21 recipes that use chopped tomatoes, with photos, step-by-step instructions and cook times. The quickest, Ojja with merguez, takes 30 minutes. It is most often cooked with garlic, onion and carrot.
Run out of chopped tomatoes? Fresh ripe tomatoes, chopped: about 6 per 400g tin.
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A North Indian staple that comes together from the store cupboard. Toasted cumin, slow-softened onion and a good spoonful of garam masala give tinned chickpeas real depth. Serve with rice, naan or a stack of warm rotis.
A one-pan breakfast that works just as well for dinner. Peppers and onions are cooked down with cumin and smoked paprika, then eggs are nestled in and poached until the whites set and the yolks stay runny. Bring the pan to the table with plenty of bread for dipping.
Sweet potato is not old Moroccan tradition, but today it is sold in every souk from Agadir to Meknes and turns up in modern home tagines alongside the classic chickpeas, dried apricots and ras el hanout. This version leans on the sweet-and-spiced style of Fez and Marrakech cooking: the sweet potato melts slightly into the sauce, the chickpeas keep their bite and a handful of apricots adds little pockets of tang. It is filling enough for a weekend lunch with couscous or bread, and it reheats beautifully the next day. Chef's tip: bloom the ras el hanout in the oil for 30 seconds before the liquid goes in; raw spice blends taste dusty, cooked ones taste round.
Caponata is the agrodolce dish of Sicily: cubes of fried aubergine, crisp celery, green olives and capers in a glossy tomato sauce sharpened with vinegar and softened with a little sugar. Palermo families keep a bowl in the fridge through late summer and eat it at room temperature as an antipasto, a side or on bread, and many say it is best on the second day. The sweet-sour balance shows the Arab influence on Sicilian cooking. Chef's tip: blanch the celery for 2 minutes before frying; it keeps a pleasant crunch without tasting raw.
Ribollita means 'reboiled': a Tuscan peasant soup of cannellini beans, cavolo nero and other vegetables, layered with stale bread and heated again the next day until thick enough to eat with a fork. Florentines eat it through the cold months, when cavolo nero is sweetest after the first frosts, finished with a green thread of new-season olive oil. Make it a day ahead, because the reboil is the point. Chef's tip: when reheating, let the bottom catch very slightly before stirring; that toasty edge is what Tuscans love about day-two ribollita.
Late summer in the Damascus and Beirut markets means piles of tiny okra pods, and bamieh, okra stewed in tomato with coriander and garlic, follows on many family tables. This meat-free version is the one Lebanese Christians cook during Lent and serve with vermicelli rice or flatbread. Small, whole pods are the secret: kept intact and seared first, they stay tender without turning slimy, and a squeeze of lemon at the end sharpens the sauce. Chef's tip: trim only the very top of each cap without cutting into the pod; a pierced pod lets the sticky juice escape into the sauce.
Gigantes plaki is a tray of fat, creamy beans baked in a thick tomato sauce until the top catches and wrinkles. You find it in every taverna's display of oven dishes, on meze tables with bread and olives, and in home kitchens during Lent. The best beans come from Kastoria and Prespes in northern Greece, but any large dried butter beans work. The beans are boiled first, then baked with onions, carrot, celery, garlic and dill. Serve warm or at room temperature with feta for those who eat dairy and crusty bread. Start the night before: the beans need to soak for at least 12 hours. Chef's tip: don't salt the boiling water or add tomato until the beans are already tender; acid and salt too early are the common mistake that keeps the skins tough.
Fasolada is sometimes called the national dish of Greece, and it is the soup that fed families through winters and long Lenten fasts. It is humble and filling: small white beans simmered slowly with carrot, celery, onion and tomato until the broth turns thick and creamy, then finished with a generous pour of raw olive oil. On a cold weekday it is dinner on its own, eaten with olives, pickled peppers, raw onion and bread. Soak the beans the night before. Chef's tip: let it simmer gently with the lid ajar and stir now and then so some beans break and thicken the broth; boiling it hard is the common mistake that splits the beans and leaves the soup thin.
Mesaqa'a shares a name with Greek moussaka but is a different dish: there's no béchamel and no cheese, just fried aubergine slices baked in a garlicky tomato sauce with green peppers and chilli until soft and jammy. In Cairo it is a weekday family dish and a favourite during the summer heat and in the Coptic fasting seasons, when many families eat no animal products; it tastes even better the next day at room temperature, scooped up with baladi bread. Chef's tip: salt the aubergine and press it dry, then roast or shallow-fry it until truly golden; pale aubergine makes a watery, grey mesaqa'a.
Red red is Ghanaian chop-bar comfort food, eaten at lunchtime from Kumasi to Cape Coast, and it gets its name from its two reds: the bean stew glowing with palm oil and the fried ripe plantain served alongside. Black-eyed beans simmer in a tomato and onion sauce until creamy, then a sprinkle of gari on top adds crunch. It is often made with smoked fish or momoni; this meat-free version uses smoked paprika for the same savoury edge. Chef's tip: choose plantains with mostly black skins; they fry up sweet and caramelised, the perfect partner for the salty stew.
Bunny chow was born in Durban, among the city's Indian community, where curry in a hollowed loaf became the takeaway lunch of dockworkers and caddies. Many Durbanites say the first bunnies were vegetarian, filled with sugar beans, and cafés around Grey Street still sell a bean bunny beside the mutton one. A quarter loaf of unsliced white bread is scooped out and filled with a fiery, red Durban curry, with the scooped-out bread (the 'virgin') put back on top for dunking. It is eaten with your hands, with grated carrot and chilli salad on the side. Chef's tip: the curry needs to be thick and saucy, not watery; a runny curry soaks through the loaf before you've finished the first bite.
Sapporo's soup curry was born in the city's cafés in the 1970s and became a craze in the 2000s, when hundreds of small shops opened across Hokkaido's capital, each letting you pick a heat level from 1 to 30. It is nothing like the thick roux curry most of Japan knows: the broth is as thin as soup, aromatic with cumin, cardamom and garlic, and the vegetables arrive large and separately roasted, so each keeps its own colour and bite. Locals eat it in the long Hokkaido winter with a plate of rice on the side, taking a spoonful of rice and dunking it into the broth. Chef's tip: roast or fry the vegetables apart from the broth and only meet them in the bowl. The contrast of crisp-edged vegetables and hot, loose broth is the whole point.
Ciorbă is the sour soup that opens a Romanian lunch, from canteens in Cluj to Sunday tables in Moldavia, and the vegetable version is cooked all through the fasting weeks before Easter and Christmas. Root vegetables, beans and peppers simmer in a light broth that is soured at the end with borș, the fermented wheat-bran liquid sold in bottles at Romanian shops, or with lemon juice. Fresh lovage (leuștean) gives its unmistakable celery-like perfume. It is eaten piping hot with bread and a fresh green chilli on the side. Chef's tip: add the borș only at the end and let it come back just to a simmer; boiling it hard dulls the sour tang.
Tocăniță is the everyday stew of Romanian home cooking, and the mushroom version is a fixture of the Orthodox fasting days, when Transylvanian cooks use forest mushrooms gathered in the Apuseni hills and city cooks use button mushrooms from the market. Onions, garlic, tomato, white wine and thyme cook down into a thick, glossy sauce, without the sour cream and paprika of a Hungarian paprikás. It is always eaten with hot mămăligă and a spoon of the sauce over the top. Chef's tip: brown the mushrooms in batches in a hot pan; crowding them is the usual mistake, and they then stew grey in their own water instead of turning golden.
Gyuvech takes its name from the glazed clay pot it is baked in, and in late summer in the villages of the Rhodopes and the Thracian plain it is slid into the bread oven packed with peppers, aubergine, okra, green beans, potatoes and tomato, seasoned with paprika and the herb chubritsa (summer savory). In the last minutes, eggs are often cracked over the top and baked until just set. It is served straight from the pot with bread to scoop up the juices. Unlike Greek briam, the vegetables stew in a paprika broth under a lid rather than roasting in oil. Chef's tip: put a clay pot into a cold oven; heating it first is the usual mistake and can crack it.
Stifado is the Sunday stew of Greek home cooks, especially in winter, and on islands like Corfu and Crete it fills village tavernas long before lunch. Chunks of beef braise slowly with a mountain of whole small onions, tomato, cinnamon, cloves and bay until the onions turn sweet and jammy. Traditionally red wine and red wine vinegar go in; this recipe uses wine, but you can swap it for the same amount of beef stock plus an extra tablespoon of vinegar and lose nothing important. Serve with crusty bread, rice or orzo. Chef's tip: use as many onions by weight as meat; the onions are the point of the dish, not a garnish.
Ropa vieja means 'old clothes', after the ragged strands the beef falls into, and it is the dish Cubans name first when asked about home cooking. Families in Havana and Camagüey make a big pot on a weekend: flank steak is simmered until soft, pulled into threads and then stewed again in a sofrito of peppers, onion, tomato, cumin and green olives. It is eaten with white rice, black beans and fried ripe plantain, and it tastes even better reheated the next day. The common mistake is cutting the beef across the grain before cooking; leave it whole so it shreds into long strands. Chef's tip: keep the cooking liquid from the first simmer and use it instead of water in the sauce, because it carries most of the beefy flavour.
In Cape Town's Bo-Kaap, the brightly painted quarter under Signal Hill, Cape Malay families cook this curry for Sunday lunch and for Eid. It is gentler than an Indian curry: fragrant with cinnamon, cardamom, cloves and fennel, sweetened with dried apricots and a spoon of apricot chutney, and soured with a splash of vinegar and tomato. Potatoes simmer in the sauce with the chicken. Serve it with yellow rice (geelrys), sambals and chutney. A common mistake is adding the potatoes too late, so they stay hard in a finished curry; they go in with the chicken. Chef's tip: let the whole spices sizzle in the oil until the cinnamon unfurls before adding the onion, which builds the sweet perfume of the dish.
Jambalaya feeds crowds at church fairs and Mardi Gras parties all over south Louisiana, from Baton Rouge to New Orleans. This is the Creole or 'red' style from the city, with tomato in the pot; the Cajun country version leaves it out. Chicken thighs and smoked andouille (a pork sausage) are browned first, then rice cooks in the spiced tomato stock with the holy trinity, and prawns go in at the end. Chef's tip: once the rice is in, resist stirring; just turn it once halfway so the bottom does not catch.
Domoda is the stew that most families in the Gambia, from Banjul to the riverside villages upcountry, cook several times a week. Beef is browned and simmered with tomato and onion, then smooth peanut butter is stirred in until the sauce turns thick, glossy and rich, with pumpkin and sweet potato melting into it. It is spooned over white rice with a squeeze of lime, and a scotch bonnet floats in the pot for whoever likes it hot. The mistake to avoid is adding the peanut butter too early and leaving it unstirred, as it catches and burns on the bottom; add it once the beef is nearly tender and stir often. Chef's tip: whisk the peanut butter with a ladle of hot broth before it goes in, so it melts smoothly instead of forming lumps.
Ojja is the quick supper of Tunis cafés and home kitchens: a pan of tomato, peppers, garlic and harissa, cooked down until thick, with slices of spicy lamb merguez and eggs set softly on top. It is scooped up with crusty bread straight from the pan. The mistake is stirring the eggs in too early; they should go in once the sauce is thick and be left alone to just set. Chef's tip: brown the merguez first so its spiced fat flavours the sauce. If you can't get merguez, use any spicy lamb or beef sausage.
