Skip to content
Recipes

All recipes

Vegetarian, or something you can't eat? Set your diet once and we'll hide recipes that don't fit.

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

KabatoCornmeal swallow with lemon

From Korhogo and Odienné down to Bouaké, households in northern and central Côte d'Ivoire eat kabato almost daily: a swallow of maize meal cooked with a squeeze of lemon. The acid gives the paste a faint tang and a firmer, cleaner bite than plain cornmeal. It is eaten warm with okra sauce, groundnut sauce or a sauce of pounded leaves, pinched off by hand and dragged through the bowl. A common slip is adding the cornmeal too fast, which makes lumps; rain it in while stirring. Chef's tip: whisk the lemony cornmeal slurry into the boiling water before adding the rest of the meal; starting with a thin porridge is what keeps kabato lump-free.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

AttoukpouSteamed fermented cassava balls

Along the lagoons east and west of Abidjan, Ebrié and Attié cooks turn soured cassava dough into attoukpou, a soft steamed paste that is gentler and less stretchy than placali. The crumbled dough is steamed until it turns translucent, then pounded with a little hot water into smooth, pillowy balls with a light sourness. It is served at home and at village gatherings with palm-nut sauce, a light pepper soup or aubergine sauce, and it soaks up gravy beautifully. Ready-made fermented cassava dough from an African grocer saves days of work. Avoid packing the dough tightly into the steamer; it needs space for the steam to move through. Chef's tip: crumble the dough very finely before steaming; big lumps stay chalky in the middle however long they cook.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

PlacaliSoured cassava swallow

Abidjan's maquis serve placali in shining grey mounds next to bowls of sauce kopé, the okra sauce that slides off the spoon, and many Ivorians from the lagoon and southern forest regions eat it several times a week. It is made from soured cassava dough dissolved in water, strained and cooked while beaten hard until it becomes a translucent, sticky, stretchy paste. The taste is mildly sour and the texture smooth and elastic, meant to be swallowed rather than chewed. Pair it with okra, palm-nut or leaf sauces. Don't stop stirring once the dough thickens, or raw lumps hide in the swallow. Chef's tip: wet your hands and the serving bowl before shaping, otherwise placali clings to everything it touches.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

ChajáSponge, peach and cream cake

Chajá was created in 1927 at a bakery in Paysandú, a city on the Uruguay River, and named after a local bird whose feathers look as fluffy as its crumbly meringue coat. Today it's Uruguay's birthday and celebration cake: layers of light sponge soaked in peach syrup, filled with whipped cream, peaches and dulce de leche, then covered in crushed meringue. It's sweet, soft and crunchy at once, best on the day it's assembled. Chef's tip: soak the sponge but not too much; it should feel moist, not wet, or the layers slide.

by KrazyBadal 0 views