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.
Filter these by time, diet or cuisine · Make No onion & garlic your diet to see only these recipes everywhere on the site.
Born in the 1990s at a juice stand in Guadalajara, Jalisco, the biónico is now the city's favourite breakfast on the go: a tall cup of chopped papaya, melon, apple, banana and strawberries drenched in a sweet cream of yoghurt, soured cream and condensed milk, then scattered with granola, coconut and raisins. Kids adore it and it takes fifteen minutes. Chef's tip: cut the banana last and fold it straight into the cream, so it stays pale.
Brown, cloudy and gloriously tart, agua de tamarindo fills the big glass vitroleros at taquerías and fondas across Mexico, especially in hot Guerrero, Colima and the Yucatán, and it is the drink most people reach for with a plate of tacos de guisado. The pods are peeled, simmered and rubbed through a sieve, so it tastes far fresher than paste or concentrate. Chef's tip: soak the pulp in the hot cooking water before you rub it, which loosens every bit from the seeds.
At the candy stalls of Oaxaca's Mercado 20 de Noviembre and in the towns of Michoacán, bright green candied limes stuffed with snowy coconut are a jewel of traditional dulcería. The limes are scraped, soaked and boiled to take away the bitterness, then candied over two days until glassy, hollowed and filled. They are sweet, chewy and sharp at once, made for weddings and gifts. Chef's tip: change the soaking water every time without fail, as that is what takes away the bitterness of the pith.
Pale green and very refreshing, agua de pepino is the cooler sold from market juice stands in Mexico City and Oaxaca when the afternoon heat builds, and families blend a jug for comida on hot days. Cucumber, lime and a few mint leaves give a clean, light taste with very little sugar. Chef's tip: leave some of the peel on the cucumber for colour, but strain the drink so it stays silky.
The town of Tocumbo in Michoacán sent paleteros all over Mexico, and their shops, the paleterías michoacanas, sell fruit ice pops from Tijuana to Cancún. Mango con chile is one of the most loved: chunky frozen mango purée, sharp with lime, with a ribbon of chile powder through it and more sprinkled on top. Chef's tip: leave a few small cubes of mango in the purée, so every bite has real fruit.
Zamora in Michoacán gave its name to chongos, soft knots of fresh milk curd slowly poached in their own whey with sugar and cinnamon until the syrup turns golden and the curds turn springy. They are served cool in small glass bowls after Sunday lunch, and jars are sold at roadside stands across the Bajío. Traditionally the milk is set with animal rennet; use a vegetarian rennet (microbial or plant-based) to keep it vegetarian. Chef's tip: never stir after the curds form, only tilt the pan, or they break into crumbs.
Mamey, the rough brown fruit with salmon-orange flesh that tastes like sweet potato, pumpkin and almond at once, is a favourite in Tabasco, Chiapas, Veracruz and the Yucatán, and its ice cream is a star of the nevería in any southern town. The fruit is naturally so creamy that a little milk and sugar is enough. It contains dairy. Chef's tip: use a mamey that gives like a ripe avocado when pressed; underripe ones taste chalky.
Mekong Delta households, where banana trees line every canal, make chè chuối when the fruit is ripe and plentiful, and Saigon sweet-soup stalls sell it warm in the evening. Short, sweet bananas soften in coconut milk thickened with tapioca pearls, turning slightly pink as they cook, and the bowl is finished with toasted sesame and crushed peanuts. It is eaten warm, never iced. Chef's tip: use firm, just-ripe bananas; very soft ones dissolve into mush before the tapioca is cooked.
In the Mekong Delta, the week before Tết means trays of papaya, daikon and carrot strips drying in the sun on every balcony, to be packed into jars for dưa món. The drying makes the vegetables wonderfully crunchy and lets them drink up a sweet, salty brine. Families eat a little alongside thịt kho trứng and bánh tét to cut the richness over the holiday. The classic brine uses fish sauce; this one uses tamari, which keeps it vegan and gives a deep amber colour. Chef's tip: dry the strips until they bend like leather; damp vegetables go soft and cloudy in the jar.
Đà Lạt, cool and misty, made the mushroom hotpot famous, and vegetarian lẩu restaurants in Hanoi and Saigon now fill up with groups on cold or rainy evenings. A clear broth sweetened with daikon, corn cobs, carrot and apple sits on a burner in the middle of the table; everyone drops in mushrooms, tofu and greens, fishes them out a minute later and spoons them over rice noodles. Expect to top up the pot and keep eating for an hour. Chef's tip: simmer the broth vegetables gently and never boil hard; a rolling boil clouds the broth and dulls its natural sweetness.
Saigon's chay restaurants, the ones tucked beside pagodas that fill up on the 1st and 15th of each lunar month, nearly always have a plate of this on the table: golden tofu cubes buried under a crunchy, fragrant rubble of fried lemongrass and red chilli. The tofu stays soft inside, the lemongrass turns nutty and crisp, and a splash of tamari with a little sugar glazes everything. Eat it with steamed jasmine rice, sliced cucumber and a bowl of clear vegetable soup. Many chay cooks skip garlic and shallot, so this version leaves them out. Chef's tip: mince the lemongrass really finely and fry it on its own until golden; coarse chunks or lemongrass added with the tofu stay woody and chewy.
Long before coffee arrived, atole was the morning drink of central and southern Mexico, and in villages of Oaxaca, Puebla and Tlaxcala plain atole blanco is still drunk hot with tamales at breakfast or on cold evenings. Fresh masa is whisked into water and cooked until it thickens to a silky, gently sweet drink with a toasty corn taste. Made with water it is vegan. Chef's tip: strain the masa before cooking, so the atole is smooth with no lumps.
Bangkok's old dessert shops in Thonburi and the markets around Ayutthaya stack trays of this cake on their counters, and it turns up at weddings and house blessings because 'chan' also sounds like rising a level in life. Each green or white band is steamed on top of the last, so the finished slice is springy, faintly chewy and scented with pandan and jasmine; children eat it by peeling off one layer at a time. Serve it at room temperature with hot jasmine tea. Chef's tip: the classic mistake is pouring the next layer before the one beneath has turned fully translucent, which blurs the stripes; give each layer its full five minutes.
Bocoles are breakfast across the Huasteca, the green hill country shared by Veracruz, San Luis Potosí and Tamaulipas, where they come off the comal at dawn to be split open and stuffed. The masa is enriched with fat (traditionally pork lard; vegetable shortening here keeps them vegetarian) so the cakes are tender and slightly crumbly. Fill them with beans, cheese and salsa, or with scrambled egg. If you keep a vegetarian kitchen, note that ranch-style fresh cheese is usually set with animal rennet; a vegetarian queso fresco or feta does the same job. Chef's tip: cook them slowly over a medium-low heat so the thick centre cooks through before the outside burns.
Old Bangkok coffee shops in Chinatown and Bang Rak still brew oliang through a long cotton sock, using a dark blend of coffee roasted with corn, soybeans, rice and sesame that gives it a toasty, almost cocoa-like flavour. It is served black, heavily sweetened and poured over crushed ice in tall glasses, a mid-morning pick-me-up for market traders. Look for any Thai 'oliang powder' blend in Asian shops, or mix dark coffee with roasted grains as below. It contains caffeine, so it is not one for children. Chef's tip: adding sugar after chilling is the mistake; dissolve it while the coffee is hot, or it stays gritty.
In homes from Monterrey to Guadalajara, a big bowl of creamy apple salad is chilling in the fridge on Christmas Eve, ready to sit alongside roast pork or turkey, and the kids usually go back for seconds as dessert. Crisp diced apple, juicy pineapple, celery for crunch, raisins and toasted pecans are folded into a sweet dressing of cream, condensed milk and a little soured cream. Many versions add marshmallows, but most contain gelatine, so they are left out here. Chef's tip: chill it for an hour before serving; the dressing thickens and the flavours marry.
Once made in the palace kitchens of Ayutthaya, these miniature chillies, mangosteens and mangoes now fill gift boxes in Bangkok bakeries for weddings, merit-making and Mother's Day. The inside is a smooth, sweet paste of mung beans and coconut milk; the outside is a thin, shiny skin of jelly, so each one tastes a little like marzipan in a glass coat. Making them is an afternoon project best shared. Chef's tip: a paste that is too wet won't hold a shape and slides off the stick; cook it until it pulls away from the pan in one soft ball.
Pink, warm and sweet, atole de fresa is a children's favourite in Mexico City and Irapuato, the strawberry capital of Guanajuato, sold in polystyrene cups alongside tamales for breakfast. Fresh strawberries are blended with milk and thickened with a little masa, which gives a gentle corn flavour under the fruit. It contains dairy. Chef's tip: blend the strawberries raw and add them at the end, so the drink keeps its bright colour.
In the markets of Puebla, Tlaxcala and Mexico City, cocoles are the plain, honest bread of the morning: diamond-shaped, deep brown from piloncillo, fragrant with anise and studded with sesame seeds on top. They are not very sweet, so people eat them with café de olla or split them for a cheese torta. Old bakers used lard; this version uses vegetable shortening, so it stays vegetarian and vegan. Chef's tip: steep the anise in the warm piloncillo syrup, so its flavour runs through every bite.
Jamoncillo turns up wrapped in waxed paper at sweet stalls from Puebla to Coahuila, and in San Luis Potosí and Guadalajara whole shops are given over to it. Milk and sugar are cooked down slowly with cinnamon until they turn into a pale caramel-coloured fudge that is firm, slightly grainy and rich, then pressed into bars and topped with pecan halves. Chef's tip: keep the heat moderate and stir all the time near the end, because the paste can catch and burn in seconds.
In the cold months, when guavas from Aguascalientes and Michoacán perfume the markets, street vendors in Mexico City ladle atole de guayaba from big steaming pots beside the tamal cart. Ripe guava is blended with milk, strained and thickened with cornflour into a pink, creamy, fragrant drink. It contains dairy. Chef's tip: add the blended guava only once the milk is thickened and off the boil, so the milk doesn't curdle.
Mendiants are little discs of chocolate topped with an almond, a hazelnut, a raisin and a dried fig, the four "beggars" of the Provençal Christmas, whose colours were said to match the robes of the four mendicant orders of monks; they are part of the thirteen desserts and a favourite home-made Christmas gift. The common mistake is letting the chocolate set before adding the toppings, so they fall off. Chef's tip: pipe only six discs at a time and top them straight away.
Tarte à la tomate is a summer favourite all over Burgundy, home of Dijon mustard, made from July to September for picnics, light lunches and apéritif. A crisp shortcrust case is spread thickly with mustard and grated cheese, covered with overlapping tomato slices and herbs and baked until the tomatoes are jammy; the mustard mellows into a warm, tangy layer. Comté and Gruyère are usually made with animal rennet; use a vegetarian hard cheese if you prefer. The common mistake is using watery tomatoes, which make the pastry soggy. Chef's tip: salt and drain the tomato slices on kitchen paper for 15 minutes before laying them on the tart.
The pompe à l'huile is the centrepiece of the thirteen desserts of Christmas Eve in Provence, a flat, slashed sweet bread made with olive oil and scented with orange-blossom water. Tradition says it must be torn by hand, never cut, or you will be ruined in the year to come, and it is eaten after the gros souper on 24 December. The common mistake is using a harsh, peppery olive oil, which overpowers it. Chef's tip: use a mild, fruity olive oil and brush more over the warm loaf.
Showing 24 of 3,470 recipes
Show more recipesPage 41 of 145
Mexican
Vietnamese
Thai
French
