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No onion, no garlic recipes (Swaminarayan and sattvic)

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3470 vegetarian recipes cooked without onion or garlic, as in Swaminarayan and sattvic kitchens, with no meat, fish, eggs or alcohol. Each has photos, step-by-step instructions and cook times. The quickest, Apfelschorle, takes 2 minutes. Most take around 45 minutes.

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Halawa tahiniya (Egyptian tahini halva)

In Egypt halawa tahiniya is a breakfast and suhoor food more than a dessert: it is eaten in Ramadan before dawn, on Coptic fasting days when animal foods are avoided, and spread in warm aish baladi bread at any time of year. Tahini is mixed with sugar syrup at the firm-ball stage, and the syrup crystallises through the sesame paste to give the halva its fibrous, crumbly strands. It tastes nutty, sweet and toasty, and pairs well with sweet tea. Factory halva often uses soapwort root, whose foam whips the syrup and gives longer strands; this home version offers it as an option, and never uses egg white. It is naturally egg-free: the hot syrup, crystallising as it is folded into the tahini, is what sets it. Chef's tip: stir only until the mixture turns matte and starts to look stringy. The common mistake is over-mixing, which makes the oil separate and the halva greasy.

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Abekawa mochi (kinako mochi)Mochi with roasted soybean flour

Abekawa mochi comes from the banks of the Abe River in Shizuoka, where teahouses served it to travellers on the old Tōkaidō road, and today families all over Japan make it with leftover New Year mochi and at kagami-biraki on 11 January, when the offering cakes are broken open and shared for good health. Kinako, roasted soybean flour, gives a nutty, toasty sweetness, and its golden colour is said to look like gold dust, a wish for wealth in the year ahead. The mochi underneath is pillowy and stretchy. Serve with hot green tea, with a little black sugar syrup (kuromitsu) poured over if you like. Chef's tip: dunk the cooked mochi in hot water just before rolling, so the kinako sticks in an even, velvety coat.

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Hanami dango (three-colour dumplings)

When the cherry trees bloom in late March and April, families and colleagues spread blankets under the branches for hanami, and these skewers of pink, white and green dumplings are the sweet that goes with them. The colours tell the story of the season: pink buds on top, white for the fading snow, and green for the summer leaves still to come. They are lightly sweet and pleasantly chewy, with a faint grassiness from the matcha, and need no sauce; just bring a flask of green tea. Mochi is very sticky: cut the dumplings into small pieces for young children and older people, and make sure they chew well and eat sitting down. Chef's tip: add the water a spoonful at a time and stop when the dough feels like a soft earlobe, since rice flours vary a lot in how much they drink.

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BeraweckaDried fruit and nut Christmas loaf

In Alsace, berawecka (the name means 'pear loaf') is baked in early December and sliced thinly through Advent, often handed to neighbours and godchildren. It is mostly fruit: dried pears, figs, prunes, raisins and walnuts held together with just enough bread dough, spiced with cinnamon, star anise and clove. Alsatian families soak the fruit in kirsch; this version uses strong black tea, which keeps the loaf moist and alcohol-free, and you can add 3 tbsp kirsch to the soak for adults if you like. It is vegan, keeps for weeks wrapped in foil, and is lovely buttered with a cup of tea. Chef's tip: cut the pears and figs the same size as the raisins, so every slice holds a mosaic of fruit instead of big lumps that tear the loaf.

100 minFrenchBakingVegan
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Candied lotus root (tong lin ngau)

Open the octagonal tray of togetherness in a Hong Kong or Guangdong home at Lunar New Year and you will usually find pale, sugar-frosted rounds of candied lotus root. The lotus is prized because its root grows in linked sections and its name, lin, sounds like the word for 'continuous', so the slices carry a wish for abundance that keeps coming back year after year. Simmered slowly in syrup and then dried, they turn translucent and chewy at the centre with a fine crust of sugar and a faint, earthy sweetness, and the lacy pattern of holes stays on show. Set them out with candied lotus seeds, melon seeds and a pot of jasmine or pu-erh tea for visitors. Chef's tip: blanch the slices with a pinch of salt and a splash of vinegar first; it stops them going grey and keeps them crisp-edged instead of mushy.

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Changnian cai (long-year greens soup)

Changnian cai, 'long-year greens', is a must on the Taiwanese New Year's Eve table. Whole heads of mustard greens are cooked with their leaves uncut, and each person eats a long leaf from end to end without biting it short, a wish for a long life for the parents and the whole family. The greens turn silky and tender, with a pleasant bitterness that mellows in the savoury broth. This version uses vegetable stock with dried shiitake and ginger, so it is vegan. Serve it alongside the reunion dinner's rich braises and fish, where its clean taste is welcome. Chef's tip: blanch the greens first; it takes away the sharp bitterness and keeps them bright.

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Tsukimi dango (moon-viewing dumplings)

On the night of the harvest moon in September or early October, families across Japan set a tray of plain white dumplings by the window with a vase of pampas grass, as thanks for the harvest and an offering to the full moon. The round white dango stand for the moon itself, and the traditional count is fifteen, for the fifteenth night of the eighth lunar month, stacked nine, four and two. This Kanto-style dough is steamed and then kneaded, which gives a smoother, firmer bite than boiled dango, with a clean rice flavour that loves a dusting of kinako or a spoonful of sweet red bean paste once the moon-viewing is over. Mochi is very sticky: cut the dumplings small for young children and older people, and see that they chew well and eat sitting down. Chef's tip: knead the steamed dough while it is still hot, wrapped in a damp cloth, until it turns satiny.

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Boiled water caltrops (zhu lingjiao)Boiled water chestnuts in shell

Boiled water caltrops are a Mid-Autumn snack in Jiangnan and Guangdong, piled on the table beside mooncakes and pomelo while the family waits for the moon. The dark, two-horned nuts are harvested in autumn, and their name, ling, sounds like the word for clever, so children are told to eat them to grow bright; some families also say the shape looks like a bat, a symbol of good fortune. Inside the shell the white flesh is floury and sweet, much like a chestnut. Serve them warm in a big bowl with tea and the rest of the moon-watching snacks. Chef's tip: buy them fresh in autumn from Chinese grocers and always cook them through; never eat water caltrops raw, as they grow in ponds and can carry parasites.

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Yeot-gangjeong (nut and sesame bars in rice syrup)

Yeot-gangjeong is a traditional Korean hangwa made all over the country, especially in the weeks before Seollal and Chuseok, when trays of these bars are given as gifts and set out for visitors. Toasted nuts, sesame seeds and puffed rice are folded into hot rice syrup, pressed flat and cut into bars that are crunchy, nutty and only gently sweet, with a faint malty flavour from the syrup. Serve them with green tea or sikhye, the sweet rice drink, or pack them for a lunchbox. They are naturally egg-free: rice syrup, heated until it bubbles, acts as the glue and sets firm as it cools. Chef's tip: cut the slab while it is still warm. The common mistake is waiting until it is cold, when the bars shatter instead of slicing cleanly.

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Cotignac d'Orléans (clear quince jelly)

Orléans has made cotignac since the Middle Ages and offered it to visiting kings, and the town still sells it in small round wooden boxes, to be eaten by scraping the jelly out with the edge of the lid. It is a winter sweet, made when the autumn quinces come in and given at Christmas and New Year. The jelly is clear and ruby-red, firm enough to cut but tender on the tongue, with a scented, slightly tart quince flavour. Serve it after dinner with coffee, or with a mild cheese. Nothing but fruit and sugar sets it, so it is naturally egg-free: quinces are among the richest fruits in pectin, and boiling their juice with sugar to the setting point is all it takes. Small ramekins or silicone moulds lined with baking paper stand in for the wooden boxes. Chef's tip: let the cooked quince drip through the cloth without pressing; the common mistake is squeezing it, which clouds the jelly.

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MoczkaGingerbread in dried fruit compote

Moczka is the Christmas Eve dessert of Upper Silesia in southern Poland, a thick, dark, spiced mixture of honey gingerbread dissolved in dried-fruit compote, then loaded with almonds, walnuts, raisins, figs and prunes. Each family has its own version; many add dark beer to the base, which this one leaves out, but adults may stir 100 ml dark beer into the compote while it simmers. It is eaten cold from small bowls and keeps for several days. Chef's tip: use dry, slightly stale gingerbread, which dissolves into a smooth sauce, while fresh cake turns to lumps.

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Grillázs (Hungarian walnut brittle)

Grillázs belongs to Hungarian celebrations: it is sold at Christmas fairs and on saints' day markets, and at village weddings a towering grillázs castle or basket is often the centrepiece, broken up and shared at the end of the night. Walnuts are traditional, almonds are the fancier choice. The caramel is cooked to a deep amber, so it tastes rich and slightly bitter-sweet and shatters cleanly, with the toasted nuts giving a softer crunch. Serve shards with coffee, crumble it over ice cream, or press warm sheets over an oiled bowl to make a basket for fruit or sweets. It is naturally egg-free: melted, caramelised sugar sets glass-hard as it cools and holds the nuts together, with a few drops of lemon juice to keep it smooth. Chef's tip: warm the walnuts in the oven before they go in; the common mistake is adding cold nuts, which chill the caramel so it seizes and turns grainy before you can spread it.

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Konpeito (Japanese sugar stars)

Konpeito came to Japan with Portuguese traders in the sixteenth century and became a treasured gift; Kyoto confectioners still make them the old way, rolling them in a tilted, heated pan for two weeks or more. Today the tiny pastel stars are given as wedding and birth favours, slipped into tins of emergency hardtack biscuits, and nibbled with green tea. They crunch like a sugar cube and taste purely of sugar, sometimes with a hint of fruit. This home version uses a wok over the lowest heat and a few patient hours, which gives smaller, knobbly stars rather than the perfect shop ones. They are naturally egg-free: they are made of nothing but sugar, and the setting comes from thin layers of syrup crystallising one after another. Chef's tip: add the syrup a teaspoon at a time and keep the crystals rolling until dry. The common mistake is pouring in too much, which glues everything into one clump.

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Kuri gohan (chestnut rice)

Kuri gohan is one of the great dishes of the Japanese autumn, made all over the country when fresh chestnuts arrive in September, and it is often eaten around the harvest moon, when chestnuts are offered beside dumplings and taro (the later moon-viewing in October is even nicknamed the "chestnut moon"). Sweet, fluffy chunks of chestnut sit in salty, slightly sticky rice scented with kombu, and the dish is all about the season's bounty. It traditionally uses a spoonful of sake; this is optional, and plain water works perfectly well for an alcohol-free version. Serve with miso soup, pickles and grilled fish, sprinkled with black sesame salt. Chef's tip: soak the chestnuts in hot water for 30 minutes before peeling; the shells soften and the furry inner skin lifts away far more easily.

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Chitose ame (thousand-year candy)

Chitose ame, "thousand-year candy", are the long red and white sugar sticks that children carry home from the shrine at Shichi-Go-San in November, in Tokyo and now right across Japan. The length of the stick is a wish for a long life, and red and white are the colours of celebration. Pulling the cooling sugar fills it with air, turning it from clear to a silky, opaque white with a soft, almost milky crunch. Boiling sugar reaches more than 150 °C, so wear heatproof gloves, work on a heatproof silicone mat, and keep children well away until the candy has cooled; they can admire the finished sticks. Hard sweets are a choking risk for small children, so break off small pieces for them and stay with them while they eat. Chef's tip: oil your gloves lightly and keep pulling until the candy turns satiny and starts to resist; that is when it sets into sticks.

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Mebos (Karoo salted apricot sweets)

Mebos belongs to the dry Karoo and the orchards of the Western Cape, where summer apricots were salted, sun-dried and pounded into a paste that lasted the year. Today it is a car-trip and school-holiday treat, bought from farm stalls and passed around with afternoon tea. The flavour is bright and tart, then sweet, with a little salt that makes the apricot taste even stronger; the texture is dense and chewy, like a soft fruit leather. Eat it on its own, with a cup of rooibos, or chopped over plain yoghurt. This version starts from dried apricots, so it can be made at any time of year. It is naturally egg-free: the apricots' own pectin and fibre, thickened with sugar in the pan, hold the paste together with no other binder. Chef's tip: measure the salt; the common mistake is adding it by feel, which turns a sweet-sour sweet into a salty one.

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Berlingots de Carpentras (striped Provençal hard candies)

Carpentras, the market town below Mont Ventoux, has made berlingots since the nineteenth century, using the fruit syrups left over from its candied-fruit trade. The little four-sided pyramids are clear and glassy with fine white stripes, and they are sold year round at the Friday market and in paper cones for the Christmas sweet table. They crunch cleanly and dissolve slowly, here with a cool mint flavour; a fruit syrup can take its place. Offer them after a meal with coffee or herbal tea. Hard candy is naturally egg-free: the sugar, cooked to the hard-crack stage, sets glass-hard by itself, and glucose syrup keeps it clear instead of grainy. You will need heatproof gloves, oiled scissors and a warm place to keep the sugar soft while you shape it. Chef's tip: make these on a dry day; the common mistake is cooking sugar in a steamy kitchen, which leaves the berlingots sticky within hours.

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Rakugan (pressed dry sweets for tea)

Rakugan are higashi, the dry sweets served before thin matcha at a tea ceremony, and the castle towns of Kanazawa and Matsue, both with a long tea tradition, are famous for them. Fine sugar and roasted rice flour are pressed into carved wooden moulds to make cherry blossoms in spring, maple leaves in autumn and plum flowers in winter; they also appear on Obon altars as offerings. They feel firm in the hand but dissolve on the tongue into a delicate, clean sweetness, which balances the bitterness of the tea. Serve two or three per person with matcha or sencha. They are naturally egg-free: a few drops of water make the fine sugar just damp enough to stick, the roasted rice flour holds the shape, and drying sets it hard. Chef's tip: add water a few drops at a time and stop when the sugar feels like damp sand; the common mistake is too much water, which glues the mixture into the mould.

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Shanzha gao (hawthorn fruit cake)

When the hawthorn trees of Hebei and Shandong drop their red berries in late autumn, cooks across northern China, and especially in Beijing, boil them down into shanzha gao, a firm fruit cake cut into ruby slices. It is a winter sweet, eaten after rich meals because people say it helps digestion, and it sits beside candied hawthorn skewers at the New Year fairs. The texture is like a firm fruit jelly that cuts cleanly, and the flavour is bright and sour-sweet, like a cross between crab apple and cranberry. Serve thin slices with jasmine tea, or cubes on a fruit plate. It is naturally egg-free and needs no setting agent at all: hawthorn is so rich in pectin that the cooked purée sets firm as it cools. Chef's tip: the common mistake is stopping too soon, so keep stirring until a spoon drawn across the pan leaves a clear trail that does not close up.

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Gotgam-ssam (walnut-stuffed dried persimmon rounds)

Sangju in North Gyeongsang is Korea's dried-persimmon capital, and in Andong and across the region gotgam-ssam is a sweet for Seollal and Chuseok tables and for welcoming guests in winter. Soft dried persimmons are opened out flat, rolled tightly around a row of walnut halves and sliced, so each round shows a pattern like a flower. They are chewy and honeyed from the fruit, with crunchy, slightly bitter walnuts in the middle. Serve them with sujeonggwa, the cinnamon-ginger punch, or with a cup of roasted barley tea. It is naturally egg-free: the sticky dried fruit is its own glue, and a short chill firms the roll so it slices neatly. Chef's tip: wrap the roll tightly in cling film and chill it before slicing; the common mistake is slicing it straight away, which squashes the rounds and lets the walnuts fall out.

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Śliwki w czekoladzie (chocolate-coated prunes with walnuts)

Boxes of chocolate prunes are a classic Polish gift: brought to grandmothers at Christmas, set out on the Wigilia table among the twelve dishes, and passed round on name days. Plump smoked or soft prunes from the south of the country are best. Each one hides a walnut half, so you get chewy, slightly tart fruit, a crunchy bitter nut and a snap of dark chocolate in one bite. Serve them with coffee or tea after a big meal. Nothing here ever needed egg: the prune itself holds the nut, and chocolate sets around it as it cools. Older recipes soak the prunes in spirits; here they are alcohol-free, plumped in warm orange juice instead, which also brightens the flavour. Use a dark chocolate made without milk and the sweets are vegan. Chef's tip: dry the soaked prunes very well before dipping; the common mistake is leaving them damp, and even a few drops of juice will make melted chocolate seize and turn grainy.

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Ruyi cai (soybean sprout stir-fry)

A curled soybean sprout, with its fat yellow head and long tail, looks just like the ruyi sceptre whose name means 'as you wish', so in Shanghai and the Jiangnan region no Spring Festival table is complete without a dish of ruyi cai. It is the gentle, crunchy counterweight to the braised pork and fish of the reunion dinner: nutty sprouts, chewy strips of tofu skin and meaty shiitake in a light soy glaze. Many families cook a big batch on New Year's Eve and eat it cold for days. Serve it with rice, alongside red-braised dishes or as part of a vegetarian New Year spread. Chef's tip: cook the sprouts until the beany raw taste is gone; undercooked soybean sprouts taste grassy and are hard to digest.

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Malban (Egyptian rose and nut jelly sweets)

Malban is the Egyptian cousin of Turkish delight, sold by weight in Cairo sweet shops all year but piled highest for Ramadan nights and the Mawlid sweets of the Prophet's birthday. A syrup of sugar and lemon is cooked with cornflour for the best part of an hour into a thick, clear jelly, scented with rose water and a little mastic and studded with pistachios or hazelnuts. Cut into cubes and rolled in icing sugar, it is soft, springy and chewy, sweet and floral. Serve it with mint tea or Turkish-style coffee. It is naturally egg-free: cornflour, cooked slowly in the syrup, sets it into a firm jelly, with no other setting agent. Chef's tip: whisk the cornflour mixture into the syrup in a thin stream and keep stirring. The common mistake is stopping too early, which gives a soft jelly that weeps and won't hold a cube.

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CalcionettiFried ravioli with chickpea and chocolate

In Abruzzo, calcionetti (caggionetti in dialect) are fried on Christmas Eve and handed round all through the holidays. The thin pastry is wrapped around a sweet filling of chickpea or chestnut purée with cocoa, honey, toasted almonds and orange zest, then fried until bubbly and dusted with sugar. Many Abruzzese families add a little rum or the local Centerbe liqueur to the filling; this version uses orange juice so children can eat them, and adults may add 1 tbsp rum. Chef's tip: seal each one firmly by pressing out all the air, as trapped air makes them burst in the hot oil.

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Bánh tổ (Hội An New Year cake)

In Hội An and the rest of Quảng Nam, families steam bánh tổ for Tết and place it on the ancestors' altar; its name echoes 'tổ', the ancestors, and its slow-cooked sweetness is a wish for a smooth, sweet year. The cake is like a darker, ginger-scented cousin of Chinese nian gao: dense, chewy and glossy, with toasted sesame on top. Eat it in thin slices at room temperature, or fry slices until crisp outside and molten within, and serve with tea or sandwiched in rice crackers as locals do. Chef's tip: keep the water at a steady simmer and top it up with boiling water; a steamer that boils dry is the only real way to ruin this cake.

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Poolaki (Isfahan saffron sugar discs)Saffron caramel discs

Poolaki are the glassy, coin-thin sugar discs of Isfahan, sold in tins in the bazaar near Naqsh-e Jahan square and served with tea in Iranian homes, especially at Nowruz and when guests drop by. Instead of stirring sugar into the glass, you hold a disc on your tongue and sip strong black tea through it. They snap cleanly, then melt into a light caramel scented with saffron, sometimes with cardamom or a scatter of pistachio. They are naturally egg-free: sugar syrup cooked to the hard-crack stage sets as clear as glass the moment it is spread thin, and a little vinegar stops it from turning grainy. Chef's tip: do not stir once the syrup boils; swirl the pan instead and wash down the sides with a wet pastry brush. The common mistake is stirring, which makes the syrup crystallise and turn cloudy.

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Trinidad ginger beer

In Trinidad and Tobago, Christmas would not be complete without jugs of homemade ginger beer and sorrel in the fridge, ready for every visitor who drops by between Christmas Eve and Old Year's Night. Fresh ginger is grated, steeped with lime, cloves and sugar for about a day, then strained and served over ice. Made this way it is not fermented, so it has no alcohol and children can drink it. It is spicy and refreshing. Chef's tip: grate the ginger with its skin on (just scrub it), as much of the heat is just under the skin.

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Mont let saung (Burmese sago in coconut milk and jaggery)

During Thingyan, the Burmese water festival that ends the old year in mid-April, stalls across Myanmar hand out free food and cold drinks as a way of making merit, and mont let saung is one of the best loved. Chewy, glassy sago pearls (or short white rice-flour threads in some towns) sit on crushed ice, soaked in dark jaggery syrup and lightly salted coconut milk, with toasted sesame on top. It is cool, sweet and gently smoky from the jaggery, exactly what you want after a day of being splashed with water. Serve it in glasses or bowls as soon as it is assembled. Chef's tip: a pinch of salt in the coconut milk is what makes the jaggery taste rounder, so don't skip it.

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Sanzi (fried dough threads)

Sanzi are lacy coils of fried dough threads, made across Jiangsu and Shandong and by Hui and Uyghur cooks in Xinjiang. They belong to Hanshi, Cold Food Day, just before Qingming, when old custom forbade lighting the stove, so families fried them in advance to eat cold; the shatteringly crisp coils keep well for days and stand for the care taken to prepare for the remembrance. The dough is lightly salted and the strands snap like thin crackers, with a nutty note from sesame. Break them over congee or soy milk, or eat them on their own with tea. Chef's tip: rest the oiled ropes properly; relaxed dough stretches to thread-thin without snapping.

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Qiaoguo (Qixi fried pastries)Sesame sugar fried dough knots

Qiaoguo, 'skill fruits', are fried for Qixi on the seventh night of the seventh lunar month in Zhejiang and Jiangsu. The festival celebrates the Weaver Girl and the Cowherd, the star-crossed lovers who meet once a year, and girls once set out these pastries and asked the Weaver Girl to make them clever with their hands; the neat twists and cut-out shapes show off that skill. They are crunchy, lightly sweet and toasty with sesame, like a delicate biscuit. Serve a plate under the evening sky with tea, melon and fruit. Chef's tip: roll the dough thin, about 2 mm; thicker pieces stay hard in the middle instead of crisp.

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SchlorzifladenDried pear tart

Schlorzifladen comes from the Toggenburg valley in the canton of St Gallen in eastern Switzerland, where dried pears (schlorzi) were a winter staple. The thin, crisp tart is filled with a thick, dark purée of cooked dried pears spiced with cinnamon, and baked for Christmas and village feast days. Some versions have a rice or cream layer on top; this is the simple pear one. Pear brandy is sometimes added, but this version uses lemon juice instead and is alcohol-free. Chef's tip: cook the pear purée until it is stiff enough to hold a spoon upright, or it soaks the pastry.

120 minSwissBaking
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Mứt sen (candied lotus seeds)

No Tết candy tray in Hanoi or Huế looks complete without a mound of mứt sen, the ivory lotus seeds that stand for purity and, because a lotus pod holds so many seeds, for a family blessed with many descendants. Done well, each seed is soft and floury inside, almost like chestnut, under a dry, sparkling shell of sugar. Guests nibble them with a pot of hot green or lotus tea while they swap New Year wishes. Fresh seeds are best; dried ones from Asian grocers work if soaked overnight first. Chef's tip: pull out every green germ in the centre, because a single bitter heart spoils the sweet mouthful.

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Kẹo cu đơ (Hà Tĩnh peanut and ginger candy)

Kẹo cu đơ belongs to Hà Tĩnh province in north-central Vietnam, where it is chewed slowly with a cup of strong green tea, especially on cold mornings and during Tết visits. Roasted peanuts are folded into a dark, sticky toffee of sugarcane molasses and malt syrup, sharpened with fresh ginger, and the hot mass is sandwiched between two crisp, toasted sesame rice papers. Every bite gives a crackle of rice paper, then a chewy, slightly smoky sweetness and a warm ginger finish. Cut it into wedges and serve it with tea rather than as a pudding. It is naturally egg-free: the molasses and malt syrup are cooked to the hard-ball stage, which is what sets the candy and binds the nuts. Chef's tip: toast the rice papers until they are completely puffed and blistered; the common mistake is under-toasting them, which leaves them leathery once the hot toffee goes on.

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Kẹo mè xửng (Huế sesame peanut chews)

No one leaves the old imperial city of Huế without a box of kẹo mè xửng, the soft sesame chew sold on Đông Ba market stalls and handed out at Tết and on family visits. Rice malt syrup and sugar are cooked with a little tapioca starch into a glossy, stretchy mass, chopped peanuts are folded in, and the slab is pressed between layers of toasted sesame. It chews like a soft toffee, nutty and gently sweet, and the sesame gives every square a roasted fragrance. Serve squares with hot lotus or green tea after dinner. The candy is naturally egg-free: tapioca starch gives it its springy chew and the malt syrup binds it, so nothing else is needed. Chef's tip: oil your knife and cut while the slab is just warm. The common mistake is adding the starch slurry without stirring hard, which leaves white lumps through the candy.

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Dong li (Dongbei frozen pears)

In Dongbei, China's far north-east, winter temperatures fall so low that pears left outside freeze rock hard and turn glossy black, and a bowl of dong li thawing in cold water is part of every Spring Festival. They are eaten after the rich New Year's Eve dumplings and meats: cold, very sweet and full of juice, said to soothe a throat dry from heated rooms and to bring a clear, fresh start to the year. Freezing breaks down the flesh so it becomes soft and almost slushy, with a flavour like pear sorbet. You can recreate them in a home freezer; serve them as they are in small bowls, with spoons and napkins. Chef's tip: thaw them in cold water, never warm; the cold water pulls the frost out slowly and leaves an ice shell that cracks away cleanly.

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Podsolnechnaya khalva (sunflower seed halva)

In Russia and Ukraine, where sunflowers cover the southern steppe, halva means sunflower halva rather than the sesame kind: grey-brown, crumbly slabs sold by weight at markets and eaten with tea at any time of day, especially through the long winter. It tastes deeply of toasted seeds, with a sandy, flaky texture that breaks into strands and melts on the tongue. Serve it in small pieces with black tea, crumble it over porridge, or eat it with fresh apple slices. Factory halva is lightened with a foam of soapwort root, and some old recipes use whipped egg white; this home version needs neither. Sugar syrup cooked to the firm-ball stage is beaten straight into warm, finely ground seeds, and as the syrup cools it crystallises and binds the oily seed paste into a sliceable block, naturally egg-free. Chef's tip: grind the seeds until they just start to clump and look oily, not into smooth butter; the common mistake is over-grinding, which gives a dense, fudgy slab instead of crumbly halva.

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Arrowhead chips (nga gu chips)

Arrowhead (nga gu, or ngaku) is a small aquatic tuber that only shows up in Malaysian markets in the weeks before Chinese New Year, and frying it into chips is a family job. Its curved sprout looks like a shoot rising from the root, so it stands for growth and many descendants in the year ahead. Sliced thin and fried, the chips are crisp and nutty like potato crisps, with a gentle bitterness that keeps you reaching for more. Put them out in jars with peanuts and love letters for visitors. Chef's tip: soak the slices and dry them very well; wet slices make the oil spit and fry up chewy instead of crisp.

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Polkagris (Gränna peppermint candy sticks)

Gränna, a small town on the shore of Lake Vättern, has been pulling polkagris since the 1850s, and visitors still stand at shop windows watching the sugar being stretched and twisted on marble tables. The sticks are sold all year but are a favourite in summer, when the town fills with tourists, and again at Christmas. Pulled properly, the white part turns satiny and slightly airy, so the candy is crisp on the outside and almost chalky-soft as it melts, with a clean, cooling peppermint flavour and a thin red spiral. Eat them as they are, crush them over ice cream or hang them on the tree. Polkagris is naturally egg-free: nothing but sugar boiled to the hard-crack stage holds it together, and the pulling, not any added protein, gives the pale, opaque texture. Chef's tip: work in a dry kitchen with oiled gloves and have every tool ready before the sugar reaches temperature; the common mistake is letting the mass cool too far before pulling, at which point it cracks instead of stretching.

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Krówki (Polish milk fudge)

Krówki, 'little cows', are the sweets Polish children grow up with: wrapped in paper with a cow on it, handed out at name days and school parties, and bought by the bag all year round. Fresh ones have a thin, sugary crust that crumbles at the edges while the middle stays soft and almost runny, with a deep taste of cooked milk and butter, close to dulce de leche. Eat them with black tea or coffee, or chop them into ice cream. They are naturally egg-free: milk and cream are boiled with sugar until the milk solids caramelise and the mixture reaches the soft-ball stage, then beating it as it cools starts fine sugar crystals that set the fudge and give that crumbly crust. A spoonful of honey adds its own flavour and keeps the centre soft. Chef's tip: stop beating as soon as the mixture loses its shine and starts to thicken; beating too long is the common mistake, and the fudge then sets in the pan before you can pour it.

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Croccante (southern Italian almond brittle)

Croccante is the sweet of southern Italian feast days: from Naples to Calabria and Apulia it is sold from stalls at the patron saint's festa, set out at Christmas and at Carnival, and in some towns shaped into little baskets for weddings. Whole almonds are toasted and folded into caramel, then pressed thin on marble with the cut side of a lemon, which stops it sticking and leaves a faint citrus scent. It is crisp and glassy with a deep, nutty, slightly bitter caramel. Break it into shards to eat with coffee, or crush it over ice cream. It is naturally egg-free: only caramelised sugar holds the almonds, setting hard as glass as it cools. Chef's tip: keep the almonds warm when they go in; the common mistake is adding cold nuts, which makes the caramel seize into lumps.

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Hong tang ciba (brown sugar glutinous rice cakes)

Pounded glutinous rice cakes are a Spring Festival essential in Sichuan and Chongqing, where 'ci' sounds like a wish for the family to stay close, as stuck together as the rice itself. Fried and drowned in brown sugar syrup, they turn into hong tang ciba, a dessert that closes many reunion dinners and hotpot nights. Outside they are puffed and crackly, inside soft and stretchy, and the dark syrup and nutty soybean flour make every bite taste like toffee. This home version steams a glutinous rice flour dough instead of pounding whole grains, which gives the same chew in far less time. Serve straight from the pan while still crisp. Chef's tip: let the steamed slab cool and firm up completely before cutting; warm dough smears and bursts in the oil.

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Cupeta (Salento honey and almond brittle)

Summer in Salento, the heel of Apulia, means the feste patronali, when village streets are hung with lights and the cupetari set up stalls of cupeta, a honey and almond brittle broken from large slabs. It also shows up on Christmas tables and at the feast of Saint Oronzo in Lecce in August. Honey gives it a darker, more floral caramel than plain croccante, and the almonds stay crunchy within a brittle that slowly turns slightly chewy in the heat. Traditionally it was poured onto wafer sheets or fresh bay or lemon leaves; this version uses bay leaves, which add a faint herbal note and keep it gluten-free. Eat it in pieces with coffee, or as a snack while walking through the fair. It is naturally egg-free: honey and sugar, cooked to the hard-crack stage, set around the nuts with no other binder. Chef's tip: lower the heat once the honey starts to colour; it burns much faster than sugar, and scorching is the common mistake.

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Kluay tak (Thai dried bananas, oven method)

In Bang Krathum, a district of Phitsanulok in lower northern Thailand, small nam wa bananas are peeled and laid out under the sun in glass-roofed drying boxes for several days, then pressed flat to make kluay tak. The district is famous for them, and bags are bought as a gift on the road home and nibbled with tea or coffee in the afternoon. They are dense and chewy like a soft toffee, dark amber, with a deep caramel and honey flavour that comes only from the fruit. As sun-drying takes days and needs steady heat, this version uses a very low oven overnight, then a rest in a jar so the moisture evens out. They are naturally egg-free and need nothing to bind them: the banana's own sugars concentrate and hold it together. Chef's tip: keep the oven low and prop the door open with a wooden spoon; the common mistake is a hot oven, which cooks and blackens the outside while the centre stays wet.

1340 minThaiDessertsVeganGluten free
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Mứt bí (candied winter melon)

Pale as rice paper and crunchy at the edge, mứt bí is one of the cheapest and best-loved sweets on the Tết candy tray all over Vietnam; its white colour stands for a clean, bright start to the year. The melon is first firmed in clear lime water made with food-grade slaked lime (vôi ăn, calcium hydroxide, sold for pickling), which sets the outside so the batons stay crisp while the sugar soaks in. If you would rather not use lime, a quick blanch and longer drying gives a softer but still delicious result. Serve with green tea, or with candied ginger and coconut. Chef's tip: choose an old, heavy winter melon with a dusty white skin; young ones are watery and collapse in the syrup.

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Sucre à la crèmeBrown sugar fudge

In Quebec, sucre à la crème is the sweet that comes out at Christmas: a soft, melting brown-sugar fudge made from brown sugar, cream and butter, cut into squares and shared at the réveillon after midnight Mass and through the Fêtes. Every grandmother's recipe differs a little; this one is the classic stovetop method, gluten free and ready in under an hour. Chef's tip: beat the cooled mixture until it loses its gloss and starts to thicken, then pour it at once; that beating is what makes it creamy rather than toffee-like.

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Dulce de papayuelaMountain papaya in spiced syrup

Papayuela is the small, fragrant mountain papaya that grows in the cool highlands of Boyacá in Colombia. Cooked slowly in panela syrup with cloves and cinnamon, it becomes a glossy, amber dulce that Boyacá families set out during Holy Week and again at Christmas, often with a slice of fresh white cheese or cuajada. It is vegan and gluten free. Firm, slightly underripe ordinary papaya, or babaco, makes a good stand-in. Chef's tip: blanch the fruit briefly first, then drain it; this removes the bitter latex and lets it soak up the syrup.

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Dasik (Korean pressed tea cakes)

Dasik are small pressed tea cakes stamped with patterns of flowers, characters for long life and good fortune, made across Korea for Chuseok, weddings and the tables set for ancestral rites. Powders of roasted grain, black sesame or yellow pine pollen are kneaded with honey and pressed into carved wooden moulds, so a single plate shows contrasting colours. They are dense and melt slowly, tasting of toasted nuts and honey, and they are always served with tea: green tea, or a tea of jujube or citron. This version makes two colours, roasted soybean and black sesame. They are naturally egg-free: honey binds the powders and lets them hold the fine pattern of the mould. Chef's tip: add the honey a teaspoon at a time; the common mistake is too much, which makes a sticky dough that blurs the pattern and won't leave the mould.

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Tang gua (malt sugar candy)

On Xiaonian, the 'little New Year' a week before the Spring Festival, families across northern China offer tang gua to the Kitchen God before he flies up to report on the household: the sticky sweets are meant to glue his mouth shut, or at least sweeten his words. The name means 'sugar melons', after their round, ribbed shape. Pulling the hot maltose over and over turns it from amber glass to a pale, airy candy that shatters and then turns chewy, with a toasty malt flavour and plenty of sesame. Serve them with tea on Xiaonian and keep the rest in a tin for New Year guests. Chef's tip: wear clean rubber or silicone gloves and work on an oiled tray; hot sugar sticks to skin and burns.

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