewing picnics and station kiosks all over Japan. Chewy little rice-flour balls are threaded on skewers, toasted until speckled, and coated in a translucent, sweet-salty soy glaze that tastes a little like caramel. Mochi is very sticky: cut it into small pieces for young children and older people, and make sure they chew well and eat sitting down. The common mistake is a runny glaze: it must simmer until it turns clear and thick, or it slides off. Chef's tip: mix silken tofu into the rice flour instead of some of the water; the dumplings stay soft for hours instead of hardening as they cool.
Pinsa is a modern Roman creation inspired by the flatbreads of ancient Rome: an oval base made from a mix of wheat, rice and soy flour (or in this home version, wheat and rice), with a lot of water and a long rest in the fridge. The result is crisp outside, light as a cloud inside and easy to digest. Pinserie in Rome top it with everything from buffalo mozzarella to courgette flowers; this version uses cherry tomatoes, mozzarella and basil. Mozzarella is usually made with calf rennet; vegetarian versions are easy to find. Chef's tip: shape the pinsa by pressing with your fingertips on a floured board, never stretching it; you want to keep all the bubbles.
On 1 May, Romans head out to the parks and the Castelli Romani hills with a sack of fresh broad beans still in their pods and a hunk of young Pecorino Romano, and spend the afternoon shelling, nibbling and talking. The pairing is simple and very Roman: sweet, grassy raw beans against salty, sharp cheese, often with a glass of something cold and a hunk of bread. Only the youngest, smallest beans work raw, so this is a dish for a few weeks of spring. Traditional pecorino uses animal rennet; choose a vegetarian sheep's cheese if you need to. Chef's tip: taste a bean before you buy; if it is starchy or bitter rather than sweet, braise those beans instead.
In Milan, nobody throws away risotto alla milanese. The next day it is pressed into a hot buttered pan and fried until it forms a thin, crackling golden disc, flipped "al salto" (with a jump) like a pancake. Old Milanese trattorie near the Brera district served it late at night after the theatre, and it is still a favourite way to use up saffron risotto. The cheese in the leftover risotto is usually made with animal rennet. Chef's tip: use cold risotto straight from the fridge and press it thin; warm or thick risotto won't crisp and falls apart when you flip it.
Dalgona, or ppopgi, was the 1970s and 80s snack of Seoul alleyways, where an old man with a little stove melted sugar in a ladle and stamped a star or umbrella into it; if you could break the shape out without cracking it you won a free one. It is just sugar and a pinch of baking soda, puffed into a crisp, toffee-brown honeycomb that tastes faintly bitter-sweet. The common mistake is adding too much baking soda, which leaves the candy bitter and soapy; a tiny pinch on the tip of a chopstick is all it needs. Melted sugar reaches about 160 °C and burns badly, so children should watch while an adult does the melting, and should only press shapes once the candy has set a little. Chef's tip: use a stainless-steel ladle or small pan, not non-stick, and keep the flame low; the moment the sugar is clear and amber, take it off.
In the narrow streets of Naples's historic centre, pizzerie sell a small margherita folded in four like a wallet, wrapped in paper and eaten while walking, for a couple of euros. It is the city's original fast food and still a lunch for students and workers around Via dei Tribunali and the Spanish Quarter. The pizza is small and soft so it folds without cracking. Mozzarella is usually made with calf rennet; vegetarian versions are easy to find. Chef's tip: take the pizza out while the crust is still soft and a little pale; a crisp pizza snaps when you fold it.
No osechi box, the lacquered stack of cold dishes Japanese families share over the first three days of January, is complete without kuromame: plump black soybeans simmered so slowly in syrup that they stay whole, wrinkle-free and shining like jet. The word 'mame' also means hard work and good health, so eating them wishes for a diligent year. They are soft, sweet and gently savoury, with a deep bean flavour. The common mistake is letting the beans touch the air while cooking, which wrinkles their skins; keep them submerged under a drop-lid the whole time and top up with water. Chef's tip: soak the dry beans directly in the hot seasoned syrup overnight rather than in plain water, which seasons them from the inside and keeps the skins smooth.
Ohagi are made twice a year, at the spring and autumn equinoxes (higan), when Japanese families visit ancestors' graves and leave these rice balls as offerings; in spring they are called botamochi. Sticky rice is cooked and only half-pounded, so you can still see the grains, then shaped into ovals and coated in chunky red bean paste, roasted soybean flour (kinako) or black sesame. Mochi is very sticky: cut it into small pieces for young children and older people, and make sure they chew well and eat sitting down. The common mistake is pounding the rice smooth like mochi; ohagi should keep a rustic, grainy texture. Chef's tip: wet your hands and squeeze out cling film between shaping, so the rice never sticks.
Walk past any Roman forno at eleven in the morning and you'll see pizza bianca coming out of the oven in planks a metre long: crisp on top, chewy and full of holes inside, brushed with olive oil and scattered with salt. Romans buy it by the slice for children's snacks after school, or split it open and fill it with mortadella or fresh figs in late summer. The dough is very wet and needs only folding, not kneading. Chef's tip: stretch the dough with oily fingertips straight onto the tray; dimpling it presses big bubbles into the dough that puff up in the oven.
Sciatt means "toads" in the dialect of Valtellina, the Alpine valley near Sondrio, because of their lumpy shape. They are buckwheat batter fritters, each hiding a cube of Valtellina Casera cheese that melts as they fry, served on a bed of chicory salad. Mountain huts and village festivals serve them hot from the pan in autumn and winter. Local cheeses are usually made with animal rennet; choose a vegetarian melting cheese if you need to. Chef's tip: make the batter with very cold sparkling water and a splash of grappa, as locals do; the bubbles and alcohol make a lighter, crispier crust. The alcohol mostly cooks off in the frying; leave it out for an alcohol-free version.
Baci di dama, "lady's kisses", were born in Tortona in Piedmont in the 1800s: two small domes of buttery hazelnut shortbread pressed together with dark chocolate, like two lips meeting in a kiss. They are sold in every pastry shop in Piedmont and eaten with coffee or as a gift at Christmas. The local Piedmont hazelnuts are some of the best in the world. Contains nuts. Chef's tip: weigh each ball of dough so they're all the same size; matching domes make neat kisses.
High in the Valtellina valley near Sondrio, where wheat struggles but buckwheat grows well, polenta is made grey-brown and nutty with a mix of buckwheat and cornmeal. Taragna gets its name from the tarell, the long wooden stick used to stir it in a copper pot over the fire. At the end, butter and cubes of the local Valtellina Casera or Bitto cheese are stirred in until they melt into strings. It is winter food for cold mountain evenings, eaten with mushrooms or sausages on the side. Local cheeses are usually made with animal rennet; a vegetarian melting cheese works. Chef's tip: stir the flour into the boiling water in a slow rain with a whisk; once it is all in, switch to a wooden spoon and keep stirring.
At the end of August, all over southern and central Italy, families gather for the "giornata della salsa", the day of the sauce: crates of ripe plum tomatoes are washed, cooked, passed through a hand-cranked mill and bottled in hundreds, with a basil leaf in each bottle. The passata lasts until the next summer and is used for every ragù and pizza. For home bottling, add lemon juice to each jar and process in a water bath, as tomatoes alone are not acidic enough to be safe at room temperature. Chef's tip: use only fully ripe, deep red plum tomatoes; underripe tomatoes give a pale, sour passata.
Carciofi alla giudia come from Rome's old Jewish Ghetto, where for centuries the restaurants along Via del Portico d'Ottavia have fried them from February to April, when the round Roman romanesco artichokes are in season. The artichokes are trimmed, fried once slowly until tender, then opened like flowers and fried again in hotter oil until the leaves are bronze and crunchy like crisps, while the heart stays soft. Chef's tip: before the second fry, flick a few drops of cold water into the oil from your fingers, standing well back; Roman cooks say the spatter is what makes the leaves extra crisp. Do this carefully.
Stracciatella was invented in 1961 at the Gelateria La Marianna in Bergamo's upper town, inspired by stracciatella soup, where egg is stirred into broth in little rags (stracci). The gelato maker drizzled melted dark chocolate into churning fior di latte, where it froze instantly into thin, crisp shards. It became one of the best-loved flavours in Italy, a favourite with children. Chef's tip: drizzle the chocolate in a thin stream right at the end of churning; it must hit the cold gelato and set at once, or it forms hard lumps.
Every Roman pizzeria a taglio and friggitoria has a tray of fiori di zucca in summer: courgette flowers stuffed with a stick of mozzarella, dipped in a thin cold batter and fried until they shatter. Romans usually tuck in an anchovy fillet, but this vegetarian version swaps it for a little lemon zest and a caper, which gives the same salty spark. They are eaten as an antipasto before pizza or as a snack standing at the counter. Mozzarella is usually made with calf rennet; vegetarian versions are easy to find. Chef's tip: make the batter with ice-cold sparkling water and leave a few lumps; a smooth, warm batter fries heavy and soft.
On summer mornings in Catania, Messina and the towns around Mount Etna, Sicilians have granita for breakfast: a glass of soft, flaky ice made from almond milk and sugar, eaten with a warm brioche col tuppo (with a little bun on top) for dunking. The almond granita is the most traditional flavour, white, sweet and fragrant. It is made without a machine, just scraped with a fork as it freezes. Contains nuts. Chef's tip: stir the granita every 30 minutes without fail; that's what gives it the soft, creamy flakes instead of a solid block.
In Sicily, and in Rome at the famous Tazza d'Oro café near the Pantheon, coffee granita is served in a glass layered with unsweetened whipped cream: cream at the bottom, coffee ice in the middle and more cream on top. It is a summer breakfast or afternoon pick-me-up, eaten with a long spoon or a brioche. It contains caffeine, so it isn't for children. Chef's tip: make the coffee strong and sweet; flavours fade when frozen, so it should taste almost too sweet before it goes in the freezer.
Mujigae tteok is the rice cake of children's birthdays and school picnics in Korea, with soft stripes of pink, yellow, green and white that stand for harmony and happiness; it is also a fixture on the doljanchi first-birthday table. Each layer is the same lightly sweet, fluffy steamed rice flour, coloured naturally. The common mistake is packing the layers down: press too hard and the cake turns dense and the colours bleed, so spread each layer and just level it with a scraper. Rice cakes are chewy and sticky, a known choking risk: cut them into small pieces for young children and older people and eat them sitting down. Chef's tip: colour each portion of flour before sieving it, so the colour is even with no streaks.
In late June and July the black mulberry trees of Sicily, especially around Messina and Acireale, drop their dark, juicy fruit, and the bars turn them into a granita the colour of ink, sweet and tangy, served in a glass with a warm brioche. Mulberries stain everything, so locals eat it carefully. If you can't find black mulberries, blackberries make a very similar granita. Chef's tip: add a squeeze of lemon; it brightens the berry flavour and keeps the colour vivid.
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