Iftar classics and suhoor ideas: date drinks, haleem, harira, samosas, pakoras, fruit chaat and lentil soups. (56 recipes)
The famous layered pastry: crisp sheets of buttered fillo sandwich a filling of almonds, pistachios and cashews spiced with cinnamon, cardamom and saffron. After baking, the hot baklava is soaked in a syrup of sugar, honey, lemon, rose and cardamom and decorated with almond and pistachio flakes. Cut into 40 diamonds; serve with fresh cream or ice cream.
Unnakaya are named after the spindle-shaped pods of the silk-cotton tree, and the shape is the giveaway: torpedo-like rolls of mashed ripe nendran banana with a sweet surprise inside. In Thalassery, Kannur and Kozhikode, they are one of the dozens of sweet and savoury snacks laid out for nombu thura (breaking the fast) during Ramadan, and they also appear at Muslim weddings in Malabar. The filling is egg scrambled with sugar, grated coconut, cashews, raisins and cardamom in ghee, so this is a vegetarian-with-egg snack, not vegan. Fried in coconut oil, they come out caramel-brown and crisp, with a soft, fragrant inside. Some cooks fill with sweetened coconut only, so leave the egg out for an egg-free version. The usual mistake is using plantains that are not ripe enough: the dough stays starchy and cracks. Chef's tip: choose nendran that are black-spotted and soft, steam them whole in their skins and remove the black seeds from the centre, or the dough tastes gritty.
Thareed is the Ramadan iftar dish of the Emirates and Saudi Arabia, a meal of the Prophet's time that families still serve after sunset prayers. Lamb on the bone is stewed with tomato, baharat, turmeric and dried lime (loomi), then potatoes, courgettes and carrots soften in the broth. To serve, thin regag bread is torn and layered in a deep dish and the stew is ladled over so the bread soaks up the broth. For a vegetable version, leave out the lamb, use vegetable stock and add a tin of chickpeas with the vegetables. The usual mistake is pouring the stew over the bread too early: it turns to paste, so assemble just before eating. Chef's tip: pierce the dried limes before adding so they flavour the broth evenly.
Through Ramadan, the streets around Charminar fill with iftar stalls, and the small, papery keema samosas are among the first things to sell out before the sunset call to prayer. The filling is minced mutton cooked dry with onion, ginger-garlic, green chilli, mint and garam masala, folded into thin strips of samosa pastry and fried until they shatter. Families make them in batches and freeze them for the whole month. The common mistake is a wet filling, which makes the pastry soggy and can burst; cook the mince until every bit of liquid has gone. Chef's tip: cook the mince fully to at least 71 °C before filling, because the quick fry only crisps the pastry; it will not cook raw meat through.
In Java, the bubur kacang ijo seller pushes a cart through the neighbourhood from early morning, ladling warm mung bean porridge sweetened with palm sugar and topped with thick coconut milk. Many people eat it with a slice of white bread dunked in, and late-night stalls in Jakarta sell it alongside instant noodles. The common mistake is adding the sugar too early, which keeps the beans firm; cook them soft first. Chef's tip: cook the coconut milk separately with a pinch of salt and a pandan leaf and pour it on top, so the bowl has a sweet layer and a slightly salty, creamy one.
Where hilu-mur is dark and spiced, abreh abyad, white abreh, is its pale, gentle partner: a batter of white sorghum flour is left to sour lightly, then baked into thin cream-coloured flakes that are soaked in cold, sweetened water and served at iftar across northern Sudan. The drink is cloudy, refreshing and faintly tangy, a good way to rehydrate after a long day of fasting; some families add a splash of lime or a little cardamom. The overnight souring takes 12–18 hours and is not counted in the totals; it is non-alcoholic, and the flakes are dried hard on the griddle. Spreading the batter too thickly is the classic mistake, so work fast and thin. Chef's tip: make a big batch in one session; the dry flakes keep for months in a tin, so a jug of abreh is only an hour away.
Every evening during Ramadan, Khartoum tables are set with dates, juices and a big pot of shorba, a lamb broth full of carrots, potato and onion made creamy with peanut butter and sharpened with lime. It is the first thing many families eat after the dates, warm and gentle on an empty stomach, and it is made in quantity to share with neighbours. The soup is savoury, nutty and lightly spiced, thick enough to coat a spoon. Adding peanut butter straight into the pot is a mistake, as it clumps; whisk it smooth with hot broth first. Chef's tip: skim the broth carefully in the first 10 minutes for a clean taste, and finish with lime just before serving.
When the sunset call to prayer ends the Ramadan fast, many Saudi families in Riyadh and Jeddah reach first for dates, water and a cup of shorbat shoofan, a gentle, velvety oat soup scented with cardamom and black pepper. Most households make it with chicken broth and shreds of chicken; this vegetarian version uses a good vegetable stock and keeps the same comforting body. The oats thicken the tomato broth into something silky, light enough to eat before the main meal. People often add the oats too early and boil them into glue; they need only 10–15 minutes. Serve with lemon wedges and a few chopped herbs. Chef's tip: toast the oats in the pan for a minute before adding stock for a nuttier flavour.
Despite the name, Saudi champagne is completely alcohol-free: a jug of chilled apple juice topped up with sparkling water and loaded with sliced apple, orange, lemon and fresh mint. It is the drink of weddings, Eid gatherings and summer afternoons in Jeddah and Riyadh, poured over plenty of ice into tall glasses. It is light, fizzy and fruity, a little like a cider-free punch, and children love it. The most common mistake is adding the sparkling water hours ahead, so the bubbles are gone by the time guests arrive; mix the fruit and juice early, and add the fizz at the last moment. Chef's tip: bruise the mint lightly between your palms before it goes in so it releases its scent without turning bitter.
As sunset nears during Ramadan, mosques in Colombo, Beruwala and Kattankudy ladle out great pots of nombu kanji to queues of families carrying jugs and tiffin tins, and the same porridge is cooked at home to break the fast gently after dates and water. Rice and a little moong dal are simmered with onion, ginger, garlic, fenugreek and whole spices until soft, then enriched with coconut milk and a small amount of minced mutton or chicken that flavours the whole pot. It should be loose enough to sip from a cup, mild, savoury and comforting, with fresh coriander and mint stirred in at the end; for a vegetable version leave out the meat and add diced carrot, leeks and a handful of green peas. The thing that spoils it is letting it thicken into a stiff paste, because it keeps setting as it cools. Chef's tip: thin it with hot water just before serving until it pours easily from the ladle.
Dates are the first thing on the table when the azan sounds for iftar in Pakistan, and in many homes in Karachi and Islamabad the dates go straight into the blender with cold milk and a handful of soaked almonds, making a thick, caramel-sweet shake that restores energy quickly after a long summer fast. Soft, moist dates such as the Aseel from Khairpur in Sindh give the smoothest result, and the drink needs no added sugar at all. It is also a popular breakfast for children and a quick snack after school. The typical mistake is blending dry, hard dates straight from the packet, which leaves chewy fragments and a gritty shake. Chef's tip: soak the stoned dates and almonds in a little warm milk for 10 minutes first, and blend them to a smooth paste before adding the rest of the cold milk.
Pakistani grandmothers prescribe this deep brown drink for heatstroke, an upset stomach and the sluggish days of Ramadan fasting in June, and it is sold in tall glasses at sehri and iftar stalls in Karachi, Hyderabad and Lahore. Tamarind and dried aloo bukhara plums are soaked, simmered, mashed and strained into a concentrate, which is then sweetened, seasoned with black salt and roasted cumin and served poured over ice. The flavour is fruity, tart and slightly smoky from the plums, with the savoury lift of the salt. The concentrate keeps for a week in the fridge, so a big batch lasts through a heatwave. The usual problem is skipping the straining step and serving it thick with fibres and seeds, which makes it more like a chutney than a drink. Chef's tip: let the plums soak in the hot liquid for an hour after simmering, so they give up all their sourness and colour before you strain them.
An hour before sunset during Ramadan, the pavement of Chawkbazar disappears under trays of iftar food, and the one thing every family buys or makes is a bowl of chhola bhuna. It is chickpeas fried down with onion, ginger, garlic and cumin until almost dry, so each one is coated in a thick, dark masala rather than swimming in gravy. On the iftar plate it sits beside piyaju, beguni, muri and dates, and many people toss it with puffed rice, chopped onion and mustard oil into a quick muri makha. A frequent error is adding the chickpeas while the onions are still pale, which leaves the dish flat and sweet instead of deep and savoury. Chef's tip: finish with a pinch of bhaja moshla, dry-roasted cumin, coriander and chilli ground together, for the smoky taste of the street version.
Bowls of khoshaf sit on the iftar table all through Ramadan in Egyptian homes, and many people break their fast with a few dates and a glass of it before anything else. Dried apricots, prunes, figs and raisins soak overnight in lightly sweetened water until they swell, and the liquid turns into a fruity, amber syrup; toasted almonds and pistachios go on top for crunch. It is cool, gentle on an empty stomach and full of natural sugars. Soaking it on the counter in warm weather is the usual mistake, as it can start to ferment, so always soak it in the fridge. Chef's tip: add a teaspoon of orange blossom water just before serving rather than at the start; it fades overnight.
Ramadan in Cairo means trays of balah el sham glistening in sweet-shop windows, and plenty of families fry their own to serve after iftar alongside konafa and qatayef. Choux dough is piped through a star nozzle into finger lengths, fried until crisp and deep gold, then dropped into cool syrup, so the outside crackles and the inside stays hollow and custardy. It contains eggs. The mistake almost everyone makes once is frying in oil that is too hot: the outside browns in seconds while the inside stays raw and the fingers collapse. Start them in moderately hot oil and let them puff slowly. Chef's tip: beat the eggs in one at a time and stop when the dough falls from the spoon in a thick V; too much egg and the fingers flatten.
Before the sunset call to prayer in Ramadan, juice shops in Cairo's old quarters fill plastic bags and jugs with sobia for families to carry home, and it is one of the classic drinks for breaking the fast. It is milky white, sweet and smooth, with a gentle coconut flavour and a light body from the rice that makes it filling after a long day without food. This version simmers the rice-coconut milk briefly so it is safe to keep for a day or two in the fridge. Allow an hour for soaking the rice. The common mistake is not straining well, which leaves the drink gritty; push it through muslin. Chef's tip: chill it for at least 3 hours, because sobia tastes flat unless it is ice-cold.
Unlike the red chorba of the rest of the country, the 'white' chorba of Algiers has no tomato at all: chicken, onion and a cinnamon stick are cooked gently in butter, simmered with chickpeas and fine vermicelli, then thickened at the end with egg yolks and lemon. It is a classic of Ramadan tables in the capital, and is also cooked for guests at weddings and family gatherings. The soup is silky and pale gold, mild and comforting, with a soft lemony tang. Serve it with bread and a squeeze of extra lemon. Chef's tip: once the egg yolks are in, never let the soup boil; boiling is the common mistake that curdles it into scrambled threads.
Tamarind trees shade villages throughout Darfur and Kordofan, and their sticky brown pods become aradeib, one of the best-loved Sudanese cold drinks. The pulp is soaked, rubbed and strained, then sweetened to make a deep amber, puckeringly sour drink that cuts through rich food and is much loved at iftar through Ramadan. It is also drunk as a home remedy for upset stomachs and heat. Seedy block tamarind from any Asian or African shop works perfectly. Pouring boiling water straight onto the pulp and leaving it too long draws out a harsh, tannic edge, so use hot rather than boiling water and strain after an hour. Avoid squeezing the soaked tamarind through a cloth too hard; fibres get through and make the drink cloudy and gritty. Chef's tip: make a concentrate and keep it in the fridge for up to a week; dilute with cold water by the glass.
Weeks before Ramadan, households across Sudan fill with the smell of hilu-mur, literally 'sweet-bitter', as sorghum is sprouted, dried, ground and mixed with flour, dates and a heady spice blend, left to sour for a day, then spread paper-thin on a hot griddle into brittle reddish-brown flakes. Each evening during the month a handful is soaked in water, strained and sweetened, giving the dark, tangy, clove-and-ginger-scented drink that breaks the fast. The souring is short, like a sourdough, and the flakes are cooked dry; the drink is non-alcoholic and served to the whole family. The full process takes about 5 days: 3 days to sprout, 1 to dry and a night to sour, so only active and cooking time are in the totals. Many people buy ready-made flakes from Sudanese shops. Discard any grain that smells musty or shows mould while sprouting. The usual mistake is pouring the batter too thick on the griddle; the flakes should be paper-thin to dry crisp. Chef's tip: spread the batter as thinly as you can; thick flakes stay chewy and go mouldy in storage.
Lebanese sweet shops in Tripoli and Saida fry trays of znoud el sit every evening during Ramadan, and families queue for them after iftar. Filo is rolled around a thick, set milk cream (a home version of ashta), baked or fried until shatteringly crisp, then dipped in cold syrup and dusted with ground pistachios. The contrast of crackling pastry and cool, fragrant cream is the whole point, so eat them within an hour or two of filling. Common mistake: filling with warm cream; it leaks and makes the pastry soggy, so chill it until firm. Chef's tip: brush with clarified butter rather than whole butter — it browns evenly without burning and keeps the rolls crisp longer.
Rziza is one of the showpieces of the Ramadan table in the old imperial cities: a soft dough is stretched into a sheet, rolled up and pulled into a long, thin cord, then wound around the fingers into a skein, flattened into a nest and griddled until crisp outside and tender within. At iftar the nests are pulled apart into their fine strands and drenched in warm honey and melted butter, to eat with harira, dates and mint tea. Making it takes patience and practice; the first one or two may tear, and that is fine. Chef's tip: keep everything well oiled, your hands, the board and the dough balls; too little oil is the common mistake, and the dough then tears instead of stretching.
Adas bi hamod — 'lentils with sourness' — is a Lenten staple in Lebanese Christian homes and a thrifty weeknight pot everywhere else, especially in the south. Brown lentils simmer with chard, potato and a fried paste of garlic and coriander until the broth turns thick, then a generous amount of lemon makes it tangy and refreshing. It is somewhere between a soup and a stew and is just as good warm or at room temperature with bread. Common mistake: adding the lemon at the start; the acid stops the lentils softening, so add it at the end. Chef's tip: mash a ladleful of lentils against the side of the pot to give the broth body without any flour.
In the lanes of old Damascus and Aleppo, the erk sous seller is heard before he is seen, clacking brass cups as he walks with a great curved jug strapped to his back. His drink is liquorice root, slowly dripped through with cold water, dark, earthy, faintly bitter and naturally sweet, poured with a flourish over the shoulder during Ramadan iftars and hot afternoons. At home a sieve and a cloth do the job. The mistake people make is pouring boiling water over the root, which pulls out harsh bitterness; cold water and patience give a smooth, foamy drink. Liquorice root raises blood pressure if you drink a lot of it, so keep to a glass or two a day and skip it if you are pregnant or have high blood pressure. Chef's tip: a pinch of bicarbonate of soda in the damp root gives the drink its traditional thick, frothy head.
As soon as Ramadan begins, bakeries from Konya to Istanbul stack up packets of güllaç, the dried, almost transparent starch sheets that give this dessert its name. Soaked layer by layer in warm sweetened milk scented with rosewater, then filled with walnuts, the sheets turn soft and silky, and the dessert is served chilled after the iftar meal, often topped with pomegranate seeds. Common mistake: drenching the sheets in hot milk, which makes them dissolve into mush; the milk should be just warm. Chef's tip: make it at least 4 hours ahead, ideally overnight; it firms up enough to cut into clean slices.
Kallaj appears in the sweet shops of Beirut and Tripoli only during Ramadan, when bakers sell paper-thin starch sheets to wrap around cream or cheese and fry for after iftar. Home cooks recreate it with filo: square parcels of thick milk cream, baked until they crackle, then soaked briefly in rose and orange-blossom syrup and finished with pistachios. Serve them warm, a few minutes after the syrup goes on, while the outside is still crisp. Common mistake: drowning them in syrup and leaving them to sit; spoon it over just before serving. Chef's tip: a cheese version — fill with half mozzarella, half unsalted ricotta — is just as traditional; choose a vegetarian-rennet mozzarella if you need it.
Through Ramadan, street vendors in Jerusalem's Old City and in Nablus walk the alleys with brass urns of kharroub on their backs, clacking cups to announce the cold carob drink that breaks the fast. Made by soaking crushed carob pods (or more easily from carob molasses), it is dark, chocolatey-caramel in taste, lightly sweet and very refreshing over ice. Common mistake: boiling the pods hard, which makes the drink bitter and cloudy; soak and simmer gently. Chef's tip: a few drops of orange-blossom water just before serving lifts the earthy carob flavour.
Layali Lubnan — 'Lebanese nights' — is the cool, wobbly pudding Beirut families make for Ramadan evenings and summer gatherings, because it is quick and feeds a crowd from one dish. A base of milk thickened with fine semolina and scented with orange blossom is topped with a thick layer of cream, then finished with pistachios, rose petals and a trickle of sugar syrup at the table. It is gentle and milky rather than very sweet; the syrup lets everyone choose. Common mistake: pouring the cream on while the semolina is still hot; it melts in and the layers blur. Chef's tip: whisk the semolina in slowly and keep whisking for the first minute — that is what keeps it perfectly smooth.
Damascus is famous for its apricots, and much of the summer harvest is pressed into thin orange sheets of apricot leather called qamar al-din. In Ramadan, almost every Syrian home soaks a sheet overnight and blends it into a thick, velvety drink to break the fast — it is sweet, slightly tart and full of energy after a long day. Serve it chilled, sometimes with a few soaked pine nuts on top. Common mistake: blending without soaking long enough; the leather needs time to soften or the drink is gritty. Chef's tip: add a splash of orange blossom water and a squeeze of lemon to wake up the apricot flavour.
Hot sambousek bi jibneh are the first thing to vanish from a Syrian mezze spread or a Ramadan iftar table, where Damascene and Aleppan cooks fry dozens at a time. A tender olive-oil pastry is folded around white cheese, parsley and nigella seeds, then crimped with a fork or twisted into a rope edge and fried or baked until blistered and golden. Eat them warm, when the cheese is soft and stringy. Common mistake: using a salty cheese straight from the brine — soak akkawi or halloumi for an hour first. Chef's tip: mix a little mozzarella into the filling for that stretchy pull. Akkawi, halloumi and mozzarella are often made with animal rennet; use vegetarian-rennet versions if needed.
Shaabiyat is one of the jewels of Aleppo's pastry shops, made in huge trays for weddings and for Eid visits: buttery filo folded into triangles around a cool, thick milk cream, baked until golden and shatteringly crisp, then splashed with syrup and topped with ground pistachio. The cream stays cool and soft inside the crackling layers. Serve within a few hours of baking. Common mistake: letting the filo dry out while you work — keep the sheets under a damp tea towel. Chef's tip: syrup must be cold and the pastry hot when they meet, so it soaks in without making the layers soggy.
When the sunset call to prayer ends the Ramadan fast in Amman, the first spoonfuls are very often shorbat freekeh, a nourishing broth thickened with cracked green wheat that was roasted in the field while still young. The smoke from that roasting gives the soup its distinctive, almost barbecue-like depth, while chicken, cinnamon and cardamom keep it gentle on an empty stomach. It is followed by dates, salad and the main dish. The usual mistake is not picking over and rinsing the freekeh, which can hold tiny stones and chaff. Chef's tip: toast the rinsed freekeh in butter for a couple of minutes before adding the broth; it brings out the smokiness.
During Ramadan in Damascus, street sellers in bright waistcoats pour tamar hindi from tall brass jugs on their backs, clinking cups to call buyers before iftar. The drink is a deep brown infusion of tamarind, sweetened and sharpened with lemon and a touch of rose or orange blossom, served ice cold to quench a day's thirst. It is fruity, tangy and refreshing, and made in a big batch to keep in the fridge. Common mistake: boiling the tamarind hard — gentle soaking gives a clean taste, while boiling makes it muddy. Chef's tip: strain twice, the second time through a cloth, for a clear, glossy drink.
Chebakia are the dark, sticky, flower-shaped cookies that every Moroccan family associates with Ramadan; women in Fez, Meknes and Casablanca spend a whole day in the weeks before the holy month folding hundreds of them, and they are served at iftar with harira and dates. The dough is scented with anise, cinnamon, saffron and toasted sesame, cut into rectangles, folded into a rose, fried and dropped straight into hot, perfumed honey. They are crisp, chewy and very sweet. Chef's tip: work in small batches and keep the honey hot but not boiling; hot honey soaks in properly, while cool honey just coats the outside.
Shahi tukda, the 'royal piece', comes from the Mughal kitchens of Old Delhi, and you'll still find trays of it around Jama Masjid during Ramzan, eaten after the evening meal, and at Eid feasts. Thick slices of bread are fried in ghee until crisp and golden, dipped briefly in cardamom and saffron syrup, then covered with rabri, milk slowly reduced until thick and full of creamy flakes. The bread stays crisp at the edges and soft in the middle. It's rich, so small pieces go a long way. Chef's tip: start the rabri first and let it simmer while you fry the bread; it takes the longest and needs only an occasional stir.
Harees is one of the oldest dishes of the Arabian Gulf, made in the UAE, Oman and Saudi Arabia for Ramadan iftar, Eid and weddings, when big pots are stirred for hours and shared with neighbours. Whole wheat and chicken cook slowly together until the grain bursts and the meat falls apart, then everything is beaten to a smooth, sticky porridge and finished with ghee and a little cinnamon. It is soft, mild and very comforting. Chef's tip: beat it hard with a wooden spoon (or briefly with a stick blender) at the end; that is what gives harees its elastic texture.
Delhi's fruit chaat wallahs set up their carts in the afternoons with towers of guava, papaya, apples and bananas, plus roasted sweet potato, and chop whatever you point at into a leaf bowl. Then comes the part that makes it chaat rather than fruit salad: a big shake of tangy chaat masala, black salt and roasted cumin, a squeeze of lime, sometimes a pinch of chilli. It's a refreshing mid-afternoon snack in summer, and a regular sight on Ramzan iftar spreads too. The salt and spice make sweet fruit taste even sweeter. Chef's tip: season it just before eating; once the salt goes on, the fruit starts weeping juice and goes soft within 15 minutes.
Chorba frik is the soup that breaks the fast in Algerian homes every evening of Ramadan, from Algiers to Constantine, and it is just as common in Libya as shorba. Frik is young green wheat, roasted and cracked, which gives the tomato broth a smoky, nutty depth. It usually cooks with lamb; here chickpeas, celery and courgette carry it. Serve with lemon wedges and bread. Chef's tip: add the frik only once the broth is boiling and stir for the first minute, or it sinks and sticks.
During Ramadan in Beirut and Sidon, street sellers ladle jallab from big glass jars at sunset, and families keep a bottle of the dark syrup in the fridge all summer. Made from date and grape molasses with a hint of rose water, it tastes of caramel and dried fruit, and it is served over crushed ice with a spoon for the pine nuts and golden raisins floating on top. Bottled jallab gets its smoky edge from incense smoke; this home version skips that and is made straight from the two molasses. Chef's tip: soak the raisins in the drink for five minutes before serving so they plump up and sink less.
When the call to prayer ends the fast during Ramadan, tables from Tangier to Ouarzazate are set with a bowl of harira, dates and chebakia. This tomato soup is thick with lentils, chickpeas and a great deal of coriander, parsley and celery, and gets its silky body from a flour-and-water slurry stirred in at the end. Many families cook it with a little lamb; this meat-free version uses a well-browned onion and tomato base and olive oil instead of smen, so it is fully vegan and still deeply savoury. Chef's tip: the soup should coat a spoon like thin custard; add the flour slurry slowly while stirring and stop when it reaches that point. Variation: for the meat version, brown 250 g diced lamb with the onion at the start.
Haleem is cooked in vast pots across Pakistan in the month of Muharram and during Ramadan, when neighbours queue with bowls in Karachi, Lahore and Hyderabad. Cracked wheat, barley and several lentils cook for hours with beef until everything is beaten into one thick, stretchy, deeply savoury porridge. Each bowl is finished with crisp fried onions, ginger, green chilli, mint and lemon, so everyone builds their own. It takes time but freezes well, so make a big pot. Chef's tip: beat the haleem hard with a wooden spoon or a hand blender on short pulses; you want long meaty threads, not a smooth purée.
In İzmir and along the Aegean coast, lokma is the sweet of shared moments: families hire a lokma master with a big cauldron to fry hundreds of these golden balls on the street after a funeral or to mark an anniversary, handing them out to anyone passing by, and stalls sell them by the paper cup all year. Each fritter is a little ball of yeasted batter, crisp outside, hollow and soft within, soaked briefly in lemon syrup so it crunches before it melts. This home version needs no eggs or butter, and kids love squeezing out the balls. Eat them warm, on their own or with a sprinkle of cinnamon or crushed pistachios. Chef's tip: dip your spoon or fingers in a cup of water before each ball; the batter then slides off cleanly into round shapes instead of stringy tails.
When the sun goes down during Ramadan in Dubai, Sharjah or Muscat, plates of luqaimat appear on iftar tables and in mosque courtyards. The little balls of yeasted batter, scented with saffron and cardamom, are fried until crisp and golden outside and soft as a cloud inside, then drizzled with dibs (date syrup) and scattered with sesame. Unlike syrup-soaked fritters, they are glazed only lightly, so they stay crunchy. Chef's tip: a teaspoon of oil on your thumb and a wet spoon stop the sticky batter clinging, so the balls drop round into the oil.
If one soup feeds Turkey, it is this. Mercimek çorbası is on the counter of every lokanta (tradesmen's restaurant), in factory and hospital canteens, and it is often what Turks eat for breakfast on a cold morning or to break the fast in Ramadan. Red lentils simmered with onion, carrot and potato are blended until velvety, then each bowl gets a squeeze of lemon and a swirl of butter sizzled with Aleppo pepper and dried mint. It is warming, cheap and filling. Chef's tip: rinse the lentils in several changes of water until it runs clear; it washes off the starch that makes the soup foam and taste dusty.
Qatayef only really appear in Egypt during Ramadan: in the weeks of the fast, street vendors in Cairo and Alexandria set up big griddles and pour rows of small pancakes that are cooked on one side only, then sold by the kilo for families to fill at home. The pale, bubbly side is folded around chopped nuts and raisins (or a creamy ashta filling), sealed into half-moons, baked or fried until crisp and dipped in syrup. They are eaten after iftar with tea. Chef's tip: cook the pancakes on one side only and don't flip them; the uncooked top stays sticky and is what glues the edges shut.
During Ramadan almost every household in Pakistan breaks the fast at sunset with a jug of this bright red sherbet on the table, from Karachi apartments to village courtyards in Punjab. It is made with the herbal rose syrup sold as Rooh Afza (any rose sherbet syrup works), stirred into ice-cold water with a squeeze of lemon and a spoonful of swollen basil seeds (tukh malanga) that are said to cool the body after a long, hot day without water. Some families make it with cold milk instead, which turns it pink and creamy. The mistake people make is adding the basil seeds dry; they clump into hard lumps, so soak them first. Chef's tip: chill the water and syrup well before mixing so you need less ice and the sherbet does not taste watered down.
Sambuus are the triangles of crisp pastry Somali families fry by the hundred during Ramadan, filling them with minced beef, onion, green chilli, coriander and xawaash; trays of them sit on every iftar table from Hargeisa to Toronto. The filling must be dry, and the pastry thin. The mistake is a wet filling, which steams the pastry from the inside and makes it soggy; cook the mince until all the liquid has gone. Chef's tip: shop-bought spring roll pastry, cut into strips, makes good thin sambuus at home.
Brik is Tunisia's crackling street and Ramadan snack: a sheet of paper-thin malsouka pastry folded around a raw egg, mashed potato, parsley and capers, and fried for a minute until the shell shatters and the yolk is still runny. In Tunis and La Goulette it is eaten by hand, held by the corners and bitten carefully to avoid egg on the chin. The classic filling adds tuna; this version keeps it vegetarian with a little cheese. It is different from Moroccan briouats, which are small rolled parcels baked or fried with a cooked filling. Chef's tip: have the oil hot and ready before cracking the egg onto the pastry; once the egg sits, it soaks through the sheet.
Sellou (also called sfouf or zmita) is made in big batches across Morocco for Ramadan, for new mothers and for Eid, and is served in a mound beside mint tea. Flour is toasted slowly in a dry pan until it turns the colour of sand and smells like biscuits, then mixed with ground toasted almonds and sesame, anise, cinnamon, butter and honey. The result is a crumbly, nutty, not-too-sweet sweet that you eat by the spoonful, or press into balls. It keeps for weeks. Chef's tip: toast the flour patiently over a low heat and keep it moving; scorched flour tastes bitter and the whole batch is lost.
All over India, fruit sellers with handcarts chop a plate of fruit chaat to order, and in Kolkata the evening carts near New Market and Gariahat pile guava, apple, papaya, banana, pomegranate and cucumber into a leaf bowl with chaat masala, black salt and lime. During Ramzan it appears at iftar, and in summer it is sold with a sprinkle of chilli. It is sweet, salty, sour and a little hot all at once, so it tastes nothing like a dessert fruit salad. Chef's tip: use at least one crunchy fruit (guava, apple or pear) and one soft one (banana or papaya) for contrast.
Um Ali is Egypt's much-loved warm bread pudding. Here toasted bread is layered with bananas, pistachios, almonds, walnuts and raisins, then covered with saffron and cardamom milk mixed with sweetened whipped cream and baked until bubbling and golden. Rich, creamy and comforting; serve warm.
Thin, crackly rolls of buttered fillo pastry wrapped around a filling of walnuts, almonds, sugar, cinnamon and clove, baked until light golden and then bathed in a warm syrup scented with lemon rind, cinnamon and cloves. Like little baklava fingers, sweet and nutty. Serve with coffee or mint tea; they keep well for a few days.
Tamia is the Egyptian cousin of falafel: soaked raw chickpeas are ground with dill, coriander, onion, garlic, chilli and cumin, shaped into small patties, coated with sesame seeds and deep-fried until crisp and golden outside and green and fluffy inside. Serve hot with coconut and tamarind chutneys, or tuck them into pitta with salad.
Konafa (kunafa) is a celebration sweet of shredded kataifi pastry tossed in butter and baked in two layers around a filling of coconut, almonds, pistachios and mixed peel with glacé cherries. The hot pastry is drenched in cold rose-water syrup and pressed so it holds together, then cut into squares. Crisp, syrupy and nutty; serve cold with fresh cream or ice cream.
A fresh, crunchy Lebanese salad of tomatoes, cucumber, rocket, celery, spring onions and green pepper with lots of mint and parsley, tossed just before serving with crisp toasted pitta and a sharp lemon, garlic and olive oil dressing. Serve as a starter or alongside falafel and dips.
Gujarati-style samosas: thin, crisp pastry pockets folded into triangles and filled with peas, potato and carrot, sweet, sour and spicy with lemon, sugar, chilli and cinnamon-clove powder. Make the samosa chapaties (pastry) from the recipe in the Basics section. Serve with lemon wedges and green, red and tamarind chutneys.
Bite-sized samosas filled with a tangy, sweet and spicy mix of crushed sev, fried lentils, nuts, crisps and sweet mango pickle. 'Chatpatta' means tangy and spicy. They keep for up to a month in an air-tight container, so they're perfect for parties and Diwali. Instead of making each savoury, you can use leftover farsan like chevdo, bhusu or gathiya.
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