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Ají amarillo pasteYellow chilli paste

In Lima's markets ají amarillo is sold fresh all year, and most Peruvian cooks keep a tub of this paste in the fridge the way others keep tomato purée: it is the golden base of causa limeña, ají de gallina, papa a la huancaína, chupe and the sauce for tiraditos. The chillies are seeded, de-veined and blanched in three changes of water, which tames the heat and the raw grassiness, then peeled and blended with oil into a thick, silky, saffron-orange paste. It tastes fruity and sunny, almost like apricot and passion fruit, with a rounded, medium heat. Abroad, buy whole frozen ají amarillo from Latin grocers; dried ají mirasol, soaked, gives a darker, earthier paste. Common mistake: skipping the peeling; the thin skins leave papery flecks and a bitter edge. It is ready when it is completely smooth and holds a soft peak like thick hummus. This is a low-acid paste: keep it in the fridge for a week or freeze it, never on the shelf. Chef's tip: freeze it in an ice-cube tray; one cube is about a tablespoon, just right for a pot of ají de gallina.

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ThenthukHand-pulled noodle soup

In the Tibetan restaurants around Boudha stupa in Kathmandu, thenthuk is what people order on cold evenings and winter mornings: pieces of dough are pulled flat and pinched straight into a light broth with mutton or buffalo, tomato, radish and spinach. The noodles are thick, soft and slightly uneven, and the soup is gentle and warming, with a little soy and spring onion. This home version uses mutton or lamb. Contains wheat and soya. Chef's tip: pull the dough so thin you can almost see your fingers through it; thick pieces stay doughy in the middle.

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Postre MassiniCustard sponge with burnt sugar top

Montevideo's birthday cake of choice since the early twentieth century, the Massini is two thin layers of sponge sandwiching a thick filling of whipped cream folded with egg-yolk custard, crowned with a thin glassy crust of torched yolk and sugar. Bakeries across Uruguay sell it on Sundays. Traditional versions sometimes add a sweet fortified wine to the custard; this one is alcohol-free. The custard is cooked to a safe 71 °C. The common mistake is assembling with warm custard, which melts the cream into a puddle. Chef's tip: if you don't have a blowtorch, put the sugared top under a very hot grill for a minute and watch it closely.

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Jwano ko jholCarom seed broth

Jwano ko jhol is the soup Nepali families make for a mother in the weeks after a birth, and for anyone in the house who has a cold during the Kathmandu winter. Carom seeds are fried in ghee with a spoon of flour until nutty, then whisked with water, garlic and ginger into a thin, peppery, slightly thyme-like broth that is sipped hot from a bowl or poured over rice. The usual mistake is burning the jwano: it turns bitter in seconds, so take it off the heat as soon as it darkens a shade. Chef's tip: whisk the water in a little at a time, as with gravy, so the flour never forms lumps.

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Pira caldoCreamy fish soup with cheese

Along the Paraguay River from Asunción to Concepción, pira caldo is the fishermen's soup, said to restore strength after a long night: chunks of firm river fish poached in a broth of onion, peppers and tomato fried in fat, then made creamy with milk and melted fresh cheese. Surubí or other catfish is traditional; any firm white fish such as hake or pollock works. The mistake most people make is boiling the soup after the milk and cheese go in, which splits it. Chef's tip: fry the vegetables until they are very soft and sweet before adding the water; that is where the flavour comes from.

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Caldo de gallinaHen broth with noodles

In Lima's markets and the all-night caldo stalls of districts like La Victoria, a bowl of caldo de gallina is the dawn breakfast for market porters, taxi drivers and anyone coming home late: a deep, golden broth from a slow-simmered hen (a boiling fowl) with ginger and spring onion, ladled over thick noodles and yellow potato, with a boiled egg, lime and ají chilli on the side. The common mistake is boiling the broth hard, which clouds it and toughens the meat; keep it to a lazy simmer. The chicken must reach 74 °C, though after this long simmer it will be well past that. Chef's tip: cook the noodles separately, then put them in the bowls; cooked in the pot they drink the broth and turn it starchy.

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GundrukFermented leafy greens

After the rice harvest in October and November, hill families from Ilam to Gorkha cut the leaves of mustard greens, radish and cauliflower, leave them to wilt in the yard, then pound them into clay pots or pits to ferment. A week later the greens come out olive-brown and sour, and they are dried on bamboo mats in the bright Dashain-Tihar sun. That dried gundruk carries families through the lean winter: soaked and simmered into gundruk ko jhol with tomato and soybeans beside dal-bhat, or tossed into gundruk sadeko with onion, chilli and mustard oil to eat with chiura. The flavour is deeply sour, earthy and a little smoky, the dried leaves chewy-crisp, softening when cooked. Common mistake: packing the leaves loosely; air left in the jar lets mould grow instead of the sour lactic ferment, so press until juice rises over the greens. It is ready to dry when it smells sharply sour like good sauerkraut and the leaves have lost all their green. Chef's tip: if your greens are from a supermarket, mix mustard greens with radish tops or kale for the closest flavour, and ferment in a big jar with a weight.

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Fini rotiLayered fried sugar bread

During Tihar, the five-day festival of lights in late autumn, sisters in Kathmandu and Pokhara prepare a basket of treats for Bhai Tika, and fini roti, a crisp round of fried bread made of dozens of paper-thin layers, sits in it beside sel roti, nuts and sweets. A simple dough of flour and ghee is rolled very thin, spread with a paste of ghee and rice flour, rolled into a log and cut, so that each piece fans out in the hot oil into a flaky spiral that shatters at the first bite. It is lightly dusted with sugar, lasts for days in a tin, and is eaten with tea or given to visiting relatives. The layers vanish if you make the paste with melted ghee, which seeps out instead of staying put. Chef's tip: beat the ghee and rice flour together until fluffy and pale like soft butter, and keep the dough cool so the layers stay distinct.

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Sisnu ko jholStinging nettle soup

Sisnu grows wild along every terrace wall and trail in the middle hills, and before vegetables were easy to buy it was the green that kept villages going through the dry season; Rai and Magar families still pick the tender tips with tongs or with a cloth wrapped round the hand. Cooked, the sting disappears completely, leaving a deep green, silky soup that tastes somewhere between spinach and seaweed, thickened with a spoonful of cornmeal and seasoned with garlic, chilli, jimbu and timur. It is poured over rice or eaten with dhido, and many Kathmandu restaurants now serve it as a proud reminder of hill cooking. Never handle the raw leaves bare-handed; the sting lasts for hours. Chef's tip: wear rubber gloves until the nettles have been in boiling water for a minute, and pick only the top four to six leaves of each shoot.

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ShyakpaHand-torn dough and yak stew

In the stone lodges of Namche Bazaar and the villages of Solukhumbu, shyakpa is what a Sherpa family cooks on the hearth when the wind comes down off the glaciers: a thick, peppery stew of yak meat, potato and white radish, with pieces of fresh dough pinched straight off a ball and dropped into the pot to cook like chunky noodles. It is eaten from big bowls at the end of a long day's trekking, often with a spoonful of fiery tomato and chilli achar. Yak is rare outside the Himalaya, so beef or lamb is the usual swap, and a vegetables-only shyakpa with extra potato, radish and greens is just as common. Many cooks drop all the dough in at once, which clumps it into a stodgy mass; add it in batches and stir. Chef's tip: let the dough rest for 15 minutes so it stretches thin without tearing.

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Sinki ko jholFermented radish soup

Sinki is the radish answer to gundruk: in late autumn, families in Ilam, Dhankuta and Terhathum pack chunks of radish root into pits lined with straw or into airtight jars, let them ferment for a few weeks, then cut and sun-dry the pieces into chewy, pungent strips that last all year. In winter and through the monsoon, a handful turns a pot of water, tomato, garlic and chilli into a thin, tangy, warming soup that is poured over rice or drunk from a bowl alongside dal bhat. It is light, sharp and savoury, and many people in the hills swear by it for a cold or a heavy stomach. It goes wrong if the sinki is not rinsed and soaked, so the soup tastes musty and gritty. Chef's tip: soak the strips in warm water for 10 minutes, squeeze them dry and fry them briefly in the oil before the water goes in, which mellows the funk and brings out a pleasant smokiness.

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Viennese GugelhupfLemon and raisin ring cake

In Vienna the Gugelhupf is the Sunday cake of home bakers, set out on the table for afternoon Jause with coffee, and every family has its own fluted copper or ceramic mould. Unlike the yeasted ring cakes of Alsace and southern Germany, the everyday Viennese one is a Rührgugelhupf, a buttery sponge lifted with whisked egg whites, scented with lemon and studded with plump raisins. It is tender, light and keeps moist for several days under a cake dome. A common mistake is a badly greased mould; every ridge needs butter and flour or the cake tears as it comes out. Chef's tip: soak the raisins in hot water for 15 minutes, dry them and toss them in a spoon of flour so they don't sink.

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Chairo puneñoLamb, chuño and wheat soup

High on the Altiplano, where nights freeze even in summer, chairo is the soup that gets Puno's market workers and farmers through the day. It is thick and brothy at once: lamb on the bone and a little charqui (dried meat) simmered with crushed chuño, peeled wheat, broad beans, potatoes and squash, scented with cumin, oregano and huacatay or mint. Expect a deep, meaty, slightly smoky bowl with lots of chew. Soak the chuño and the wheat overnight. A common error is adding the potatoes with the meat, so they dissolve before the lamb is tender; they go in for the last 25 minutes. Chef's tip: crush the soaked chuño into small pieces by hand; they thicken the broth as it cooks.

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Chupe de camaronesPrawn chowder

Arequipa's picanterías serve one chupe on each day of the week, and the prawn one, made with crayfish-like camarones from the Majes and Ocoña rivers, is the grandest, especially on Fridays in Lent. It is a big orange chowder: a broth made from the prawn shells and heads, coloured with ají panca, filled with potatoes, corn, broad beans and a little rice, then softened with evaporated milk and fresh cheese, with an egg poached in each bowl. Rich, sweet and gently spicy, it needs nothing but bread. Large shell-on prawns stand in well for river prawns. Many cooks boil the prawns from the start and they turn to rubber; add them at the end and cook only until pink and opaque. Chef's tip: fry the heads and shells in the oil first and press them hard; the orange fat that comes out is what gives chupe its colour and depth.

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InchicapiPeanut chicken soup

From the riverside kitchens of Iquitos and the Peruvian Amazon comes inchicapi, a festive chicken soup traditionally made with a free-range hen for birthdays and fiestas. Raw peanuts and a little maize flour are ground and stirred into the broth, which turns it creamy, pale and nutty, and pieces of cassava, garlic, ají dulce and sacha culantro (a long, serrated, strongly flavoured coriander) finish it. It is served with rice, boiled plantain or cassava. If you can't find sacha culantro in Asian or Latin shops (sold as culantro or ngo gai), use a big handful of coriander. The pitfall is adding the peanut paste dry: it clumps and catches on the bottom, so loosen it with broth first and stir often. Chef's tip: use raw, not roasted, peanuts; they keep the soup pale and give it the right fresh, milky taste.

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King kongLayered biscuit with manjar blanco

Named, the story goes, after the giant ape because of its size when the film reached Peru, the king kong is Lambayeque's proudest sweet: thick, crumbly biscuit layers stacked with manjar blanco, a sticky pineapple jam and a peanut fudge, then cut into heavy slabs. Shops in Lambayeque and Chiclayo sell them by the kilo in boxes, and travellers carry them home as gifts. It is very sweet, buttery and dense, so a slice goes a long way with black coffee. This home version makes the manjar blanco from condensed and evaporated milk to save hours, then turns half of it into the peanut layer. The usual mistake is overbaking the biscuit until it is hard; take it out as soon as the edges are pale gold, as it firms up while it cools. It is a project, so make the fillings first and let them cool. Chef's tip: wrap the finished king kong and leave it overnight before cutting; the layers settle and soften into each other.

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KispiñoSteamed quinoa cakes

Pressed in a fist so each one carries the marks of the cook's fingers, kispiño are small, dense quinoa cakes from the Puno highlands, steamed and then left to dry so they keep for weeks on journeys, herding trips and pilgrimages. Traditional ones are bound with a little lime water (from cal, the mineral) and fat; this home version uses oil and a pinch of aniseed and sugar, so they're vegan and pleasantly savoury-sweet. They're firm and chewy, a little like a grain cake, and good with hot tea, coca tea or a soup on a cold day. The common mistake is making the dough too wet, so the cakes slump in the steamer; it should feel like damp sand that holds its shape when squeezed. Ground quinoa is quinoa flour; grind your own from rinsed, dried and toasted grain, or buy it ready ground. Chef's tip: toast the ground quinoa in a dry pan first until it smells nutty, which takes away any bitterness.

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MenestrónBeef, bean and pasta soup

Think of the Italian minestrone after a century of Lima kitchens: menestrón is thicker, heartier and greener, a weekday soup that families and menú restaurants make in huge pots. Beef shin simmers into a rich broth with potatoes, squash, corn, cabbage, green beans and white beans, then short pasta goes in, and finally a purée of basil, spinach, garlic and fresh cheese turns the whole pot pale green and fragrant. It is a meal in a bowl, best with bread and a squeeze of lime or a spoon of ají. People tend to add the basil purée too early; boiled, it loses its colour and its scent, so stir it in off the heat. Chef's tip: for a vegetarian menestrón, skip the beef and use vegetable stock, with a cheese made with microbial (vegetarian) rennet.

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PatascaHominy and tripe soup

Through the highlands of Ayacucho, Huancavelica and Apurímac, patasca (also called mondongo) is the soup for cold mornings, carnivals and the day after a fiesta: plump white mote, dried maize kernels that burst open like flowers after long boiling, in a clear, rich broth with honeycomb tripe and beef shin, perfumed with mint and oregano. It is filling and gentle, and gets its fire at the table from a spoon of rocoto sauce. Plan ahead: the maize needs an overnight soak and several hours of simmering. Buy tripe cleaned and blanched from a butcher or Latin or halal shop; it must be simmered until soft and fully cooked. The typical mistake is salting the mote early, which keeps the kernels hard. Chef's tip: cook the maize and the tripe in separate pots, then combine; each needs a different time and the broth stays cleaner.

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ShámbarWheat, bean and smoked pork soup

Mondays in Trujillo mean shámbar: market stalls and huariques across the city put out pots of this thick, smoky soup of cracked wheat, chickpeas, broad beans, peas and canary beans, cooked with smoked ham hock, pork ribs and pork skin, then stirred through with a fried paste of ají panca and garlic and a handful of mint. It is earthy, porky and rib-sticking, and each bowl gets a scoop of crunchy cancha just before eating. Soak the beans and the wheat overnight. People often cook everything together from the start, and the peas turn to mush before the chickpeas soften; cook the hardest pulses first. Chef's tip: toast the wheat in a dry pan before soaking it; it gives the soup a nutty depth the locals look for.

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Turrón de Doña PepaAnise biscuit sticks in spiced syrup

Every October, the month of the Señor de los Milagros processions in Lima, bakeries and street sellers pile their trays with turrón de Doña Pepa: layers of crumbly anise-flavoured sticks drenched in a dark syrup of chancaca cooked with fruit and spices, topped with a storm of coloured sprinkles. Popular lore credits it to Josefa Marmanillo, a woman from the Cañete valley who is said to have made it in thanks after the procession. It is sticky, crunchy and soft at once, with orange and clove in the syrup. Its downfall is usually runny syrup that soaks the sticks into mush; it needs to reach a thick, threading stage before it goes on. Chancaca is sold as cones or blocks in Latin shops; panela or dark muscovado also work. Some coloured sprinkles contain gelatin, so check the label. Chef's tip: make it a day ahead; the syrup sets and the sticks soften just enough to slice neatly.

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EsterházytorteAlmond meringue layer cake

Named after a Hungarian noble family and claimed by both Budapest and Vienna, this torte is a showpiece of Viennese pastry shops, where it sits in the glass counter beside richer chocolate cakes. Five or six crisp-chewy almond meringue layers are stacked with a vanilla custard buttercream, then topped with white icing and the famous feathered chocolate lines. It has no flour at all, so it suits gluten-free guests. A common mistake is baking the layers too pale; they should be light golden, or they go soft and sticky in the cream. Chef's tip: draw the circles on baking paper first and spread the meringue to the line with a palette knife, so every layer matches.

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GrießnockerlsuppeBeef broth with semolina dumplings

Grießnockerlsuppe is the soup that opens a proper Austrian Sunday lunch, from Viennese grandmothers' tables to village inns in Upper Austria: a clear, deeply savoury beef broth with three or four soft, oval semolina dumplings that should be fluffy enough to cut with a spoon. The broth is made from beef shin and bones, simmered slowly with charred onion; broth left over from Tafelspitz works perfectly too. Chef's tip: let the semolina mix rest for 15 minutes before shaping; the grains swell and the dumplings hold together without going heavy.

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KardinalschnittenMeringue and sponge coffee slices

Kardinalschnitten, 'cardinal slices', were created in Vienna with the colours of the Church in mind: white meringue and yellow sponge baked side by side in stripes. In Viennese cafés they are a light, summery choice with an afternoon coffee. Two baked sheets of alternating stripes sandwich a soft coffee cream, and the result is crisp, airy and cool at the same time. A common mistake is overfilling with cream that has not been stabilised; it squeezes out when you cut. Here a little mascarpone keeps the cream firm without gelatine. Chef's tip: pipe the meringue stripes first and the sponge in the gaps after, so the sponge does not spread flat.

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