64 recipes that use egg yolk, with photos, step-by-step instructions and cook times. The quickest, Spaghetti alla carbonara, takes 25 minutes. It is most often cooked with plain flour, egg and caster sugar.
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Rounds of bread spread with cream cheese, soaked in egg custard and baked gently in a water bath until just set. Soft and mild, it suits babies of 8–18 months and makes a good light lunch for toddlers too. Serve warm.
Japanese soufflé cheesecake (スフレチーズケーキ) is soft, airy and barely sweet, somewhere between a cheesecake and a chiffon sponge, and it wobbles when it comes out of the oven. It became popular in Japanese bakeries in the 1960s and later spread from Osaka and Fukuoka shops around the world. Cream cheese is folded with stiffly whipped meringue and baked slowly in a water bath so it rises without cracking. It takes patience, but the result melts in the mouth. Chef's tip: whip the meringue only to soft-to-medium peaks and bake low and slow in the water bath. Over-whipped egg whites and a hot oven are the two reasons this cake cracks and then collapses.
Crema catalana is the classic dessert of Catalonia, served in shallow round earthenware dishes with a glassy layer of burnt sugar on top. Traditionally it was made for Saint Joseph's Day on 19 March, which is why it is also called crema de Sant Josep. It is older than French crème brûlée and different in style: made with milk rather than cream, lightly thickened with cornflour and flavoured with lemon zest and cinnamon, so it is lighter and fresher. Catalans caramelise the top with a hot iron disc called a 'cremador'; a cook's blowtorch does the same job. Chef's tip: burn the sugar just before serving, not earlier; the crust stays crisp only for about 20–30 minutes before the moisture of the custard softens it.
Flan de huevo is the most common dessert in Spain: on the menú del día in every town, from Galicia to the Canary Islands, and made at home for Sunday lunch. It is simply eggs, milk and sugar, flavoured with a little lemon zest and vanilla, baked gently in a water bath over a layer of dark caramel. When it's turned out, the caramel becomes a glossy sauce running down the sides. Spanish flan is firmer and more eggy than French crème caramel, and it slices cleanly. Chef's tip: bake it slowly in a water bath and stop when the centre still wobbles slightly like jelly; overbaking leaves little holes and a grainy texture, the sign of a flan cooked too hot or too long.
Quindim is a jewel of Bahian sweets: small, shiny, intensely yellow custards made from egg yolks, sugar and grated coconut. It goes back to Portugal's convent sweets, rich in yolks, which cooks in colonial Bahia combined with the coconut of the Brazilian coast. When baked, the coconut sinks to form a chewy base and the yolks set into a silky, translucent top that becomes the shining crown when unmoulded. Chef's tip: strain the yolks so there are no traces of white or the chalazae (the stringy bits). Egg white makes quindim pale and rubbery instead of glossy, deep gold and smooth.
Suspiro a la limeña, 'the sigh of a Lima woman', is the city's grand dessert from colonial times, said to have been named by the poet José Gálvez for its sweetness. A thick manjar blanco, milk slowly cooked down to a silky caramel cream and enriched with egg yolks, is topped with a cloud of glossy Italian meringue flavoured with port and dusted with cinnamon. It is very sweet and very rich, so serve it in small glasses. Make it in the morning for the evening. Chef's tip: the manjar is ready when a spoon dragged across the bottom of the pan leaves a clear path for a moment; undercooked, it stays runny and the meringue sinks into it.
Every Malaysian household seems to have someone who makes pineapple tarts in the weeks before Chinese New Year or Hari Raya, and the plastic tubs of them go round every visit and open house. In Hokkien the pineapple, 'ong lai', sounds like 'fortune comes', which is why they matter so much at the New Year. This is the rolled 'nastar' style: a little ball of golden, slow-cooked pineapple jam, scented with cinnamon, star anise and clove, wrapped in rich, crumbly butter pastry. Chef's tip: grate the pineapple by hand rather than blending it; the fibres give the jam its chewy body.
Mooncakes are exchanged and eaten all over China at the Mid-Autumn Festival, when families gather under the full moon with tea and fruit. The Cantonese style, from Guangdong and Hong Kong, has a thin, shiny brown crust around a dense, sweet filling of lotus seed paste or red bean paste; this vegetarian version leaves out the salted duck egg yolks. You need a mooncake press (50–75 g size). Chef's tip: rest the baked mooncakes in an airtight tin for 2 days; the crust softens and turns glossy, a change bakers call 'returning oil'.
Daan taat are the pride of Hong Kong bakeries and cha chaan teng, where they come out of the oven several times a day and are eaten warm with a glass of milk tea. Unlike Portuguese tarts, the custard stays smooth, glossy and bright yellow with no scorched top, and this version uses a buttery shortcrust (lard is traditional in some bakeries; we use only butter). Chef's tip: strain the custard twice and skim off every bubble; that's what gives the mirror-smooth surface.
Potato gnocchi are made all over Italy, from Friuli to Rome, where trattorie still serve them on Thursdays ('giovedì gnocchi'). They are just floury potatoes and flour (an egg yolk is optional and makes them easier to handle) rolled into little pillows that cook in two minutes. Good gnocchi are light and tender, never chewy. Serve them with sage butter, as here, or a simple tomato sauce for children. Chef's tip: bake the potatoes in their skins instead of boiling; drier potatoes need less flour, and less flour means lighter gnocchi.
Tiramisù ('pick me up') was created in Treviso, in the Veneto, around the 1960s and 70s; the restaurant Le Beccherie is the best-known claimant. The original is simple: savoiardi biscuits dipped in espresso, layered with a cream of egg yolks, sugar and mascarpone, and dusted with cocoa. No alcohol and no cream in the Treviso version, which is different from this site's Baileys tiramisu. It is best made the morning of, or the day before. Because the eggs are raw, use the freshest you can find, or pasteurised eggs. Chef's tip: beat the yolks and sugar for a full 5 minutes until pale and thick as custard; that is what makes the cream light without whipped cream.
Normandy is the land of orchards and dairy cows, and its apple tart uses both: sliced apples baked in a buttery pastry case, then covered with a custard of eggs, crème fraîche and sugar that sets around the fruit, golden and slightly puffed. Some cooks add a splash of Calvados, the local apple brandy. It's served for Sunday lunch, at village fêtes in autumn, and with a glass of cider. The apples stay soft but hold their slices, and the custard tastes like baked cream. Chef's tip: pre-bake the pastry case before adding the custard; skipping it is the common mistake that leaves a pale, soggy base.
The cheese soufflé is a French bistro classic and a favourite family starter or light supper all over France, often served with a green salad and a glass of white wine. A thick cheese sauce is lightened with whisked egg whites and baked until it rises tall above the dish, golden and crusty outside and soft, almost creamy in the middle. It sounds hard but it's mostly about timing. We thicken the sauce with cornflour so it's gluten free (classic recipes use plain flour). Comté and Gruyère are made with animal rennet, so use a vegetarian alternative. Chef's tip: fold the whites in gently with a big spoon, in three goes; stirring hard is the common mistake that knocks out the air so it never rises.
Crème brûlée, 'burnt cream', is the dessert on almost every Paris bistro menu: a shallow dish of rich vanilla custard, cold and silky, under a thin sheet of caramelised sugar you crack with the back of a spoon. Unlike the stovetop Spanish crema catalana, it's made with cream and baked gently in a water bath. The custards are made a day ahead, which makes it ideal for dinner parties; only the sugar is burnt at the last minute. Chef's tip: take them out of the oven while the middle still wobbles like jelly; overbaking is the common mistake and the custard turns grainy and splits.
Leche flan is on the table for every Filipino Noche Buena on Christmas Eve, at fiestas and at birthdays, steamed in the oval aluminium tins called llaneras and turned out shining under a dark caramel. Unlike Spanish flan or the Brazilian pudim, it is made with egg yolks only, condensed milk and evaporated milk, so it is much denser and smoother, almost like a firm custard fudge, and a little goes a long way. A grating of calamansi or lime zest cuts the richness, and many cooks steam rather than bake it. The leftover whites go into meringue biscuits. Chef's tip: strain the custard twice and stir, don't whisk; air bubbles become holes in the finished flan.
Pastéis de nata were first baked by monks of the Jerónimos Monastery in Belém, on the Lisbon waterfront, who used surplus egg yolks (whites went to starch habits) in a lemon-and-cinnamon custard. Today every pastelaria in Portugal sells them warm from first thing in the morning, eaten standing at the counter with a bica or galão, dusted with cinnamon and icing sugar. The pastry is a spiral of thin, buttery layers pressed up the sides of the tin with a wet thumb; the custard is baked in the hottest oven you have, so it sets creamy and catches dark freckles in under 15 minutes. Chef's tip: chill the rolled log of pastry well and press the discs from the centre outwards, so the edge stands slightly above the rim; that thin rim is what shatters when you bite.
Arroz doce is set out on every Portuguese table at Christmas, at weddings and at the summer romarias (village saints' festivals) of the Minho, poured into wide, shallow platters and dusted with cinnamon in lattices, initials or little hearts. Short-grain carolino rice is first boiled in water with lemon peel and cinnamon, then simmered slowly in milk and sugar, and finally thickened off the heat with egg yolks, which turns it pale gold and custardy; that last step is what sets it apart from Spanish or Mexican rice puddings. It is eaten cold or at room temperature, by the spoonful straight from the platter. Chef's tip: cook the rice in water first until it has swollen, and only then add the milk; starting in milk scorches easily and leaves the grains firm in the middle.
Pão de ló is Portugal's oldest sponge cake, made with nothing but eggs, sugar and a little flour, and every region claims its own. In Ovar, a town on the lagoon coast south of Porto, it is baked only briefly, so a thin golden crust hides a centre of barely set, glossy egg cream that oozes when cut. It is the cake for Easter, when godparents give it to their godchildren, and it is sold all year at the town's bakeries wrapped in the paper it was baked in. Eat it at room temperature with a spoon, on its own or with a glass of port. Chef's tip: whisk the eggs and sugar for a full 12–15 minutes until the mixture is very thick and white; that air is the only thing that lifts the cake.
On Portuguese beaches in summer, from Praia da Rocha in the Algarve to Nazaré and Figueira da Foz, vendors walk the sand with a glass box on their shoulder calling 'Olha a bola!': soft fried doughnuts rolled in sugar, split along one side and stuffed with thick yellow creme pasteleiro. Though named after the Berliner, the Portuguese version is cut open rather than injected, so the custard shows like a smile. They are eaten in swimsuits, sticky-fingered, mid-afternoon, and in cafés the rest of the year. Chef's tip: let the shaped balls rise until they look puffy and a gentle finger press springs back slowly; under-proved dough fries dense and over-proved dough collapses and soaks up oil.
Alfajores de maicena are the homemade alfajor of Argentina and Uruguay, baked for birthdays, school fairs and merienda (afternoon tea) with mate. Two pale, melt-in-the-mouth biscuits made mostly with cornflour are sandwiched with a thick layer of dulce de leche and rolled in desiccated coconut around the edge. They should crumble at the first bite. Chef's tip: take them out of the oven while still pale; if they colour they lose their tender, sandy texture.
Bienmesabe, 'it tastes good to me', is the festive dessert of Cumaná and the eastern Venezuelan coast, made for Christmas, birthdays and first communions. Layers of sponge fingers soaked in sweet wine are spread with a thick, silky coconut cream thickened with egg yolks, then crowned with soft meringue and a dusting of cinnamon. It is rich, tropical and best made a day ahead. Chef's tip: cook the coconut cream gently and stir constantly once the yolks go in; if it boils hard the yolks scramble and it turns grainy.
Bienenstich, the 'bee sting', is a sheet cake found in every German bakery: a soft, buttery yeast dough baked under a crackling layer of almonds caramelised with butter, honey and sugar, then split and filled with vanilla cream. The story goes that a bee, drawn to the honey topping, stung the baker. It's a Sunday afternoon cake, at its best on the day it's made. This version sets the filling with cornflour custard folded with whipped cream, no gelatine. Chef's tip: cut the topping layer into portions before you put it back on the cream; the hard almond crust otherwise squeezes all the filling out when you slice it.
Maultaschen are the big square pasta parcels of Swabia, around Stuttgart and Tübingen, and a dish with its own legend: Swabians jokingly call them 'little God-cheaters', because the dough was said to hide meat from God's eyes during Lent. Meat-free spinach Maultaschen are a long-standing Lenten and Good Friday dish there, filled with spinach, soaked bread, onion, parsley and a little cheese. Eat them in clear vegetable broth, or the next day sliced and fried in butter with onions and egg ('geröstet'). Chef's tip: press every pocket of air out as you seal the dough; trapped air expands in the hot water and splits the parcels open.
Pampushky are the small, pillowy yeast rolls that arrive in a basket next to borshch in any Ukrainian restaurant, from Kyiv to Poltava, glistening with a raw garlic and dill dressing. They are baked tightly packed in one tin so they pull apart with soft sides and golden tops, and the sharp garlic is the perfect partner for sweet, sour beetroot soup. Sweet pampushky, fried and dusted with sugar, also exist; this is the savoury baked kind. Chef's tip: brush on the garlic oil while the rolls are still hot from the oven, so they drink it in; common mistake is brushing them before baking, which burns the garlic bitter.
Kyiv cake was created in 1956 at the Karl Marx confectionery factory in Kyiv, and for decades a round box tied with string, bought at the station kiosk, was the souvenir every visitor carried home from the capital. Two crisp, chewy layers of nut meringue are sandwiched with a rich vanilla and cocoa buttercream and decorated with more cream. It contains no flour, so it is naturally gluten free, and no gelatine. Our home version uses hazelnuts, as the original did before cashews became the norm. Chef's tip: dry the meringue long and slow and let it cool in the switched-off oven; common mistake is pulling it out too early, when it is still soft inside, and then it turns sticky and collapses under the cream.
On the Black Sea promenade in Batumi, the capital of Adjara, this is the bread people queue for after a swim: a boat of soft yeasted dough, the middle filled with molten cheese, and an egg yolk and a slab of butter dropped in at the very end. You stir the yolk and butter through the cheese with a fork at the table, then tear off the crisp ends and dip them in. Locals say the shape is a boat and the yolk the sun over the sea. Georgian imeruli and sulguni cheeses are hard to find outside Georgia, so this uses mozzarella with feta for the salty tang. Choose cheeses labelled vegetarian (microbial rennet). The usual home mistake is putting the egg in too early, which sets it hard; the yolk should go in only for the last 2 minutes so it stays runny. Chef's tip: roll the long edges inwards tightly and pinch the tips hard, or they will unroll in the oven and the cheese will flood the tray.
Pączki are the rich, yeasted doughnuts Poland eats by the dozen on Tłusty Czwartek, Fat Thursday, the last Thursday before Lent, when Warsaw bakeries such as the old ones on Nowy Świat have queues round the block from dawn. A good pączek is round and heavy for its size, with a pale ring around its middle, a fine, yolk-rich crumb and a filling of rose-petal jam (konfitura z róży) or plum butter, finished with icing and candied orange peel. A spoon of vodka or spirytus in the dough is an old trick: it evaporates in the hot oil and stops the dough soaking up fat. Chef's tip: keep the oil between 165 and 175°C with a thermometer; hotter and they burn outside while raw in the middle, cooler and they turn greasy.
Sernik is the baked cheesecake Polish grandmothers make for Easter and Christmas, and in Kraków it often comes as sernik krakowski, with raisins in the filling and a lattice of pastry on top. Unlike the American kind it is made with twaróg, a dry, tangy curd cheese, so the filling is light and fine-grained rather than dense, set with eggs and a little potato starch, never gelatine. This version keeps a buttery shortcrust base and a smooth vanilla-lemon top. Chef's tip: the twaróg must be put through a mincer or sieve twice, or bought as ready-ground twaróg sernikowy in a tub; lumpy cheese gives a grainy cake.
Szarlotka is the apple cake every Polish café and grandmother has a version of, from Zakopane mountain inns to the cake counters of Poznań. In the classic home style, a sweet, crumbly shortcrust (kruche ciasto) is pressed into a tray, filled with a thick layer of tart apples cooked briefly with cinnamon, and topped with the rest of the pastry grated over like crumble. It is served in squares, dusted with icing sugar, often warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream or whipped cream. Sharp autumn apples such as Szara Reneta or Bramley give the right sour-sweet balance. Chef's tip: grate the frozen top layer of dough straight onto the apples; it bakes into a light, sandy crust instead of a heavy lid.
Pogácsa are small, round, flaky savoury scones that appear on every Hungarian buffet table, at weddings, christening parties and wine tastings in Tokaj and Villány, where they are eaten with a glass of white. Bakeries sell them by weight, and every region has its own: with crackling, potato, cabbage or, like these, butter, sour cream and cheese. The dough is folded a few times, so they split into tender layers, and the top is scored in a criss-cross before baking. Chef's tip: cut straight down with a sharp cutter and don't twist; twisting seals the edges and the pogácsa rise lopsided. Use a cheese made with vegetarian rennet.
Makowiec is the poppy seed roll that sits on almost every Polish Christmas Eve and Easter table; in Silesia and Lesser Poland poppy seeds stand for plenty in the year ahead. A soft, buttery yeast dough is rolled around a thick, black, honey-sweet filling of ground poppy seeds with raisins, walnuts and candied orange peel, then baked and glazed so each slice shows a tight spiral. It takes time, but the process is calm and the roll keeps for days. Chef's tip: grind the soaked poppy seeds two or three times, until they look grey and pasty; whole or once-ground seeds give a gritty filling that falls out of the slices.
Somlói galuska was first served at the Gundel restaurant in Budapest in the 1950s and named after the Somló wine hill in western Hungary. Today it is the dessert everyone orders at the end of a Sunday lunch: spoonfuls of three sponges (plain, walnut and cocoa) soaked in rum syrup and layered with vanilla custard, then topped with chocolate sauce and whipped cream. It is assembled the day before and spooned out into rough dumplings, which is where 'galuska' comes from. This version thickens the custard with flour and egg yolk rather than gelatine. Chef's tip: soak the sponge only lightly; it should be moist but still hold a spoon-shaped scoop.
No Goan Catholic Christmas, wedding or feast is complete without bebinca, the 'queen of Goan desserts'. A rich batter of coconut milk, egg yolks, sugar and a little flour is cooked one thin layer at a time under the heat, each layer brushed with ghee before the next is poured on, so the finished cake shows dark-and-light stripes when sliced. Traditionally it was baked over coconut-husk fire with coals on the lid and had sixteen layers; a home grill makes eight to ten easily in an afternoon. It's rich, dense and fudgy, and keeps for a week. Serve thin slices at room temperature, or warm with vanilla ice cream. Chef's tip: make each layer the same thin pour; a thick layer stays raw in the middle while its top burns.
Khanom bueang are little taco-shaped crêpes made on hot round griddles at markets and outside temples all over Bangkok, especially around the old town near the Grand Palace. A vendor spreads a whisper-thin batter with the back of a spoon, swirls on a fluffy meringue cream, then tops it with shredded coconut or sweet egg yolk threads before folding it while still hot. The sweet version, made here, crackles like a wafer and melts on the tongue. A savoury one with coconut and spring onion also exists. They are eaten as an afternoon snack, a few at a time, as soon as they are made. Chef's tip: the batter must go on very thinly. Thick shells stay chewy and never crisp up.
Despite its name, bika ambon belongs to Medan in North Sumatra, where shops on Jalan Majapahit sell it boxed for travellers to take home. A yeasted batter of tapioca, eggs and coconut milk bakes into a cake with a sticky, golden base and long vertical tunnels running through its yellow crumb, perfumed with lemongrass, pandan and lime leaf. It is chewy rather than spongy. Chef's tip: bake it with heat from the bottom first; that is what drives the bubbles upward into the honeycomb.
Feng li su are the gift-box sweet of Taiwan: little golden squares of crumbly, milky shortbread wrapped round a chewy pineapple jam. Bakeries in Taichung and Taipei pack them in tins for Lunar New Year, weddings and visiting relatives, and the name sounds like 'prosperity arriving' in Taiwanese Hokkien. Older bakeries bulk the filling with winter melon for a softer, sweeter jam; this home version uses fresh pineapple only, cooked down until thick and tangy. Chef's tip: chill the dough and the jam balls before wrapping; cold, firm pieces are far easier to seal without the jam breaking through.
Despite the name, there is no pineapple in a bolo bao; the crackled, golden sugar crust on top just looks like the fruit's skin. It is the best-selling bun in Hong Kong bakeries and cha chaan teng cafés, eaten warm at breakfast or tea time with milk tea, and many people order it as bo lo yau, split open with a thick, cold slice of butter melting into it. Chef's tip: roll the topping between two sheets of baking paper rather than on a floured board; the soft dough is fragile and paper lets you lift it on in one piece.
Every Uzbek meal starts with bread torn by hand and passed round the table, and obi non is the everyday loaf: a round with a thick, soft rim and a thin, crisp centre pricked with a patterned stamp called a chekich. In Samarkand and Tashkent it comes out of clay tandoors at dawn, and across the border in Kazakhstan the same bread is sold as tandyr nan. Bread is never cut with a knife and never laid face down. A very hot oven and a baking stone or upturned tray come close to the tandoor at home. Eat it warm with green tea, achichuk salad, soups and plov. Chef's tip: press the centre really thin and prick it all over; if you don't, it puffs into a ball like pitta and you lose the flat, crackly middle.
In autumn, when piles of orange pumpkins appear in the Chorsu bazaar in Tashkent, bakers switch some of their samsa from meat to oshqovoq somsa: crisp, flaky triangles filled with diced pumpkin, onion, cumin and a little sugar, baked against the tandoor wall. They are a street snack eaten hot from paper with green tea, and a fasting-friendly favourite at home. The pastry here is the quick laminated dough Uzbek home cooks use, rolled thin, buttered and coiled. Chef's tip: dice the pumpkin small (1 cm) and don't pre-cook it; raw pumpkin steams inside the pastry and stays in tender, distinct pieces instead of turning into purée.
Gata is the sweet bread Armenians bake for Candlemas (Trndez) in February and for New Year, often with a coin hidden inside for luck; whoever finds it is set for the year. Every region shapes it differently, but the best-known are the large golden rounds sold by women at the roadside near Garni temple and Geghard monastery, cut into wedges for the drive home. Inside a tender, slightly flaky dough made with matsun (yogurt) and butter is khoriz, a sweet crumble of flour, sugar and butter that bakes into a soft, sandy layer. Eat it with black coffee or tea. Chef's tip: roll the dough thin and fold the khoriz inside like an envelope before rolling again; the folding creates layers so the gata is light rather than doughy.
Nazook is the slice-shaped pastry stacked in the windows of Yerevan bakeries and sold by the box at every Armenian church fair from Glendale to Marseille. A yeasted dough enriched with sour cream is rolled thin, spread with a vanilla-scented filling of flour, butter and sugar, rolled into a log and cut on the slant before baking. The result is flaky outside, with a soft, buttery swirl inside, sweet but not sticky. It is a coffee pastry, served to guests and packed for long journeys because it keeps well. Chef's tip: keep the filling cold and spread it right to the side edges; the swirl looks finished and every slice gets its share.
Şəkərbura is one of the three sweets that must be on the khoncha tray at Novruz, the spring new year celebrated on 20–21 March, alongside pakhlava and gogal. The half-moon shape is said to stand for the moon, and the fine herringbone pattern on top is pinched by hand with small brass tweezers called maggash, a skill passed down at family baking sessions in the days before the holiday. Inside is a sweet, fragrant mix of ground almonds or walnuts with sugar and cardamom. Shaki is famous for its shekerbura, though every family has its own pattern. Serve with black tea. Chef's tip: bake them pale; shekerbura should stay creamy-white with only the edges just turning blond, never brown.
Badambura means "almond twist", and in Baku it is the cousin of shekerbura that takes more patience: the dough is rolled thin, brushed with butter and rolled up in a long spiral, so it bakes into crisp, flaky layers around a moist almond filling. It is made for Novruz and weddings and sold year-round in the old-city bakeries of Icherisheher, wrapped in paper with a dusting of icing sugar. The flavour is pure almond and cardamom with a hint of vanilla. Serve with black tea in pear-shaped glasses. Chef's tip: keep the rolled spiral cold in the fridge for 20 minutes before cutting; firm dough keeps its layers.
Şəkərçörəyi, "sugar bread", is the simplest of the Novruz sweets: small domed shortbreads made from melted butter, icing sugar and flour, whose tops crack in fine lines like dry earth as they bake. They melt in the mouth and leave a powdery sweetness, and families in Ganja and Baku bake big batches in the week before the spring festival to fill trays for visiting neighbours. Some cooks press a hazelnut or a pinch of poppy seeds into the centre. Serve with tea, ideally with a spoonful of quince jam. Chef's tip: let the melted butter cool and turn pale and creamy before mixing; hot butter makes the biscuits spread flat and greasy.
This domed green cake sits in every Swedish konditori window and is the cake for name days, birthdays and the last week of September, which Swedes call Prinsesstårtans vecka. It was first written down in the 1930s by Jenny Åkerström, cookery teacher to three young Swedish princesses, and they adored it. Under the smooth marzipan lie airy sponge layers, raspberry jam, thick vanilla custard and a tall mound of whipped cream. Shop versions often set the cream with gelatine; here the custard is firmed with cornflour and the cream with a little mascarpone, so it is fully vegetarian and still slices cleanly. Chef's tip: assemble the cake the day before you need the custard and sponge, but cover it with marzipan only a few hours before serving; marzipan sweats in the fridge overnight.
In the province of Liège, and above all in the town of Verviers, no village fair (ducasse) or family celebration happens without tarte au riz, called rijsttaart in Flanders. A thin, soft yeast-dough crust holds a thick layer of rice cooked slowly in milk with vanilla and sugar, enriched with egg yolks and baked until the top is speckled brown. People buy whole tarts from the bakery for a birthday and eat them cold with coffee. Chef's tip: cook the rice until a spoon drawn through it leaves a clear path that closes slowly; a runny filling never sets in the oven, and the crust turns soggy.
The small town of Geraardsbergen in East Flanders is so proud of its mattentaart that the little round puff-pastry tart has protected (PGI) status in the EU, and only bakers in the area may sell it under that name. It is filled with matten, a fresh curd made by curdling hot milk with buttermilk, mixed with eggs, sugar and a hint of almond, and baked until puffed and golden. Locals eat it with coffee, especially in late February when the town holds its Krakelingen festival. You make the curd yourself the day before. Chef's tip: hang the curd for a full night; too much whey left in it makes the filling weep and the pastry soggy.
In German-speaking Switzerland the Sunday breakfast table is not complete without a Zopf (Züpfe in Bern): a shiny, plaited white loaf made with milk and plenty of butter, sliced thick and spread with more butter and jam or honey. Bakeries from Bern to St Gallen bake them on Saturday nights, and many families plait their own on Sunday morning. The crumb is soft, light and faintly sweet from the butter, not the sugar, and the egg-yolk glaze gives a deep brown, glossy crust. Leftovers make excellent French toast (Fotzelschnitte). Chef's tip: let the shaped plait rest in a cool place for 15 minutes before glazing and baking; the strands hold their shape and the pattern stays crisp.
The Engadiner Nusstorte comes from the high Engadine valley in Graubünden, where pastry cooks who had emigrated to Italian and French cities brought home their skills in the 1800s, and walnuts arrived from Italy over the passes. It is a shallow, closed tart of rich butter pastry filled with chopped walnuts set in thick, golden cream caramel. Bakeries all over Switzerland sell it, and it keeps for weeks, so families give it as a gift and take it on hikes. Cut it into thin wedges: it is very rich, chewy, crunchy and buttery all at once. Chef's tip: let the caramel reach a deep amber before you pour in the cream; pale caramel tastes only of sugar, dark amber gives the toffee note the tart is known for.
Cozonac is the festive loaf every Romanian family bakes for Easter and Christmas, filling kitchens from Craiova to Suceava with the smell of butter, rum, lemon and orange zest. The rich yeast dough is rolled around a walnut and cocoa filling studded with pieces of rahat (Turkish delight), then braided and baked in a tall loaf tin so each slice shows a dark swirl. Unlike Slovenian potica, which is rolled into a thin spiral ring, cozonac is a braided loaf. It is eaten in thick slices with coffee on the feast mornings. Chef's tip: knead until the dough is silky and comes away from the bowl, then be patient with the rises; under-proving is the classic mistake and gives a dense, heavy loaf.
No Slovenian Easter or Christmas table is complete without potica, a yeasted dough rolled thin around a honeyed walnut filling and baked in a fluted ring mould called a potičnik. When sliced, each piece shows a tight spiral of pale dough and dark nuts. Families in Ljubljana and across Carniola argue about the best filling, but walnut with honey is the classic one, eaten with coffee from Christmas morning until the tin is empty. Unlike a braided Romanian cozonac, the beauty is all in the thin, even swirl. Chef's tip: spread the filling no thicker than the dough and roll it up tightly; a loose roll or a thick layer leaves a gap between dough and filling once baked, the most common potica fault.
Kremšnita has been served in the cafés on the shore of Lake Bled since the 1950s, and a tall, wobbling square of it with a coffee and a view of the island church is still the reason many people stop in the town. It is a thick layer of vanilla custard, lightened with whipped egg whites, topped with whipped cream and sandwiched between thin sheets of crisp puff pastry. The custard holds its shape with egg yolks, cornflour and meringue alone; there is no gelatine. Chef's tip: fold the meringue into the custard while it is still boiling hot and keep stirring on a low heat for a minute, so the whites cook and set the cream.
In the villages of South Moravia and Wallachia, nobody gets married without a mountain of koláče: small round yeast buns with a deep hollow filled with sweetened poppy seed, vanilla quark or povidla (thick plum butter), each crowned with buttery posypka crumble. Relatives bake hundreds for the wedding and send guests home with boxes of them, and they turn up again at village fairs (pouť) and Sunday coffee. Chef's tip: press the hollow deep and wide just before filling; the dough rises again in the oven, and a shallow dip pushes the filling over the edge.
Every panadería in Puerto Rico has a tray of quesitos by the till, and a warm one with a café con leche is a standard island breakfast, from Old San Juan to small-town bakeries in the mountains. Puff pastry is rolled around a log of sweet vanilla cream cheese and baked until it shatters, then brushed with sugar syrup so the top turns glossy and sticky. The filling stays soft and slightly tangy inside the crisp layers. Chef's tip: chill the filling before you roll, so it holds its shape and doesn't squeeze out of the ends in the oven.
Neenish tarts have sat in the windows of Australian country bakeries for more than a century, and they're also found across the Tasman in New Zealand. Where the name comes from is still argued over, with one story placing it in the small town of Grong Grong in New South Wales. A crisp sweet pastry case holds a thin layer of raspberry jam and a fluffy mock cream, a beaten mixture of butter, sugar and milk, and the top is iced in two halves: one white, one chocolate. Many bakery mock creams use gelatine; this one doesn't. Chef's tip: beat the mock cream for a long time, a full 8–10 minutes, until the sugar has dissolved and it is white and fluffy, not gritty.
Assida zgougou is made in Tunisian homes once a year, for the Mouled (the Prophet's birthday): a dark, nutty pudding of Aleppo pine seeds (zgougou) cooked with flour and sugar, topped with a pale vanilla custard and decorated with almonds, pistachios, pine nuts and sugared almonds. Families make dozens of glasses to share with neighbours. Zgougou is sold in Tunisian and North African grocers; ground hazelnuts are a stand-in, though the taste is different. Chef's tip: strain the zgougou liquid through muslin twice; any grit ruins the smooth texture.
No Fassi wedding or engagement feast is complete without bastila, a showpiece pie brought out as the first course and broken open at the table. Under its crackling layers of buttered pastry sit three fillings: shredded chicken cooked with saffron, ginger and onion, soft lemony eggs set in the reduced cooking juices, and crunchy almonds ground with sugar and cinnamon. The top is dusted with icing sugar and a lattice of cinnamon, so every bite is sweet, savoury, crisp and tender at once. Serve it hot with nothing more than a green salad. Chef's tip: make the fillings a day ahead and chill them; cold fillings are easier to layer and keep the pastry crisp.
Makassar's other great beef soup is darker, richer and more coconutty than coto, and locals argue about which is better over late lunches at pallubasa houses near the port. The secret is kelapa sangrai: grated coconut toasted slowly to a deep brown and pounded, which gives the broth a roasted, almost nutty sweetness and a slightly gritty, full body. It's eaten with a mound of plain rice rather than rice cakes, and for the full version you ask for 'alas', a raw egg yolk dropped in the bowl that you stir into the boiling soup until it turns silky. Offal is traditional but optional; tender beef alone is delicious. Chef's tip: the coconut must reach the colour of milk chocolate, not black, because burnt coconut makes the whole pot bitter.
Roman trattorie from Testaccio to Trastevere serve carbonara at lunch to people who would be scandalised by a drop of cream: the gloss comes only from egg yolk, sharp pecorino romano, rendered guanciale fat and starchy pasta water. Made well, it coats each strand in a golden, peppery custard that just holds together, with crisp-edged nuggets of cured pork through it. It needs nothing alongside but a green salad dressed with lemon, eaten after the pasta as Romans do. Because the eggs are only warmed through, use pasteurised eggs if you are cooking for anyone pregnant, very young, older or otherwise vulnerable. Chef's tip: use mostly yolks and only a couple of whole eggs; whites set first and turn grainy, while yolks give that silky, deep yellow sauce.
Pastitsio is the dish Greek mothers make for big Sunday lunches and christenings, and the one every Athens taverna keeps warm in a deep tray at lunchtime. Long tubular pasta is layered with a beef and tomato sauce scented with cinnamon and allspice, then topped with a deep, wobbly béchamel that bakes to a golden crust. Cut it into neat squares once it has rested and serve with a green salad. Chef's tip: let it rest for at least 30 minutes after baking; cut hot, it slumps, but rested it slices into clean layers.
Quiche lorraine comes from Lorraine in north-eastern France, near Nancy and Metz, where it began as a bread-dough tart filled with eggs, cream and smoked bacon. It contains pork. The true Lorraine version has no cheese, just a deep, wobbly custard and crisp lardons, and it is eaten warm for lunch with a green salad or cut into slices for picnics. Chef's tip: blind-bake the pastry until it is golden and sealed; a pale base turns soggy under the custard.
Eggs Benedict belongs to New York, where two Manhattan restaurants still argue over who served it first, and it remains the star of weekend brunch from diners to grand hotels. Toasted English muffins carry warm ham (pork), softly poached eggs and a blanket of buttery, lemony hollandaise. Chef's tip: use the freshest eggs you can get for poaching; their whites hold together instead of spreading into wisps.
Ghent claims waterzooi as its own, and in the cafés around the Korenmarkt it is served in deep plates as a cross between soup and stew. Originally made with river fish, the city's version today is nearly always chicken, poached gently with leek, carrot, celery and potato, then the broth is enriched with cream and egg yolk until it turns silky and pale gold. It is eaten all year but tastes best on a damp Flemish evening, with crusty bread for the last of the broth. The mistake to avoid is boiling it after the yolks go in, which scrambles them; keep it below a simmer while it thickens. Chef's tip: cut the vegetables into fine, even julienne so they cook in the same time and look neat in the bowl.
Romanians swear by ciorbă de burtă the morning after a wedding or a long night out, and in Bucharest there are restaurants that serve little else from breakfast onwards. Strips of beef tripe sit in a silky broth thickened with egg yolk and sour cream, sharpened with vinegar and served with mujdei, a raw garlic sauce, and a hot pepper on the side. It takes time, because tripe only turns tender after a long, slow simmer. The mistake most people make is boiling the soup after the yolks go in, which scrambles them into flecks. Chef's tip: buy cleaned, blanched (white, 'dressed') tripe from the butcher; it saves an hour of scrubbing and is much milder.
