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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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Tmar mehchi (Moroccan almond-stuffed dates)

Tmar mehchi is the stuffed date of Fez and Marrakech, piled high on silver trays at weddings, engagements and Eid, and offered to guests with mint tea. Soft dates are filled with a homemade almond paste perfumed with orange-blossom water, often tinted pale green or pink to match the celebration, then scored with a knife so the filling shows. They are soft, rich and caramel-sweet, with a floral, nutty middle. The paste here is mixed from ground almonds and icing sugar, so there is no shop marzipan, which can contain egg white. It is naturally egg-free: the dates' sticky flesh and a few spoonfuls of orange-blossom water bind the almond filling. Chef's tip: add the orange-blossom water a little at a time and stop when the paste is firm like play dough. The common mistake is a wet paste, which oozes out and makes the dates slippery.

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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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Nanohana karashi-ae (rapeseed blossoms with mustard)

Nanohana, the budding shoots of the rapeseed plant, arrive in Japanese shops at the end of winter, and their little yellow-green flower heads are a sign that spring has come. That makes them a natural side dish for Hinamatsuri on 3 March, next to chirashizushi and clam soup. The greens are blanched just until tender, then dressed with Japanese karashi mustard loosened with soy sauce and kombu dashi: pleasantly bitter, nose-tinglingly hot and very fresh. Outside Japan, tenderstem broccoli or cime di rapa works almost as well. Chef's tip: dress the greens at the last minute, because the soy starts to dull the green colour within half an hour.

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Pâte de coingsQuince paste

On Christmas Eve in Provence the gros souper ends with the treize desserts, thirteen small sweets set out together and left on the table until 27 December. Pâte de coings, a firm, glowing amber quince paste cut into squares and rolled in sugar, is nearly always among them, beside nougat, dried fruit and fougasse. It is simply quince pulp and sugar cooked down slowly until it pulls away from the pan, so it is vegan and gluten free, and it keeps for months. Serve it in small cubes, or with a sharp cheese. Chef's tip: cook the quinces whole with their skins and cores, which hold most of the natural pectin, and only sieve them afterwards.

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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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Alfeñique (Toluca Day of the Dead sugar-paste figures)

Each October the arcades of Toluca, in the State of Mexico, fill with the Feria del Alfeñique: stalls of little skulls, lambs, coffins, baskets and fruit, all modelled from sugar paste and painted bright colours for the Day of the Dead altars of 1 and 2 November. Children buy a skull with their own name on it; families place them on the ofrenda beside marigolds, candles and pan de muerto. The paste is snow-white, smooth and brittle once dry, with a clean sugar and lime taste. The old Toluca paste is egg-free, kneaded with chautle, a gum from an orchid bulb; here gum tragacanth plays that part, making the paste stretchy enough to model and helping it dry hard. The decorating icing is egg-free too, made from icing sugar, lime juice and a pinch of the same gum. Chef's tip: work the syrup while it is warm and keep the paste wrapped; the common mistake is letting it sit uncovered, so it dries out and cracks as you shape it.

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Pustakari (Newari khuwa and jaggery toffee)

Pustakari is the toffee of the Newar community in the Kathmandu Valley, sold in small squares in the old bazaars of Asan and Bhaktapur and made at home for festivals such as Tihar and Yomari Punhi, and on winter afternoons. Jaggery is cooked to a syrup, then khuwa and ghee are stirred in and cooked until the mixture turns into a thick, glossy, deep brown mass that sets into a chewy toffee. It tastes of caramel and milk, a little like fudge but with more chew. Serve a few pieces with tea or as a small sweet after a meal. It is naturally egg-free: the jaggery syrup, cooked to the firm-ball stage, sets the khuwa, so no other binder is needed. Chef's tip: watch the temperature of the syrup; cooking it past 125°C is the common mistake that makes the toffee hard enough to hurt your teeth.

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Kẹo dừa (Bến Tre coconut candy)

Bến Tre, in the Mekong Delta, is coconut country, and its workshops turn out mountains of kẹo dừa, the chewy coconut candy that Vietnamese families put on the Tết tray and bring home as a souvenir from the south. Thick coconut milk is boiled with sugar and rice malt syrup until it becomes a soft, pale caramel that tastes of toasted coconut and a little salt. Each piece is cut into a small bar and wrapped in a sheet of paper-thin edible rice paper, which melts on the tongue. Offer them with green tea, or at the end of a family meal. The candy is naturally egg-free: the long boil reduces the coconut milk until its own fat and solids, with the malt syrup, set it to a chew. Chef's tip: use a wide heavy pan and stir right across the base without stopping; the common mistake is walking away, which scorches the coconut solids and leaves brown specks and a bitter edge.

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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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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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Azuki-gayu (red bean rice porridge)

On Koshōgatsu, the 'little New Year' of 15 January, households across Japan eat a bowl of azuki-gayu in the morning; the red of the adzuki beans has long been thought to drive away evil and illness for the year ahead. It is a plain, comforting dish: rice cooked slowly until the grains burst, stained soft pink by the bean cooking water, with the beans themselves floury and tender. It is lightly salted rather than sweet, as it is traditionally eaten. Serve with umeboshi, a sprinkle of sesame salt or a few toasted mochi pieces dropped in at the end. Chef's tip: throw away the first boiling water of the beans to lose their bitterness, but keep the second; that is where the pink colour comes from.

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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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Chè kho (mung bean fudge pudding)

On New Year's Eve and the last days of Tết, Hanoi families place a plate of chè kho on the ancestors' altar: a smooth, golden mung bean fudge whose sweetness asks for a gentle, prosperous year. 'Kho' means cooked down dry, and that is the whole technique, stirring the bean purée with sugar until it becomes a thick, glossy paste that can be cut. It tastes nutty and delicately floral from grapefruit-blossom water, with a crunch of sesame on top. Serve small slices with lotus or green tea. Chef's tip: use a heavy non-stick pan and a wooden spoon, and never leave it; the paste catches in seconds once it thickens.

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Isobeyaki (grilled mochi with soy and nori)

In the first days of the year, Japanese kitchens are full of mochi, the rice cakes pounded or bought for Shōgatsu, and isobeyaki is the easiest, most loved way to eat them. The name means 'grilled on the rocky shore', after the sea flavour of nori, and mochi itself stands for strength and long life because it stretches without breaking. Each cake puffs and blisters in the pan, then gets a lacquer of sweet soy and a crisp sheet of seaweed; the outside crackles while the inside turns stretchy and molten. Serve as a snack with green tea, or alongside a bowl of miso soup. Chef's tip: brush the soy on only once the mochi has puffed, or it will burn before the middle is soft.

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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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Kalamae (Thai coconut caramel sticky rice sweet)

Kalamae is the Songkran sweet of Central Thailand: in villages, neighbours take turns at a huge wok for hours, and the finished trays go to monks and elders at the New Year, the long shared stirring standing for a community pulling together and the sweetness for a sweet year ahead. Glutinous rice flour, coconut milk and palm sugar slowly turn from milky beige to a deep mahogany paste that is chewy, a little smoky and rich with coconut. Cut it into small squares and serve with jasmine tea, or wrap the pieces in banana leaf to give away. A home batch takes about two and a half hours at the stove, so put on some music and keep a wooden spoon moving. Chef's tip: use the widest heavy pan you own; more surface means faster thickening and less risk of scorching.

180 minThaiDessertsVeganGluten free
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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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Khao niao daeng (Thai red sticky rice)

Khao niao daeng, "red sticky rice", is made in Central Thailand in the days before Songkran and carried to the temple as an offering, its sticky grains a wish that family ties hold fast through the year. The rice is steamed first, then folded into a long-reduced coconut and palm sugar caramel until it turns a glossy red-brown and every grain is sweet, chewy and fragrant. Pressed into a tray, it slices neatly and keeps for a few days, so it is a good make-ahead sweet for a crowd. Serve squares with a sprinkle of toasted sesame and a cup of tea. Chef's tip: reduce the caramel until it is thick and bubbling slowly before the rice goes in, or the rice turns mushy instead of chewy.

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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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PaimeSteamed cornmeal and pumpkin parcels

Paime (or pime) is a Trinidad and Tobago Christmas sweet, a cousin of the Venezuelan hallaca brought by the parang tradition, when singers go from house to house at Christmas and are fed at every stop. Cornmeal, grated pumpkin and fresh coconut are mixed with sugar, butter, raisins and warm spices, wrapped in banana leaves and steamed until firm. Paime are eaten warm or cold, and keep for days in the fridge. Chef's tip: soften the banana leaves over a flame or in hot water first, so they fold without splitting.

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Omija hwachae (five-flavour berry punch)

Across Korea, Dano marks the start of the hot season, and a bowl of hwachae is the old way to cool down. Omija means 'five flavours': the dried schisandra berries are sour, sweet, salty, bitter and pungent at once, and steeping them gives a ruby-pink drink that is tart and bright, said to refresh the body against summer fatigue. Honey is the traditional sweetener; sugar syrup keeps this version vegan and entirely alcohol-free. Float thin pear flowers and a few pine nuts on top and serve it beside tteok or yakgwa. Chef's tip: steep the berries in cold water only, because hot water pulls out their bitterness and the colour turns murky.

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Num plae ai (Khmer palm sugar rice balls)

Num plae ai are a favourite Cambodian sweet for Khmer New Year in April, made to share with visiting family and offered at the pagoda, the hidden palm sugar inside standing for a sweet surprise in the year ahead. Small balls of glutinous rice dough are wrapped around a cube of palm sugar, boiled until they float and then rolled in fresh coconut with a pinch of salt. Bite in and the warm sugar bursts out like syrup against the soft, chewy dough. They are best eaten warm, within a few hours of making. Cut the balls in half for young children, as sticky rice dough can be hard to chew. Chef's tip: seal each ball carefully and roll it smooth between your palms, or the sugar leaks out into the water.

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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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Goan milk creamMilk and cashew sweet

Milk cream is a pale, fudgy Goan Christmas sweet, set in pretty little moulds of flowers, stars and Christmas trees and laid on the kuswar platter beside neureos, bebinca and kulkuls. Whole milk is cooked down with sugar and ground cashews (and sometimes semolina) until it turns into a smooth paste, a little like Indian peda but softer. It is gluten free and very rich, so pieces are small. Chef's tip: dust the moulds with sugar, not flour, so the sweets pop out cleanly with crisp detail.

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Pruneaux d'Agen fourrés (stuffed Agen prunes)

Agen, on the Garonne in south-west France, has dried its plums into prunes for centuries, and its confectioners stuff the best ones with a paste of more prunes and almonds. Boxes of pruneaux fourrés are a Christmas present across the south-west and a speciality of the town's prune festival at the end of August. Each one is glossy and plump, with a soft, sticky skin and a dense, mellow filling that tastes of fruit, almond and a little orange. Serve them with coffee or tea, or as part of a cheese plate. The filling is a kind of almond paste, held together by the sticky prune purée and sugar, so it is egg-free like the rest of the sweet; some versions add a little brandy, and orange juice takes its place here. Chef's tip: if the prunes are dry, steam them for 5 minutes first; the common mistake is forcing filling into stiff prunes, which split.

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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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Surichwi-tteok (Dano wheel rice cakes)

Dano, on the fifth day of the fifth lunar month, was once called surit-nal, and the green surichwi-tteok of Gangwon and the rest of Korea carries that name: the cakes are pounded with surichwi (Korean mountain aster) and pressed with a cartwheel stamp, since 'suri' was read as 'wheel', a wish for the year to roll on smoothly and for good health as summer heat sets in. The leaves give a grassy, faintly bitter scent and a deep green fleck, and the steamed rice is pounded until it turns chewy and bouncy. If you can't find surichwi, mugwort (ssuk) powder or dried mugwort works well; the flavour is a little more herbal and the cakes are just as traditional in spirit. Serve at room temperature with cold omija hwachae or barley tea. Chef's tip: pound the rice while it is still steaming hot; once it cools it tightens and will never go smooth.

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Jaja begina (Balinese sun-dried rice crackers)

Jaja begina are the round rice crackers that fill Balinese offering towers for Galungan; once the prayers are said, the crackers come home as a crunchy snack for everyone. Steamed glutinous rice is pressed into thin discs and dried in the sun for days until rock hard, and then a quick fry makes them puff up, turn pale gold and become light and crisp. A thread of warm palm sugar syrup over the top makes them sweet and sticky. Without strong sun, a low oven does the drying in an afternoon. Chef's tip: make a big batch of the dried discs; stored airtight they keep for months, and you can fry a few whenever you like.

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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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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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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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Amazake (sweet koji rice drink)

On New Year's Day, crowds queuing for hatsumōde, the first shrine visit of the year, warm their hands on cups of amazake, and shrines all over Japan ladle it out as a welcome. This is the koji kind: cooked rice is held warm with rice koji, whose enzymes turn the starch into sugar, so the drink is sweet with no added sugar and contains no alcohol (unlike the other amazake made from sake lees). It is thick, creamy and gently fragrant, a little like rice pudding you can drink. Serve it hot with a pinch of grated ginger, or chilled in summer. Chef's tip: a cheap probe thermometer is the whole secret; keep the mixture at 55–60 °C and it will turn sweet every time.

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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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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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VörtbrödDark Christmas rye bread

In Sweden the Christmas smörgåsbord (julbord) is never without vörtbröd, a dark, soft, slightly sticky rye loaf flavoured with wort, the sweet malty liquid brewers start beer from, plus dark syrup, orange peel, clove and ginger. It is sliced, buttered and eaten with the Christmas ham or with cheese. Many home bakers use dark beer, which contains alcohol; this recipe uses a non-alcoholic dark malt drink, which gives the same malty depth. It keeps for 4 days, and freezes well. Chef's tip: rye dough is sticky and never feels smooth like wheat; resist adding lots of extra flour or the loaf will be dry.

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Manjar blanco del ValleMilk and rice sweet

In the Valle del Cauca around Cali, Christmas means stirring manjar blanco: whole milk, sugar and a little ground rice cooked down for hours, traditionally in a big copper pan (paila) over a wood fire, until it turns into a thick, pale-caramel paste. It is served in totumo gourd bowls with buñuelos and natilla, or with a slice of fresh cheese. It is gluten free and keeps a week in the fridge. Chef's tip: soak and blend the rice to a fine paste first, which gives manjar blanco its smooth body without lumps.

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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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Sakurayu (salted cherry blossom tea)

Sakurayu is not really tea at all but salt-pickled cherry blossoms steeped in hot water, and it is served all over Japan at engagements, weddings and other happy occasions, as well as in the hanami season. Green tea is avoided at such moments because "muddying the tea" is a phrase for being evasive, while a blossom opening in a clear cup is a picture of a bright beginning. The drink is pale pink, gently salty and faintly scented of cherry and almond. The blossoms are bought ready-salted (sakura no shiozuke) from Japanese grocers. Serve it with small sweets such as sakura mochi or hanami dango. Chef's tip: use water just off the boil and pour it slowly down the side of the cup, so the petals open without tearing.

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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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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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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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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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Pâte de fruits (Auvergne apricot fruit jellies)

Clermont-Ferrand, the capital of the Auvergne, built a name for pâtes de fruits in the nineteenth century using apricots from the Limagne plain, and the jewel-bright squares remain a favourite in Christmas boxes and with coffee at the end of a meal. Good pâte de fruits tastes more of fruit than of sugar: dense, tender and clean-cutting, with a sparkle of sugar crust and a sharp edge of acid. Serve them on a plate of petits fours, or pack them as a gift. They are naturally egg-free: pectin, the fruit's own setting agent, does all the work once the purée is boiled with sugar to 106°C and the acid is added. Use yellow pectin for pâte de fruits if you can find it; it sets slowly enough to pour. Chef's tip: stir in the citric acid only off the heat, right before pouring; the common mistake is adding it early, so the jelly sets in the pan.

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Frutta martorana (Sicilian painted almond-paste fruit)

Palermo's pastry shops fill their windows with frutta martorana in late October, ready for All Souls' Day on 2 November, when Sicilian children wake to find sweets and toys said to be left by the family's dead. The name comes from the nuns of the Martorana convent, who were said to have decorated their bare orchard with almond-paste fruit. Each little fig, prickly pear or orange is so perfectly painted it looks real, and the paste inside is smooth, dense and very sweet, with a pure almond flavour. Serve a few with coffee or a glass of cold almond milk. The paste is egg-free almond paste, made the Sicilian way: ground almonds are stirred into sugar syrup boiled to the soft-ball stage, and the syrup binds them as it cools, unlike some shop marzipan, which is not always egg-free. Chef's tip: let the shapes dry before painting; the common mistake is painting damp paste, so the colours bleed.

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Kinukatsugi (steamed baby taro)

In Kyoto and the Kansai region the harvest moon is also called imo meigetsu, the "potato moon", and steamed baby taro are set out beside the moon-viewing dumplings as thanks for the new crop. The name kinukatsugi recalls the silk veils that court ladies once wore over their heads, because the brown skin is peeled halfway so the white taro peeps out beneath it. Squeeze the base and the soft, slippery, nutty flesh pops out, ready to dip in sesame salt. Serve as a snack with green tea or as a side to grilled fish. Taro must always be cooked through, and its raw skin can make hands itch, so wear gloves while you trim it. Chef's tip: cut a shallow ring round the middle of each taro before steaming, so the top half of the skin lifts off neatly.

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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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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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KvashaFermented rye and buckwheat porridge

Kvasha is an old dish of the Volyn and Podillia regions of western Ukraine, cooked for Sviat Vechir, the Holy Supper on Christmas Eve, where twelve meatless dishes are served. Rye and buckwheat flour are mixed with boiling water and left a day to ferment, then cooked into a thick, sweet-sour porridge with dried fruit and honey, rather like a warm fruit pudding. Some villages added malt. It is vegan apart from the honey, which you can swap for sugar. Chef's tip: let the mixture ferment somewhere warm until it tastes pleasantly sour; under-fermented kvasha tastes floury and flat.

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KokadCoconut, jaggery and semolina squares

Kokad is one of the sweets in the Goan Christmas kuswar, the tray of homemade sweets Catholic families swap with neighbours in the days around 25 December. Freshly grated coconut is cooked with jaggery, semolina and ghee until it pulls together into a dark, fudgy mass, then pressed into a tray, scored into diamonds and topped with cashews. It is chewy, caramel-sweet and fragrant with cardamom. Chef's tip: roast the semolina in ghee first, until it smells nutty, as raw semolina makes kokad pasty.

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Bánh in (pressed rice-flour cakes)

Bánh in, literally 'printed cakes', come from Huế and central Vietnam, where they are stacked on the Tết altar for the ancestors and later shared with guests; the moulds stamp flowers or the characters for luck and longevity into each cake. The dough is just toasted glutinous rice flour bound with fragrant syrup, so the cakes are crumbly-soft, melt in the mouth and taste nutty, with a smooth mung bean heart. Serve them with jasmine or artichoke tea. Any wooden or plastic mooncake mould of about 40 g works. Chef's tip: let the pressed cakes rest overnight in a closed tin; they firm up and the flavour of the toasted flour deepens.

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Imelletty perunalaatikkoSweet baked potato casserole

Imelletty perunalaatikko is the most traditional of the Finnish Christmas casseroles, made in the days before Christmas Eve. Mashed potato is mixed with a little flour and left warm for hours, so the potatoes' own enzymes turn starch into sugar ('imelletty' means sweetened), and then it is baked slowly until the top is a deep caramel brown. The result tastes gently sweet with no added sugar and is eaten with ham, herring or, on a vegetarian table, with mushroom salad and beetroot. Chef's tip: keep the mash at hand-warm (about 55 °C) while it sweetens; too hot and the enzymes die, too cool and nothing happens.

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Omani halwa (saffron and rose water halwa)

No Omani welcome is complete without a dish of halwa and a cup of cardamom coffee, and in Muscat and Nizwa it is stirred for hours in huge copper pots for Eid, weddings and every family gathering. Sugar is caramelised, then cooked with a cornflour slurry and ghee until it turns dark, glossy and set. It is wobbly and sticky like a very soft fruit jelly, rich with ghee, and fragrant with saffron, cardamom and rose water, with toasted nuts through it. Serve small spoonfuls in little bowls with qahwa, the lightly roasted cardamom coffee. It is naturally egg-free: the starch, cooked slowly with the sugar until it turns clear and thick, does all the setting. Chef's tip: keep stirring and add the ghee a little at a time. The common mistake is stopping, even for a minute, so the halwa catches and burns on the base.

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Bay ben (Pchum Ben sticky rice balls)

Bay ben are made across Cambodia for Pchum Ben, the fifteen-day festival of the ancestors: before dawn, families carry them to the pagoda and toss them onto the ground around the temple for hungry, wandering spirits who have no relatives to feed them, a gift of kindness and merit for the dead. At home the same rice balls are eaten as a snack. Sticky rice is steamed, folded with salted coconut milk, toasted sesame and fresh coconut, then rolled while warm, so each ball is soft, chewy, nutty and lightly salty-sweet. Serve them with fruit or a cup of tea. Chef's tip: roll with hands dipped in lightly salted water so the rice doesn't stick and the balls get a neat, shiny finish.

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Sekihan (red bean rice)

Sekihan, "red rice", is Japan's celebration dish, cooked nationwide for birthdays, weddings and especially Shichi-Go-San in November, when girls aged three and seven and boys aged five visit the shrine in their best clothes. Red has long been thought to drive away bad luck, so rice tinted with adzuki beans is a wish for the children's health and growth. Steamed glutinous rice gives a chewy, slightly springy texture and a nutty bean flavour, finished with black sesame salt. Some cooks sprinkle the rice with a spoonful of sake while it steams; this is optional, and the bean liquid alone gives an alcohol-free version. Serve it warm or at room temperature with tai no shioyaki and clear soup. Chef's tip: ladle the bean cooking liquid high in the air and pour it back several times; the contact with air deepens its red, and the rice turns a stronger pink.

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Crispelle calabresiFried potato dough fritters

On the afternoon of 8 December and again on Christmas Eve, Calabrian kitchens fill with the smell of crispelle frying: long strips of soft potato-and-flour yeast dough dropped into hot oil until they puff and turn golden. Many families stuff some with an anchovy, but these are the plain kind, eaten hot with salt, or rolled in sugar and honey for children, so they are vegan. They are best straight from the pan, while the outside crackles and the inside is still airy. Chef's tip: oil your hands, not flour them, when stretching the dough; flour falls into the fryer, burns and turns the oil bitter.

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Taler bora (Bengali palm-fruit fritters)

When the ripe palmyra palm fruits (tal) fall in the late monsoon, Bengal's kitchens fill with their heavy, almost fermented-fruit scent, and taler bora are made, above all for Janmashtami in August and September. The dark orange pulp is scraped from the fibrous seeds, mixed with rice flour, a little wheat flour, grated coconut and sugar, and dropped by the spoonful into hot oil. They puff into soft, spongy balls with a dark brown crust and a sweet, fruity, slightly smoky taste. Eat them warm or at room temperature with tea, or as part of a Janmashtami offering. They are naturally egg-free and vegan: the thick, fibrous palm pulp and the rice flour bind the batter, and a pinch of bicarbonate lightens it. Use fresh pulp when you find the fruit, or frozen palmyra pulp from a South Asian grocer. Chef's tip: fry at about 165°C; the sugar in the palm pulp burns easily, so oil that's too hot is the common mistake that blackens the outside while the centre stays raw.

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Lau ghontoBottle gourd with moong dal

Lau ghonto is a gentle summer dish from Dhaka and Kolkata kitchens, served in the first courses of a Bengali lunch with plain rice, when the bottle gourds are young and sweet. The gourd is grated, cooked down in its own juice with a handful of roasted moong dal, ginger and a little cumin until soft and almost creamy, and seasoned with a pinch of sugar. It is light, about 190 kcal a portion, and gives about 8 g of protein from the moong dal, so it is a vegetable side rather than a protein dish and is not tagged High protein. The most common mistake is adding water: bottle gourd releases plenty of its own, and extra water turns the ghonto into a soup. Chef's tip: choose a gourd that feels heavy, with pale, fuzzy skin you can dent with a fingernail; older gourds have hard seeds and turn bitter.

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RotmosMashed swede and carrot

Rotmos, literally 'root mash', is a Swedish winter staple, cooked from Skåne to Norrland when the cellars are full of swede, and served beside sausages or boiled pork at home dinners, and on Thursdays with pea soup. Swede gives the mash its golden colour and gently peppery sweetness, potato makes it smooth, and a little butter and allspice round it out. It is a vegetarian side with about 3 g of protein per portion; try it with fried halloumi or a bean stew. The common mistake is mashing it straight from the pan: watery roots give a sloppy mash, so steam-dry them first. Chef's tip: leave the mash a little coarse; Swedes like to see flecks of swede and carrot rather than a smooth purée.

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ไอติมกะทิ (Itim kathi, Thai coconut ice cream)

Itim kathi is the ice cream of Bangkok's pushcarts: a vendor lifts the lid of an insulated drum, scrapes up a scoop of snow-white coconut ice cream and piles it into a small cup over sticky rice, then adds whatever the customer points at, from roasted peanuts and sweet corn to chewy palm seeds. It is sold all afternoon in the hot months, outside schools and temples and in markets. Some vendors tuck the scoop into a soft bread roll; serve it in cups as here and it stays gluten free. It is naturally egg-free and dairy-free. Coconut milk carries the fat that makes it creamy, and a little cornflour cooked into it binds the water so crystals stay fine and the texture stays smooth without any custard, while a pinch of salt sharpens the coconut. Chef's tip: use full-fat coconut milk with no added water; the common mistake is using a light one, which freezes hard and icy.

300 minThaiDessertsVeganGluten free
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Es doger (Bandung pink coconut shaved ice)

Es doger began on the streets of Bandung in West Java, where carts painted with bright patterns still sell it through the afternoon heat. The base is coconut milk and milk, coloured pink with red syrup and frozen or blended with ice into a soft slush, then piled into glasses with whatever the vendor has: cassava, avocado, jackfruit, sticky rice, tapioca pearls, and a ribbon of condensed milk over the top. It is sweet, creamy and cool, more a drink you eat with a spoon. It is naturally egg-free: the coconut milk gives body, the condensed milk binds it into a creamy slush, and the fruit and starchy cassava fill it out. Street versions use fermented cassava, which is lightly alcoholic; this recipe uses plain steamed cassava with sugar instead. Chef's tip: blend the ice in short bursts; the common mistake is running the blender until the slush melts into a milky drink.

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Paal kozhukattai (rice dumplings in sweet coconut milk)

Paal kozhukattai is made in Tamil Nadu homes for Vinayaka Chaturthi and on rainy evenings when something warm and sweet is wanted. Tiny pearls of rice-flour dough are cooked in thin coconut milk until they float and turn glossy, then the pot is sweetened with jaggery and finished with thick coconut milk and cardamom. The dumplings are soft and chewy, the liquid creamy and caramel-coloured, and the whole thing is served warm in small bowls, or at room temperature as part of a festival offering. It is naturally egg-free and vegan: the rice flour, scalded with boiling water, holds the dumplings together, and its starch thickens the coconut milk as they cook. Chef's tip: once the thick coconut milk goes in, keep it below a boil; boiling it hard is the common mistake that splits the coconut milk and makes it oily.

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Malan tou with pressed tofuAster greens and pressed tofu salad

When the first malan tou shoots appear in Shanghai, Suzhou and Hangzhou markets in early spring, families make this little cold dish to start a meal: the tender aster leaves are blanched, chopped very fine and mixed with diced smoked pressed tofu, salt, a pinch of sugar and sesame oil. It tastes grassy, nutty and clean. Malan tou can be hard to find outside China; young spinach or shepherd's purse works well. As a side dish for four, each portion has about 120 kcal and roughly 9 g of protein, from the pressed tofu, so it is light rather than high in protein. The common mistake is leaving the greens wet, which dilutes the dressing; squeeze them hard. Chef's tip: press the mixture into a small bowl and turn it out onto the plate for the traditional neat mound.

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Kharvas (steamed milk-and-curd pudding, home method)

Kharvas is a festive treat in Maharashtra and Gujarat, traditionally made from the first milk a cow gives after calving, which sets into a wobbly pudding when steamed. That milk is hard to find in cities, so home cooks in Pune and Mumbai make a version with ordinary milk, curd and condensed milk, and that is the method here. It is steamed until it sets into a soft, sliceable square with a slightly springy texture, coloured with saffron and lightly sweetened with jaggery, with a hint of nutmeg. Families serve it at room temperature or cold as a teatime sweet, especially in the monsoon and around Ganesh Chaturthi. There is no egg: the curd and condensed milk proteins set on steaming the way colostrum does, and the condensed milk gives body and binds it. Chef's tip: whisk the mixture until completely smooth and strain it, because lumps of curd are the common mistake that leaves holes and a grainy set.

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Aamras (spiced mango pulp)

When Kesar mangoes reach Ahmedabad and Alphonsos reach Pune in April and May, aamras appears at almost every summer lunch in Gujarat and Maharashtra. It's simply ripe mango pulp, thick and silky, with a pinch of dry ginger to help digestion, a little cardamom and sometimes a spoon of sugar if the fruit isn't sweet enough. It's eaten as part of the meal rather than after it, scooped up with hot puris, alongside a potato sabzi and dal; in Maharashtra it's also served at Akshaya Tritiya and Gudi Padwa. Spoon it out chilled in bowls, or offer it to children by itself. It is naturally egg-free and vegan: the mango's own thick pulp gives all the body, so nothing needs to bind or set it. Chef's tip: use only soft, fragrant, fully ripe mangoes and press the pulp through a sieve if they are fibrous; under-ripe fruit is the common mistake that makes aamras sour and thin.

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Subak hwachae (Korean watermelon punch)

Subak hwachae is the cooling bowl Koreans set out on the hottest days of summer, especially around Boknal, the dog days of July and August, when families gather and eat from a hollowed-out watermelon shell. Balls of watermelon and other fruit float in chilled watermelon juice lightly sweetened and sharpened with lemon, with sparkling water for fizz and plenty of ice. It is refreshing, juicy and only gently sweet. Serve it straight away in small bowls with a spoon, after a barbecue or a spicy meal. This version is egg-free and dairy-free, and nothing needs binding or setting, as it is simply fruit in its own juice. Some modern versions add milk or a fizzy lemon soda; this one keeps it light with sugar syrup and sparkling water. Chef's tip: chill the fruit and juice for at least an hour before adding the fizz; the common mistake is relying on ice alone, which melts and waters the punch down.

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پشاوری آئس کریم (Peshawari ice cream)Cardamom pistachio ice cream

In the Qissa Khwani bazaar of Peshawar, ice-cream sellers spin a tall metal drum inside a tub of crushed ice and salt, scraping the freezing milk off the walls with a long paddle until it turns thick, stretchy and pale. It is a summer evening treat, eaten from small bowls after dinner or late at night when the streets cool down, and often topped with a spoonful of falooda vermicelli or more chopped pistachio. The flavour is simple: slowly reduced milk, green cardamom and a little rose. This version has no eggs and no custard: a cornflour slurry cooked into the milk thickens it the way yolks would, and the starch holds on to water so ice crystals stay small and the texture stays smooth, while milk powder adds body without extra fat. You can churn it in a machine or still-freeze it in a tray and stir it every 45 minutes. Chef's tip: the common mistake is churning a warm base; chill it until it is fridge-cold right through, or it will turn icy instead of silky.

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Kem xôi (Hanoi coconut ice cream on sticky rice)

In the Old Quarter of Hanoi, kem xôi shops on Hàng Bài and around Hoàn Kiếm lake serve it from late morning to late at night through the hot season: a bed of warm, salty sticky rice, a scoop of coconut ice cream melting into it, then crisp toasted coconut and crushed peanuts. The contrast of warm and cold, chewy and creamy, is the whole point. This is a no-churn ice cream with no eggs and no custard. Sweetened condensed milk is the base: its sugar and milk solids lower the freezing point and keep crystals tiny, while whipped cream folded through traps air so it freezes soft without stirring, and coconut milk gives the flavour. Make the ice cream the day before and steam the rice just before serving. Chef's tip: whip the cream only to soft peaks; the common mistake is overwhipping it until stiff, which turns grainy and buttery once it freezes.

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Crocette di fichi (Calabrian baked fig crosses)Almond-stuffed fig crosses

Around Cosenza in northern Calabria the late-summer fig crop is dried in the sun, and the best figs are kept for crocette: two figs split open, laid across each other, filled with a toasted almond and a few fennel seeds, then baked until they darken and caramelise. They come out at Christmas, often stored in tins between bay leaves, and are eaten after dinner with nuts and mandarins. Expect a soft, jammy, chewy bite with crunch from the almond and the bright, slightly liquorice note of fennel. They go well with a cup of strong coffee or a little hard cheese. There is no egg and nothing added to bind them: in the oven the figs' own sugars soften and turn sticky, and as they cool they glue the cross together. Chef's tip: pull them out when they look shiny and just a shade darker; the common mistake is baking too long, which makes the figs hard and bitter.

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Kem chuối (Vietnamese frozen coconut banana)

Kem chuối is the frozen treat of Saigon's alleys and the Mekong towns, sold from home freezers and school gates through the long hot season. Small, very ripe bananas are pressed flat, coated in thick sweet coconut cream, rolled in roasted peanuts and frozen on a stick; you can also wrap them and slice them into coins. The banana freezes dense and chewy rather than icy, and the coconut coating stays soft and rich. It is naturally egg-free and dairy-free: the coconut cream is cooked with a spoonful of tapioca starch, which thickens it so it clings and holds a thin layer around the fruit, and the banana's own sugar keeps the middle from freezing rock-hard. Kids love making these. Chef's tip: use bananas with plenty of brown freckles; the common mistake is using firm yellow ones, which freeze bland and starchy.

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Biancomangiare (Sicilian almond-milk pudding)

In Sicily, and above all around Modica and Avola where the almonds grow, biancomangiare is the cool, white pudding of high summer, turned out of fluted moulds after Sunday lunch or eaten at the bar from a little glass. The old Sicilian kind is made with almond milk rather than cow's milk and thickened with starch, which makes it dairy-free and vegan. It is smooth and soft, faintly marzipan-scented, brightened with a strip of lemon peel and warmed with cinnamon. Serve it cold, topped with chopped pistachios, a dusting of cinnamon or a few jasmine flowers, as they do in Palermo. No egg has ever belonged in it, and nothing else is needed to set it: cornflour boiled in the almond milk sets it as it cools, the same way it sets a custard without yolks. Chef's tip: once it thickens, keep it bubbling for 2 more minutes; the common mistake is pulling it off too soon, which leaves a raw starch taste and a pudding that won't turn out cleanly.

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Fruit custard (Indian chilled vanilla custard with fruit)

All over India, fruit custard is the dessert that turns up at birthday parties, Sunday lunches and wedding buffets, and in summer it is made by the bowlful to sit in the fridge. It is a pale yellow, spoonably thick vanilla custard, chilled until cold and then loaded with chopped banana, apple, grapes, pomegranate and mango or chikoo when they are in season. Serve it on its own in glasses, or next to warm gulab jamun at a party. This version uses eggless custard powder, which is simply cornflour with vanilla flavouring and a yellow colour: the cornflour thickens the hot milk and sets it softly as it cools, doing the work that yolks do in a French crème anglaise, so the custard is naturally egg-free. Check the label says egg-free; the usual powders are just starch, flavour and colour. Chef's tip: add the fruit only when the custard is fully cold and just before serving; stirring banana and apple into warm custard is the common mistake that turns it watery and brown.

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Makówki (Silesian poppy-seed bread pudding)

Makówki are a must on the Christmas Eve table in Silesia, around Katowice and Opole, made the day before so they are ready when the first star appears. Slices of stale white rolls are soaked in sweet milk and layered with a thick mass of ground poppy seed cooked with honey, butter, nuts, raisins and candied peel, then left overnight to settle into a soft, moist, spoonable pudding. It tastes of honey and nuts, rich and not too sweet. Serve it cold, scooped from the dish. Use plain eggless white rolls (kajzerki or a basic white loaf), not brioche or challah, which are enriched doughs. The pudding is otherwise naturally egg-free: the soaked bread and the sticky poppy mass bind each other as they chill, so nothing else is needed. Chef's tip: grind the scalded poppy seed twice until it looks like wet paste; the common mistake is grinding it once, which leaves it gritty and bitter.

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葛切り (Kuzukiri, Kyoto kudzu noodles)

Kuzukiri is a summer sweet of Kyoto, served most famously in the old tea houses of Gion: a lacquered box of clear, flat noodles floating in iced water, with a cup of dark kuromitsu black-sugar syrup to dip them in. It is eaten in the hottest months as a refreshing afternoon dessert with green tea. The noodles are cool, springy and smooth, with a clean, faintly sweet taste, and the syrup is deep, smoky and molasses-rich. It is naturally egg-free and plant-based: pure kudzu starch mixed with water sets into a firm, glass-clear sheet when it is cooked in a thin layer over boiling water, the starch alone doing the binding. Serve it within half an hour of making it. Chef's tip: buy pure kudzu starch rather than a blend; the common mistake is making kuzukiri ahead, because within an hour or two it turns cloudy and stiff.

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Fak thong kaeng buat (Thai pumpkin in coconut milk)

When the rains end and pumpkins pile up in the markets of central Thailand, kaeng buat is what cooks make with them: chunks of dense kabocha simmered in coconut milk sweetened with palm sugar and sharpened with a pinch of salt. It is a homely, everyday dessert, sold warm from big pots at markets in the afternoon and also cooked at Ok Phansa, the end of Buddhist Lent. The pumpkin turns velvety but keeps its shape, and the thin, creamy, caramel-scented broth is meant to be drunk from the spoon. Eat it warm or at room temperature, in small bowls. There is no egg in it and never was: nothing needs setting or binding, as the pumpkin's own starch gives the coconut milk a light body as it cooks. Chef's tip: pick a dry, orange-fleshed kabocha and keep the coconut milk at a bare simmer; letting it boil hard is the common mistake that splits the milk and breaks the pumpkin into mush.

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Kibi dango (吉備団子, Okayama soft millet rice cakes)

Kibi dango is Okayama's souvenir sweet, sold in boxes at the station and tied to the folk tale of Momotarō, the peach boy, who shared them with a dog, a monkey and a pheasant on his way to fight the ogres. It is a year-round snack with green tea. Today's version is a gyuhi, a soft, cooked dough of glutinous rice flour, sugar and starch syrup, with a little millet flour for a pale-gold colour and a gentle, grainy sweetness. The small flat rounds are pillowy, smooth and stretchy, dusted with potato starch. The cakes are naturally egg-free: cooking the glutinous rice flour with sugar and syrup turns it into an elastic dough that binds itself, and the sugar keeps it soft for days. Chef's tip: add the sugar in three goes and stir until each lot is absorbed; the common mistake is tipping it in at once, which makes the dough seize and go lumpy. Cut them small for children and supervise, as with any mochi.

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Es pisang ijo (Makassar green banana dessert)

Es pisang ijo, green banana ice, is the pride of Makassar in South Sulawesi. It is everywhere during Ramadan as the sweet that breaks the fast at sunset, and sold year-round from stalls by the Losari waterfront. A whole steamed banana is wrapped in a thin, soft jacket of pandan-green rice-flour dough, sliced, laid on a pool of warm salty coconut porridge sauce, then buried under shaved ice and a sharp pink syrup. Cold, warm, salty, sweet and fragrant, all in one bowl. It is naturally egg-free: rice flour cooked with coconut milk and pandan juice makes a smooth, pliable dough that binds without any egg, and a little more rice flour thickens the sauce. Chef's tip: use firm but ripe bananas with a few freckles; the common mistake is very soft ones, which turn to mush inside the dough while steaming.

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Shemai (Bangladeshi Eid vermicelli in milk)

On Eid morning in Dhaka, Chattogram and villages across Bangladesh, a pot of shemai is usually on the stove before anyone leaves for prayers, and it's the first sweet offered to every visitor that day. Fine wheat vermicelli is toasted in ghee until golden, then simmered in milk with sugar, cardamom, cinnamon and the bay leaf that gives Bengali sweets their gentle, warm scent, and finished with raisins and nuts. It's creamy and soft but still loose, and it thickens as it cools. Serve it warm, or chilled the day after. It is naturally egg-free: the starch from the toasted vermicelli thickens the reduced milk, so it needs nothing to bind it. Chef's tip: take it off the heat while it still looks a little thin; cooking it until thick in the pan is the common mistake, because it sets into a stiff paste once it cools.

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Helado de dulce de leche (Buenos Aires dulce de leche ice cream)

Dulce de leche is the flavour Buenos Aires heladerías are judged by, and on a summer night the queues at neighbourhood ice-cream shops stretch out onto the pavement well after dinner. Locals order it plain, with a ripple of extra dulce de leche (dulce de leche granizado adds chocolate flakes), often by the kilo to take home. It is dense, chewy and deeply caramel. This home version is egg-free with no custard: a little cornflour cooked into the milk thickens it the way yolks would, and the dulce de leche itself is milk and sugar cooked down, its sugar and milk solids keeping crystals tiny so it stays smooth and scoopable. Churn it, or still-freeze and stir it every 45 minutes. Chef's tip: chill the extra dulce de leche before rippling it in; the common mistake is folding in a warm one, which melts into the ice cream instead of leaving ribbons.

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Wandouhuang (豌豆黄, Beijing chilled yellow pea cake)

Wandouhuang is a Beijing spring and early-summer sweet, sold from carts around the Qingming festival and once polished into an imperial version for the Qing court that is still served in Beihai Park's old-style restaurants. Yellow split peas are boiled to a mush, pressed through a sieve and cooked down with sugar until thick, then left to set in a tray and cut into neat pale-gold blocks. Chilled, it is cool and smooth with a fine, melting texture and the gentle, nutty taste of peas. Serve on small plates with jasmine tea, or after a rich meal. It is naturally egg-free and needs no setting agent at all: the starch in the peas firms the paste as it cools, like a polenta. Chef's tip: the common mistake is not cooking the paste down far enough; keep stirring until a line drawn through it with a spatula stays open for a few seconds, or it will not slice.

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Qingtuan (青团, mugwort rice balls with red bean)

Qingtuan are the taste of spring across Jiangnan: in Shanghai, Hangzhou and the water towns like Wuzhen, steamers of them appear in March and April, and families take them on Qingming tomb-sweeping visits. The dough gets its deep green colour and grassy, slightly bitter scent from young mugwort leaves blanched and blended into glutinous rice flour. Steamed and brushed with oil, the balls are glossy, soft and stretchy, with a smooth sweet red bean centre. Eat them warm or at room temperature with green tea. Qingtuan is naturally egg-free: glutinous rice flour mixed with hot water and mugwort purée forms a pliable dough that steams firm, so no binder is needed. Buy lard-free red bean paste or make your own. Chef's tip: a pinch of soda in the blanching water keeps the mugwort bright green; the common mistake is leaving it out, which gives an olive-grey dough.

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팥빙수 (Patbingsu, Korean red bean shaved ice)

Patbingsu is the great Korean summer dessert, eaten nationwide from the start of the rainy season until autumn, usually shared from one big bowl in a café after lunch or on a hot evening. Under the mound of milk ice sits the heart of it: sweet, soft red beans cooked until they almost melt, with chewy little rice cakes dusted in roasted soybean powder and a thread of condensed milk. Fluffy, creamy and earthy-sweet. There are no eggs anywhere: the ice is milk and condensed milk frozen in a thin layer, and the condensed milk's sugar keeps the crystals fine so the shavings are soft and snowy rather than crunchy, while the beans thicken with their own starch. Make the beans and the ice a day ahead. Chef's tip: freeze the milk thin in a flat tray and scrape it with a fork; the common mistake is freezing it in a deep tub, which sets too hard to shave.

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Ciambelline al mosto (alcohol-free ring biscuits)Grape juice ring biscuits

All over Lazio, from the Castelli Romani to the countryside around Rome, these sugar-crusted ring biscuits are put out at the end of a meal and at the autumn grape harvest, when they are dunked into a glass to soften. The classic dough is made with equal measures of liquid, olive oil and sugar; here the liquid is red grape juice, which is close to the fresh mosto of harvest time and gives the same pinkish crumb and fruity edge with no alcohol at all. The rings are crunchy and light, a little crumbly, with a crackly sugar coat and a hint of aniseed. Serve them with grape juice, coffee or a pot of tea for dunking. They are naturally egg-free: the olive oil and juice bind the flour into a smooth dough, and baking powder does the lifting that eggs might do elsewhere. Chef's tip: roll the ropes no thicker than a pencil and a half, about 1 cm; the common mistake is chunky ropes, which brown outside before the middle dries and leave the biscuits hard instead of crisp.

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Bánh tro (bánh gio, amber glutinous rice cakes in leaves)Lye water glutinous rice cakes

On Tết Đoan Ngọ, the fifth day of the fifth lunar month, families in northern and central Vietnam eat bánh tro first thing in the morning, believing it cools the body as summer heat arrives. Glutinous rice is soaked in alkaline water, which was once made by steeping plant ash, then wrapped in leaves and boiled for hours. It turns amber, translucent and jelly-soft with a clean, faintly mineral flavour, and is eaten cold, dipped in sugarcane molasses or palm-sugar syrup. Bánh tro is naturally egg-free: the alkali softens the rice grains so their own starch melts together into a firm, sliceable cake. We use food-grade lye water (an alkaline solution of potassium carbonate and sodium bicarbonate sold in Asian shops for noodles and mooncakes). Handle it with care: wear gloves, keep it away from children, never use drain cleaner or caustic soda, and always dilute it as written. Chef's tip: the common mistake is skipping the rinse; wash the soaked rice twice so the cakes taste clean, not soapy.

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Wandu appa (වංඩු ආප්ප, fermented rice cakes steamed in leaf cones)Steamed rice treacle cakes

Wandu appa are sold in morning markets and at roadside kades all over the island, and they are one of the sweets that appear on the table for Avurudu. A batter of rice flour, coconut milk and kithul treacle is left to ferment for a few hours, then poured into small cones of kenda or jak leaf and steamed. They puff into tender, spongy domes with a gentle sourness, a caramel note from the treacle and the leafy aroma of their wrappers. Eat them warm for breakfast or with afternoon tea. They are naturally egg-free: yeast does the lifting that whisked eggs would do in a sponge, and the rice starch sets the bubbles in place as it steams. Banana-leaf cones or small paper-lined cups work too. Chef's tip: the common mistake is filling the cones to the brim; fill them two-thirds full so they rise into a dome instead of spilling over.

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Gudpak (Nepali khuwa, gum and jaggery fudge)

In the Kathmandu Valley, gudpak is the sweet of cold mornings, eaten in the depths of winter and around Maghe Sankranti, and given to new mothers to restore their strength after childbirth. Khuwa (milk solids) is roasted in ghee, sweetened with jaggery, and mixed with crunchy fried edible gum, nuts and coconut before being pressed into a tray and cut into squares. It's dense, rich and slightly chewy, with a warm caramel flavour and pops of crunch from the puffed gum. Eat a square with milky tea or as a small sweet after dinner. It is naturally egg-free: the khuwa and jaggery cooked together into a thick mass bind the fudge, and the edible gum (gond) gives it body. Chef's tip: fry the gum in small amounts over a low heat until it puffs up white; frying it too fast is the common mistake, which leaves it hard, glassy and unpleasant to chew.

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Bhapa doi (Bengali steamed sweet yogurt)

Bhapa doi means steamed yogurt, and it's the dessert Kolkata households make when there's no time to visit the sweet shop for mishti doi. It's especially popular on Jamai Shashthi and at Poila Baisakh, the Bengali New Year, but it appears at Sunday lunches all year. Thick hung yogurt is mixed with condensed milk and a little milk, scented with cardamom, then gently steamed until it sets like a soft cheesecake without a crust. Chilled, it's dense, smooth and tangy-sweet. Serve it plain in small bowls, topped with pistachios, or with ripe mango in summer. There is no egg here: the milk proteins in the yogurt and condensed milk set with gentle heat, just as eggs would set a baked custard, and the condensed milk adds body and sweetness. Chef's tip: steam it on a low, gentle simmer; the common mistake is a fierce boil, which makes the yogurt weep whey and turn grainy.

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Moron (Leyte chocolate and coconut sticky rice twists)Chocolate sticky rice rolls

Moron is the pride of Leyte and Samar, made for town fiestas and sold all year in Tacloban markets as a merienda. Two doughs of glutinous rice cooked in coconut milk and sugar, one plain and one darkened with tablea, the pure roasted cacao of the Visayas, are rolled into ropes, twisted together and steamed in banana leaves. Each log is chewy and dense, with ribbons of bittersweet chocolate through creamy coconut rice. Unwrap and eat warm or cool, ideally with a mug of thick hot chocolate. Moron is naturally egg-free: the glutinous rice flour is half-cooked in coconut milk first, which swells the starch so it binds into a soft, rollable dough, and steaming sets it. Chef's tip: the common mistake is wrapping the logs loosely; roll the leaf tightly and twist the ends like a sweet wrapper, or water gets in and the logs turn soggy.

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Bánh cốm (Hanoi green rice-flake cake with mung bean filling)

When the new crop of young glutinous rice comes in, in early autumn, Hanoi smells of cốm: green, flattened rice flakes from the village of Vòng. The shops on Hàng Than street press them into bánh cốm, square cakes that are still carried as betrothal gifts in their paper wrappers. The outside is soft, chewy and jade green, tasting faintly of grass and pandan; the inside is a mellow paste of mung bean and coconut. Serve them at room temperature with green or lotus tea. Bánh cốm is naturally egg-free: a hot sugar syrup and a spoonful of tapioca starch turn the rice flakes into a sticky mass that binds itself, and the mung bean paste is bound by its own starch. Use frozen or dried cốm from an Asian grocer; soak dried flakes briefly first. Chef's tip: the common mistake is cooking the cốm too hard; stop as soon as it pulls together into a sticky ball, or the cakes go rubbery when cool.

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ซาหริ่ม (Sarim, mung bean noodles in coconut syrup)

Sarim is an old dessert of central Thailand, served at temple fairs and in market dessert shops on sweltering afternoons: thin, slippery strands in pastel green, blue and white, floating in a pale coconut syrup over a mound of crushed ice. The strands are almost flavourless and very soft, so the syrup does the work; in Thailand it is scented with jasmine flowers or the smoke of a scented candle, and here with pandan and optional fresh jasmine. It is naturally egg-free: the strands are pure mung bean starch cooked with water into a clear, thick paste, which sets into a soft gel the moment it hits ice water. Pandan juice and butterfly pea flowers give the colours, so there is no need for dyes. Serve it straight away, as a light end to a spicy meal. Chef's tip: cook the paste until it turns fully glossy and see-through; the common mistake is stopping while it is still milky, which gives strands that break and taste floury.

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Duraznos en almíbar (Mexican peaches in piloncillo syrup)

Across Mexico, from the orchards of Zacatecas and Puebla to every abuela's pantry, duraznos en almíbar are how the summer peach crop is kept, and a bowl of them chilled from the fridge is a classic Sunday dessert. Peeled peach halves are poached in a syrup of piloncillo, the cone-shaped raw cane sugar, with cinnamon and cloves, so they turn tender and glossy and soak up a warm, molasses-like sweetness. Serve them cold in their syrup, on their own, or with a spoon of crema or thick yoghurt. Nothing needs setting and no egg is involved: the fruit simply poaches in the sugar syrup, which thickens lightly as it cools. Chef's tip: choose ripe but firm peaches and poach them gently; the common mistake is boiling the syrup hard, which turns the halves ragged and stringy.

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Kluay chuam (Thai bananas in palm-sugar syrup)

Kluay chuam is a market dessert of central Thailand, cooked in big brass pans and sold by the bag year round, and it is a common sweet to offer monks at merit-making. Small, starchy nam wa bananas are simmered slowly in palm-sugar syrup until they turn translucent and amber, soft and chewy rather than mushy, then served with thick, salty coconut cream poured over. The flavour is deep caramel and banana, cut by the salt. Serve at room temperature in small bowls. Being egg-free by nature, it relies on the long simmer in syrup firms the bananas and a little rice flour thickens the coconut topping. Chef's tip: keep the syrup at the gentlest simmer and don't stir; the common mistake is a fast boil and a spoon, which break the bananas before they have time to turn glassy.

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Dulce de fruta bomba (Cuban green papaya in syrup)

In Cuba, papaya is called fruta bomba, and its green, unripe fruit is cooked into this old-fashioned dulce, a fixture of home cooking all over the island and often made in big batches to keep. Strips of firm green papaya are simmered slowly in a cinnamon and lime-peel syrup until they turn translucent and chewy, with a candied, honeyed flavour. The Cuban way to eat it is with a slice of salty, crumbly white cheese, which balances the sweetness; a cup of strong coffee goes alongside. The dulce is egg-free by tradition, with nothing to bind: the papaya candies in the sugar syrup, and a short soak in water with a little bicarbonate of soda helps the strips stay firm. Chef's tip: rinse the strips well after the soak and simmer them gently; the common mistake is boiling the syrup fast, which hardens the outside of the papaya before the syrup can soak in.

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Gil-e-firdaus (Hyderabadi bottle gourd and rice pudding)

The name means 'clay of paradise', and gil-e-firdaus belongs to the grand dessert tables of Hyderabad, served at weddings, at Eid and during Ramadan iftars alongside double ka meetha. Grated bottle gourd (lauki) is softened in ghee, then cooked in milk with coarsely ground rice and crumbled khoya until thick, pale green and fragrant with cardamom and rose water. It's thicker than a kheer, creamy and gently grainy, with soft strands of gourd and plenty of almonds and pistachios. Serve it warm in winter or chilled in summer, in small bowls. It is naturally egg-free: the ground rice and khoya do the thickening, giving it the richness a custard would. Chef's tip: squeeze the grated gourd well and add the sugar only once the rice is cooked; sugar added too early is the common mistake that stops the rice softening and leaves the pudding runny.

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Halape (හලපේ, finger-millet and jaggery parcels steamed in leaves)Finger millet and jaggery leaf parcels

In village homes in the south and the hill country, halape is an afternoon snack and a temple-day treat, steamed in the large, heart-shaped leaves of the kenda tree, which leave a faint grassy perfume. The dough is kurakkan, finger-millet flour, which is brick-brown, slightly bitter and very filling; it wraps a sweet layer of grated coconut and dark kithul jaggery. Once steamed, the parcels are dense, moist and fudgy, a little like a rustic steamed pudding, and they are best warm with a cup of plain tea. Nothing here was ever made with egg: steaming sets the millet starch and the jaggery melts into the coconut and holds it together. Banana leaves work well if you cannot find kenda. Chef's tip: the common mistake is spreading the dough too thick; keep it about 5 mm so the middle steams through before the outside turns hard.

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冰粉 (Bingfen, Sichuan ice jelly)Ice jelly with brown sugar syrup

Bingfen is what Chengdu reaches for after a numbing hotpot or on a sticky summer night: a bowl of wobbly, glass-clear jelly, cold from the fridge, splashed with dark brown-sugar syrup and scattered with hawthorn flakes, raisins, peanuts and sesame. It is sold at night markets and hotpot restaurants all over Sichuan and Chongqing, and the jelly itself tastes of almost nothing, just cool and soothing, so the syrup and toppings bring the flavour. It is naturally egg-free and plant-based. The jelly traditionally comes from shoo-fly plant seeds rubbed in water; here it is made with ice-jelly powder, a plant-based setting powder sold in Chinese grocers, which sets clear as it cools. Chef's tip: let the jelly set undisturbed; the common mistake is stirring or moving it while it is half-set, which leaves it cloudy and weeping.

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Mame gohanRice with green peas

When the first pea pods arrive in Japanese greengrocers in April and May, home cooks from Kyoto to Tokyo make mame gohan: short-grain rice steamed with a strip of kombu and lightly salted, then folded through with sweet, bright green peas. It is eaten warm with miso soup and pickles, or pressed into onigiri for a spring picnic. A bowl gives about 9 g of protein, from the rice and peas, so serve it with tofu or an egg dish if you want a fuller meal; it is not a high-protein dish on its own. Many recipes add a splash of sake; this version leaves it out, so it is alcohol-free. The common mistake is cooking the peas with the rice from the start: they turn khaki and wrinkled. Here they are boiled separately and added at the end. Chef's tip: let the peas cool in their salted cooking water rather than draining them hot; they stay plump instead of puckering.

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Raspados (Mexican shaved ice with fruit syrups)

In Guadalajara and the towns of Sinaloa, raspados are sold from carts and little shops from noon until late on hot days: a paper cup of finely shaved ice soaked in bright homemade syrups like tamarind, mango, strawberry and deep-red hibiscus, sometimes with fresh fruit and a squeeze of lime. They are the cheapest way to cool down, and children and adults line up alike. They are naturally egg-free and plant-based: there is nothing to set or bind, just fruit and sugar cooked into syrups thick enough to cling to the ice. The hibiscus is tart and floral, the mango sweet and thick, and the two side by side make a striking cup. Make the syrups and cool them quickly over iced water. Chef's tip: shave the ice as fine as you can and pour the syrup slowly; the common mistake is using coarse crushed ice, which lets the syrup run straight to the bottom.

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Sacolé de maracujá (Brazilian passion fruit ice pops)

Sacolé, called geladinho or chup-chup in other states, is the homemade ice pop of Brazil: a creamy or fruity mixture tied into slim plastic bags and frozen, sold for a few coins from home freezers in Rio's neighbourhoods and all over the country, especially in summer and during school holidays. You bite off a corner and push the frozen pop up as you eat. This creamy passion fruit version is tangy and smooth. There are no eggs: milk thickened with a little cornflour and sweetened condensed milk make the base, the cooked starch and the condensed milk's sugar keeping the crystals small so the pop is soft enough to bite rather than icy. Coconut, corn and chocolate are other favourites. Chef's tip: stir in the passion fruit only once the base is cold; the common mistake is adding the acid pulp to hot milk, which makes it curdle.

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Elaneer payasam (Kerala tender-coconut milk pudding)

In Kerala, where green coconuts are sold by the roadside all summer, elaneer payasam is the cool, delicate cousin of the hot temple payasams. It turns up at Vishu lunches and summer weddings, and on any hot afternoon when someone has opened a few tender coconuts. Milk is boiled down until creamy and faintly caramel, sweetened, chilled, and only then mixed with slippery spoonfuls of young coconut flesh and a little of its water, so the coconut stays fresh and floral rather than cooked. The pudding is pourable, silky and cold, with soft white strands of coconut through it; serve it in small glasses after a meal or alongside banana chips. It is naturally egg-free: the long reduction of the milk, helped by a little condensed milk, gives the body that a custard would get from yolks. Chef's tip: the common mistake is stirring the coconut water into hot milk, which can make it split and taste sour; let the milk cool completely first.

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Fontainebleau (fromage blanc and whipped cream mousse)

Fontainebleau takes its name from the town south of Paris, whose cheese shops sold it in little muslin-wrapped pots for the weekend. It is a fresh-cheese dessert for late spring and summer, best when the first strawberries and raspberries arrive. Fromage blanc and whipped cream are folded together and left to drain in muslin, so the mousse firms up into a light, cloud-soft mound that tastes of fresh milk with a gentle tang. Serve it chilled with berries or a spoonful of red-fruit coulis, and a little extra sugar on the side. Some recipes fold in whisked whites; this one leaves them out entirely, because firmly whipped cream alone holds the air, and draining away the whey gives the mousse its shape. Chef's tip: drain the fromage blanc before you start; the common mistake is folding in a wet, runny cheese, which collapses the cream and leaves a puddle in the dish.

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Cuccìa (Palermo wheat berries with sweet ricotta)

On 13 December, the feast of Santa Lucia, Palermo stops eating bread and pasta for a day. The story goes that during a famine a ship of grain arrived on her feast day and people were too hungry to mill it, so they boiled the wheat whole; cuccìa remembers that. The berries are boiled until plump and chewy, then folded into sweetened sheep's ricotta with candied orange, chocolate and cinnamon, so it eats like a cannolo filling with a pleasant bite. Serve it chilled in bowls or glasses, on the day itself or any winter afternoon. Like most Sicilian ricotta sweets it is egg-free by nature: the thick, drained ricotta binds the wheat into a creamy pudding, with nothing to set. Some families make a savoury version with chickpeas and oil, too. Chef's tip: cool the wheat completely before it meets the ricotta; the common mistake is folding in warm grains, which melts the cheese into a runny, grainy mess.

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Aiwowo (艾窝窝, Beijing stuffed sticky rice balls)

Aiwowo began as a Hui Muslim snack in Beijing and is now a fixture of old Beijing snack shops from Lunar New Year until summer, eaten cool as a mid-afternoon treat. Steamed glutinous rice is pounded until sticky, wrapped around a crunchy filling of toasted sesame, walnuts, sugar and sugared osmanthus, then rolled in cooked rice flour so the balls look like little snowballs. They are soft and chewy outside, crunchy and fragrant inside, and only lightly sweet. Serve them with jasmine or chrysanthemum tea. Aiwowo is naturally egg-free: pounding the steamed rice releases its sticky starch, which binds the dough and seals in the filling. Chef's tip: the common mistake is dusting with raw flour; steam the flour first, or the coating tastes chalky.

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Tilslørte bondepiker (Norwegian veiled farm girls)

Norwegians make tilslørte bondepiker in autumn, when the apple trees in the fjord orchards of Hardanger and Telemark are heavy, and it stays a Sunday-dinner favourite through winter. The 'farm girls' are the layers of tart apple compote, the 'veil' is the whipped cream on top, and between them are crisp breadcrumbs toasted in butter with sugar and cinnamon. It is spooned from a glass bowl: soft fruit, crunchy caramel crumbs and cold cream in each mouthful. Serve it soon after layering, while the crumbs still crunch. No egg is involved anywhere, since the apples cook down into a thick purée on their own, so there is nothing to bind or set; just make the crumbs from an eggless white loaf or plain rusks. Chef's tip: toast the crumbs slowly over a medium-low heat and keep stirring; the common mistake is rushing them over a high heat, so the sugar burns before the crumbs are crisp.

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Matrimony (Jamaican star apple and orange with condensed milk)Star apple and orange dessert

Jamaica's star apples ripen in winter, so matrimony, the 'marriage' of star apple and orange, is a Christmas dessert, eaten cold after the big meal on Christmas Day. The purple star apples are scooped from their skins, their sweet, milky, jelly-like pulp mixed with juicy orange segments and dressed with condensed milk and freshly grated nutmeg. It is cool, sweet and fragrant, soft and a little jelly-like from the fruit. Serve it straight from the bowl or in glasses, as the last sweet thing of the Christmas meal. It is naturally egg-free and uncooked: condensed milk gives it body and binds the fruit into a creamy dessert, and nothing needs setting. Chef's tip: scrape the pulp only, never the skin; the common mistake is digging too close to the purple rind, whose sticky latex is bitter and gums up the spoon.

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Narkel naru (Bengali coconut balls)

Narkel naru are made by the plateful in Bengali homes for Lakshmi Puja and on Bijoya Dashami, when they're offered to every visitor who comes to exchange greetings after Durga Puja. Freshly grated coconut is cooked slowly with jaggery, ideally the winter date-palm jaggery called nolen gur, until the mixture turns sticky and caramel-brown, then rolled into small balls while still warm. They're chewy and moist, intensely coconutty, with a deep molasses sweetness. Serve them at room temperature with tea or as part of a festival plate. They're naturally egg-free and vegan: the jaggery, cooked down to a sticky syrup, binds the coconut, with no flour or milk needed. Use sugar for a white naru if you prefer. Chef's tip: roll them while the mixture is still warm; waiting until it's cold is the common mistake, because it then crumbles and won't hold a ball shape.

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Mizu shingen mochi (Yamanashi raindrop cake)

Mizu shingen mochi comes from Hokuto in Yamanashi, at the foot of the Southern Alps, where a sweet shop first set the local spring water into a trembling, glass-clear dome. It is a summer sweet, eaten in the heat of July and August, and it has to be eaten within half an hour of being made, before it starts to weep. There is almost no flavour of its own: the point is the cool, melting texture, with nutty kinako and dark kuromitsu syrup poured over at the table. Despite the name it is not a rice mochi at all, and it is naturally egg-free. Agar, a seaweed setting agent, holds the water in shape; using just enough to set it makes it melt on the tongue. Serve with green tea. Chef's tip: boil the agar hard for a full 2 minutes; just warming it is the common mistake, and the domes stay liquid in the mould.

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Aiskrim potong (Malaysian red bean ice-cream bars)

Aiskrim potong, literally cut ice cream, comes from the days when Malaysian factories froze long blocks of dense ice cream that vendors sliced into bars to order. It is still sold nationwide from motorbike freezers and kampung shops, especially in the afternoon heat after school, in flavours like coconut, sweet corn, yam and durian, with red bean as the classic. It is firmer and denser than scooped ice cream and melts slowly in the hand. There is no egg: the base is cornflour cooked into coconut milk and milk, with a little condensed milk. The cooked starch gives the bars their chewy, close bite and keeps them smooth because it ties up the water before it can form big crystals. Chef's tip: stir the half-frozen block once so the beans don't all sink; the common mistake is pouring and leaving it, which gives a bean-heavy bottom and a plain top.

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Reshteh khoshkar (Gilani rice-flour walnut rolls in syrup)

Reshteh khoshkar is the pastry of Gilan on Iran's Caspian coast, made in Rasht and Lahijan homes and bakeries for Ramadan, when a plate of it with tea breaks the fast at iftar. A thin rice-flour batter is drizzled in a lacy criss-cross over a hot griddle to make a fine net, which is filled with walnuts, sugar, cardamom and cinnamon, folded into a neat roll, fried until crisp and soaked in rose-scented syrup. It is crunchy, then soft and sticky, with a fragrant, nutty filling. Serve it at room temperature with strong black tea. The dish has always been egg-free: the rice-flour batter sets on the hot griddle into a net by itself, and the sugar in the filling and syrup glues the rolls together, so there is no need for any other binder, and nothing in it contains gluten. Chef's tip: test the griddle with a few drops of batter first; the common mistake is a griddle that is not hot enough, which lets the batter spread into a pancake instead of setting into a lacy net.

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Maejakgwa (Korean ginger ribbon twists in honey syrup)

Maejakgwa is one of Korea's oldest hangwa, the traditional confections served on holiday tables at Seollal and Chuseok, at weddings and ancestral rites, and with tea when guests visit. Thin rectangles of ginger-scented wheat dough are slit and twisted into little ribbons, fried until crisp and pale gold, then dipped in honey and cinnamon syrup and finished with ground pine nuts. The name is often said to come from their resemblance to a sparrow perched on a plum branch. They shatter lightly when bitten, then turn sweet and warm with ginger. Serve a small plate with green tea or a cup of sweet rice punch. They are naturally egg-free: the dough is just flour, ginger juice and water held together by its own gluten, and the honey syrup that coats them is the only glaze. Because of the honey they are vegetarian but not vegan. Chef's tip: keep the frying oil at about 160°C; the common mistake is oil that is too hot, which browns the ribbons before they crisp through and leaves them chewy inside.

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Sült tök (Hungarian roasted sweet pumpkin)

When the first cold sets in, Hungarian street vendors and market stalls set up their ovens and sell sült tök: thick wedges of sweet pumpkin roasted until the flesh is soft as jam and the edges are caramelised and almost sticky. It is bought hot and eaten on the spot through autumn and winter, often from the same stands that sell roasted chestnuts, and at home it is a simple afternoon treat for children. The flavour is deep and honeyed with a slightly smoky edge from the browned skin; a dusting of cinnamon sugar is optional. Eat it with a spoon straight from the skin, alongside a cup of hot tea or warm apple juice. It is naturally egg-free and needs no binding at all: the pumpkin's own sugars concentrate and caramelise in the oven's dry heat. Chef's tip: pick a dense, dry, deep-orange pumpkin such as a Hungarian sweet pumpkin, kabocha or butternut; the common mistake is using a watery carving pumpkin, which steams instead of caramelising.

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Sült gesztenye (Hungarian roasted chestnuts)

From November until the end of winter, the smell of roasting chestnuts drifts along Budapest's boulevards and around Christmas markets in every Hungarian town, where sellers shake them over charcoal and pour them hot into paper cones. Roasting turns the nuts sweet and soft, mealy like a baked potato but with a gentle nutty sweetness and a hint of smoke where the shell has charred. Eat them straight away, peeled with your fingers while they are hot, with a cup of hot tea, hot spiced apple juice or a bag of roasted pumpkin from the next stall. They are naturally egg-free, a single ingredient with nothing to bind: heat turns the chestnut's starch to sugar and softens it. A short soak in water before roasting adds steam inside the shell, so the nuts cook evenly and peel more easily. Chef's tip: cut a deep cross through the shell on the rounded side of every chestnut; the common mistake is skipping or under-cutting it, and then the steam bursts the chestnuts open in the oven.

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Yugwa (Korean puffed glutinous-rice crackers)

Yugwa are the light, airy crackers piled on trays at Seollal, the Lunar New Year, and given in gift boxes for Chuseok and weddings across Korea. A dough of glutinous rice is steamed and pounded until stretchy, rolled thin, cut and dried until hard, then fried slowly so each piece swells to several times its size into a crisp, hollow puff. A brush of rice syrup and a coating of puffed rice or sesame finish them. They melt on the tongue, crunchy but almost weightless, gently sweet and toasty. Serve with green tea or barley tea. Yugwa never used egg: the sticky starch of glutinous rice, steamed and pounded, traps air and binds the dough, and the rice syrup glues on the coating. Some cooks add rice wine to the dough; this version uses plain water and needs no alcohol. Chef's tip: dry the cut pieces until they snap like a cracker before frying; the common mistake is frying them half-dried, and then they stay flat and chewy instead of puffing.

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Lavariya (ලැවරියා, string-hopper parcels with coconut treacle filling)

Lavariya turns up on the Sinhala and Tamil New Year table in mid-April, when households across Sri Lanka lay out a spread of sweets after the auspicious hour. It starts as string-hopper dough: roasted rice flour scalded with boiling water and pressed through a mould into fine noodles. Here the noodles are piped in a coil, filled with pani pol, grated coconut cooked down in kithul treacle with cardamom, then folded into a half-moon and steamed. The result is soft, lacy and springy outside, with a sticky, smoky-sweet centre. Serve warm with plain tea or as part of an Avurudu platter with kokis and kavum. It is naturally egg-free: the boiling water cooks and swells the rice starch so the dough holds its shape, and the thick treacle binds the coconut. Chef's tip: the common mistake is using warm rather than boiling water; the dough then crumbles in the press, so pour it straight off the boil and mix with a spoon until cool enough to knead.

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Necci (Tuscan chestnut-flour pancakes with ricotta)

In the chestnut woods of the Garfagnana above Lucca and the hills around Pistoia, necci arrive with the new season's chestnut flour in late autumn and stay through winter, cooked at village fairs and at home as a sweet snack or a light supper. The batter is nothing but sweet chestnut flour, water and a pinch of salt; traditionally it was poured between pairs of hot iron or stone discs lined with chestnut leaves, but a non-stick crêpe pan does the job. The pancakes are soft, faintly smoky and naturally sweet, with an earthy taste, and are rolled around cold fresh ricotta. Serve two or three each, with a drizzle of honey or a cup of coffee alongside. They are naturally egg-free: the fine starch and sugar in chestnut flour set the batter on the heat by themselves, so it holds together without eggs. Chef's tip: sieve the flour and whisk the batter until it is as smooth and thin as single cream; the common mistake is a thick batter, which gives heavy, gummy necci that crack when rolled.

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Mustazzoli (Salento almond, cocoa and spice biscuits)Spiced almond biscuits

In Lecce and the towns of the Salento, mustazzoli are baked for Christmas and for the summer saints' feasts, when stalls at the fairs stack them in glossy dark piles. They are diamond-shaped biscuits of toasted almonds, flour, sugar and cocoa, spiced with cinnamon and cloves and brightened with orange zest, then coated in dark chocolate. Inside they are firm and dense, a bit like a soft gingerbread, with a crisp chocolate shell. Eat them with an espresso after lunch or pack them as a gift; they keep for weeks. The dough was always egg-free: water and the sugar bind it, the ground almonds give fat and body, and a little baking powder keeps them from being leaden. Use a dark chocolate with no milk solids and the whole batch is vegan. Chef's tip: let the biscuits cool completely before glazing; the common mistake is dipping them warm, which melts the chocolate into a thin streaky coat that never sets glossy.

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OhrapuuroBarley porridge

Ohrapuuro is the comfort food of Finnish farmhouses: pearl barley cooked slowly in plenty of milk until it turns creamy, pale and faintly sweet, then served with a knob of butter melting in the middle and a spoon of lingonberry or berry kissel. It is a breakfast for winter mornings and a supper for Christmas Eve in many families, and the oven version used to cook overnight in the cooling bread oven. A bowl gives about 14 g of protein from the milk and barley, so it is filling, but not a high-protein dish. The common mistake is cooking it too fast on a high heat; the milk catches and burns on the bottom, so keep it at a bare simmer and stir often. Chef's tip: soak the barley in water overnight if you can; it cuts the cooking time to about an hour and the grains cook more evenly.

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Aachener Printen (Aachen spiced gingerbread slabs)

The bakeries of Aachen have made Printen for centuries, and from late autumn through Christmas the city's shop windows fill with these narrow brown slabs. Unlike soft German Lebkuchen they are firm and snappy, sweetened with dark sugar-beet syrup and studded with little crunchy bits of rock sugar, and they carry a big blend of spices: cinnamon, aniseed, coriander, cloves, cardamom and allspice. The dough rests overnight to develop flavour, then is raised with potash, which gives the dense, crisp texture. Dunk them in coffee or tea, or serve with baked apples. Printen never contained egg: the thick beet syrup is both sweetener and binder, gluing the flour into a stiff dough that sets hard in the oven. Chef's tip: let the syrup cool to lukewarm before mixing in the flour; the common mistake is adding it hot, which starts cooking the flour and gives a tough, rubbery dough.

1465 minGermanBakingVegan
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Boeber (Cape Malay vermicelli and sago milk pudding)

In Cape Town's Cape Malay homes, the fifteenth night of Ramadan is Boeber night, when big pots of this warm, sweet milk are cooked and shared with neighbours and the mosque after the fast is broken. It also turns up on cold winter evenings. Boeber is halfway between a drink and a pudding: toasted vermicelli and pearls of sago swim in milk spiced with cardamom and cinnamon, scented with rose water and finished with almonds and sultanas. It is creamy, fragrant and thick enough to need a spoon. Serve it hot in mugs or bowls. Boeber has never needed egg; the sago pearls release their starch as they cook and thicken the milk, while a little butter gives it a rich finish. Chef's tip: toast the vermicelli in the butter until golden before any milk goes in, for a nutty flavour; the common mistake is to stop stirring once the sago goes in, and it sinks and sticks to the base of the pot.

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