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Smen (salted, herbed butter)

Atlas households once kept jars of smen for months, even years, until the salted butter developed a pungent, almost blue-cheese aroma; a spoonful stirred into couscous, harira or a chicken tagine gives a depth nothing else can. Long ageing at room temperature is risky at home, so this is a safer fridge version: pasteurised unsalted butter is simmered with dried za'atar or oregano, strained, salted and then matured in the fridge for 2–4 weeks, which gives a mellow, nutty, faintly tangy smen rather than the fiercely strong old kind. For the real long-aged flavour, buy smen from a reputable shop. Use it a teaspoon at a time; it is meant as a seasoning, not a cooking fat. The mistake to avoid is leaving any milk solids or water in the butter, as that is what turns it rancid or mouldy rather than pleasantly aged. Chef's tip: strain it through muslin until perfectly clear; any milky bits left in the jar are what turn butter rancid.

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Salted butter caramel

Salted butter caramel was made famous by a confectioner in Quiberon in the 1970s, and now every crêperie from Rennes to Brest pours it over sweet crêpes, and every Breton cupboard has a jar for ice cream, apples or simply a spoon. Brittany kept the habit of salted butter long after the rest of France, so the salt is part of the flavour, not a trend. The caramel is cooked dark, loosened with hot cream and finished with butter flecked with sea salt. It keeps for two weeks in the fridge. Chef's tip: warm the cream before adding it; cold cream makes the caramel seize into hard lumps and spit furiously.

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Nan-e gerdooyi

In the run-up to Nowruz, when Tabriz, Tehran and Qazvin families are spring-cleaning and baking for the round of holiday visits, nan-e gerdooyi are among the first cookies to go into the tin. They are made with chopped walnuts held together by egg yolks and sugar, no flour at all, so they bake crisp at the edge and soft and chewy in the middle. A common mistake is grinding the walnuts to a paste; they should be chopped into small pieces so the cookies have texture and don't turn oily. Chef's tip: leave a good gap between them on the tray; they spread to about twice their size.

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Irish buttermilk scones

Irish scones are the centre of afternoon tea in hotels and country houses from Galway to Wicklow, and the bake that every Irish cook makes from memory. Buttermilk makes them light and tender with a faint tang, and an egg wash gives the glossy golden top. Serve warm, split, with butter, raspberry jam and whipped cream. Chef's tip: press the cutter straight down without twisting; twisting seals the edges and stops them rising tall.

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Devon cream tea scones

A cream tea is the West Country's afternoon treat: warm scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam with a pot of tea, served in tea gardens across Devon and Cornwall. In Devon the cream goes on first and the jam on top; in Cornwall it's the other way round, and the argument never ends. These scones are plain and light so the cream and jam shine. Chef's tip: cut straight down with the cutter and don't twist it, or the scones rise lopsided.

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Singin' hinnies

Singin' hinnies are the girdle cakes of Northumberland and Tyneside, named for the singing hiss of the butter as they cook ('hinny' is a Geordie word of affection, like 'honey'). Mothers made them for children coming home from school, cooked on a heavy griddle and eaten hot, split and buttered. They are scone dough studded with currants and cooked in the pan instead of the oven. Chef's tip: keep the heat medium-low so they cook through before the outside darkens.

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Za'atar spice blend

In Palestinian homes za'atar is both a herb and the blend made from it, kept in a jar beside a bowl of olive oil so torn bread can be dipped in one and then the other at breakfast; children grow up on it, and it goes to school in sandwiches. The blend is mostly dried wild za'atar (or thyme and oregano), tangy with sumac, nutty with toasted sesame and seasoned with salt. Common mistake: grinding it to dust; it should be coarse and slightly flaky. Chef's tip: rub the dried leaves with a few drops of olive oil before mixing; it wakes their aroma and helps the sumac cling.

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Kabees lifit

No falafel or shawarma wrap in Beirut is complete without a few batons of kabees lifit, the crunchy, vinegary pickled turnips that glow pink from a slice of raw beetroot in the jar. Lebanese families put them up in autumn when turnips are young and sweet, and a bowl sits on the mezze table next to olives and green chillies. They are sharp, salty and crisp, and cut through grilled meats, fried kibbeh and hummus. Common mistake: using iodised table salt, which clouds the brine; use pure fine salt or sea salt. Chef's tip: choose small, firm turnips with smooth skins — big woody ones stay bitter however long they pickle.

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Mahyaveh-style anchovy and spice spread

In Bandar Abbas, Lar and the villages of Hormozgan, mahyaveh is a dark, pungent sauce made by leaving tiny fish with salt, mustard seed and spices to ferment in the sun for weeks; it is smeared on hot flatbread for breakfast or with eggs. That open-air fermentation is hard to control safely at home, so this version gets the same deep, salty flavour from ready-cured anchovy fillets blended with toasted mustard seed, cumin, coriander seed, fennel and a little vinegar, and it lives in the fridge from the start. It is still a cured-fish product: not for pregnant women, young children or anyone with a weakened immune system. A common mistake is spreading it thickly like a pâté; it is a seasoning, so a thin smear is enough. Chef's tip: toast the spices until the mustard seeds just start to pop, which takes the raw bitterness out and gives the spread its roasted edge.

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Preserved lemons (l'hamd marked)

No Moroccan pantry is complete without a jar of l'hamd marked, lemons packed in salt and their own juice and left for about a month until the rind softens and takes on a mellow, floral, almost sweet flavour. The rind is what you use: finely chopped into salads, slivered over chicken with olives, added to fish tagines, chermoula and bean dishes. Fez cooks traditionally use small, thin-skinned doqq or beldi lemons, but any unwaxed lemon works. Hands-on work is only 20 minutes; the jar then needs 3–4 weeks in a cool, dark cupboard before it is ready. Chef's tip: press the lemons down hard every day for the first week; as they release juice they shrink, and you can squeeze one more lemon into the jar.

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Ras el hanout

Ras el hanout means 'head of the shop', and every spice seller in the Marrakech souk will tell you theirs is the best: a warm, complex mix of a dozen or more spices that they grind to their own formula. This home version balances earthy cumin and coriander with sweet cinnamon, ginger and turmeric, the perfume of cardamom and dried rosebuds, and the heat of black pepper. Rub it on vegetables before roasting, stir a teaspoon into tagines, lentils or couscous broth, or season chickpeas and roast pumpkin with it. Toasting the whole spices first takes 5 minutes and makes a real difference. Chef's tip: make small batches and store the blend in a sealed jar away from light; it is at its best for about 3 months.

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Xawaash

Xawaash (pronounced 'ha-wash') is the spice mix every Somali kitchen keeps in a jar, used in rice, soups, stews, sambuusa fillings and even tea. Families toast and grind their own, often in quantity before Ramadan, and the balance of warm cumin, earthy coriander and sweet cardamom and cinnamon varies from house to house. It is different from Yemeni hawaij and Ethiopian berbere: there is no chilli in it. Chef's tip: toast each spice only until it darkens a shade and smells warm; burnt cumin turns the whole jar bitter.

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Sauerkraut

Sauerkraut is how German households have kept cabbage through the winter for centuries, and autumn is still when families in Baden, Franconia and Alsace shred the new white cabbage into stoneware crocks. It's nothing but cabbage and salt: the salt pulls out the juice and natural lactic acid bacteria do the rest, turning it sour, crunchy and full of flavour in a few weeks. Raw homemade sauerkraut tastes far fresher than the jar and is a lovely side for Kartoffelpuffer or potato mash; for a warm side, simmer it with onion and a grated apple. Chef's tip: weigh the cabbage and use exactly 2% of its weight in salt; too little and it goes soft and mouldy, too much and it won't ferment.

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Madeleines

Madeleines come from Commercy, a small town in Lorraine, where they've been sold in boxes to travellers since the 1700s, and Proust made them famous dipped in lime-blossom tea. These little scallop-shaped sponges are crisp and golden at the edges, soft and buttery inside, and should have a proud hump on the back. French children eat them for goûter, the after-school snack, and they are best within an hour of baking. You'll need a madeleine tin. Chef's tip: chill the batter and the buttered tin before baking; putting room-temperature batter in a warm tin is the common mistake and the madeleines come out flat with no hump.

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Bajan seasoning

Every cook in Barbados keeps a jar of Bajan seasoning, and families in Bridgetown and St Philip guard their own blend. It's a wet, coarse paste of spring onion, onion, garlic, fresh thyme, marjoram and parsley, sharpened with lime and given a backbone of clove, paprika and scotch bonnet. Bajans press it into slits in fish and meat; here it goes into stews, onto roasted vegetables, tofu and halloumi, and into the stew for cou-cou. It smells strongly herby and peppery, and keeps for weeks. Chef's tip: marjoram is the herb that makes it Bajan; don't skip it, and use fresh if you can find it.

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Epis

Epis is the jar that lives in every Haitian fridge, in Port-au-Prince flats and in Haitian kitchens in Miami, Montreal and Boston alike, and it's made fresh most weeks. Flat-leaf parsley, spring onion, garlic, sweet peppers and thyme are pounded or blended with a few cloves, a little scotch bonnet, oil and lime into a loose green paste. It is the first thing into the pot for rice and beans, legim and soup joumou, and it's rubbed over vegetables and tofu before they're fried. Raw it smells bright and herby; cooked it turns sweet, savoury and gently warm with clove. Chef's tip: use whole cloves and grind them yourself; just three or four give epis its signature warmth, but more turns it medicinal.

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Anzac biscuits

Anzac biscuits are baked in kitchens all over Australia and New Zealand in the days before 25 April, Anzac Day, when both countries remember the soldiers of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps who landed at Gallipoli in 1915. Recipes appeared in fundraising cookbooks soon after the war, and they keep well because they contain no eggs: just oats, flour, coconut, sugar, butter and golden syrup, raised with bicarbonate of soda. Bake them short for chewy, longer for crunchy; every family has its side. Chef's tip: add the bicarbonate to the hot butter and syrup and wait for it to foam up before mixing; that froth is what makes them light and lacy.

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Berbere

Berbere is the red, warmly spiced powder that gives Ethiopian wats their colour and heat. In markets like Addis Mercato, women sell it by the scoop, and in Gojjam and Gondar families still dry chillies on rooftops and grind their own mix once a year. Each household's version differs, but most combine hot dried red chillies with paprika, fenugreek, coriander, cardamom, ginger, cloves and allspice. This quick home version toasts whole spices and grinds them with ready-ground chilli. The hotter blend mitmita (bird's eye chilli, cardamom, cloves and salt) is its fiery cousin for sprinkling at the table. Chef's tip: toast the whole spices only until they smell fragrant; once fenugreek turns dark brown it becomes bitter.

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Puerto Rican sofrito

Open a freezer anywhere in Puerto Rico, or in the Puerto Rican neighbourhoods of New York and Orlando, and you'll find a tub or ice-cube tray of green sofrito. It is the start of almost everything savoury on the island: beans, rice, stews, soups and sauces. Unlike the slow-cooked Spanish sofrito, this one is raw, blended from culantro (recao), cilantro, little sweet ajíes dulces, cubanelle peppers, onion and lots of garlic. It smells grassy and sharp in the jar and turns mellow and savoury as soon as it hits hot oil. Chef's tip: if you can't find ajíes dulces, use extra red pepper and a tiny piece of seeded scotch bonnet; you want their fruity perfume, not heat.

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Ayib

Ayib is the soft, crumbly fresh cheese that Ethiopians serve alongside spicy food to cool the mouth, especially with kitfo and gomen in the Gurage country south of Addis Ababa, where it is made from the buttermilk left after churning butter. It tastes very mild and slightly tangy, a little like ricotta or cottage cheese, and is often mixed with herbs or a pinch of mitmita. This home version uses milk and buttermilk, heated until they separate. Chef's tip: once the curds form, take it off the heat; boiling makes them tough and rubbery.

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Kladdkaka

Kladdkaka, literally 'sticky cake', is the chocolate cake Swedish teenagers learn to make first, because it needs one pan, no mixer and no raising agent. The outside bakes to a thin, crackly crust while the centre stays fudgy and almost molten, somewhere between a brownie and a chocolate pudding. In Sweden it turns up at birthday parties, after Friday tacos and at summer cottages, cut into wedges and served with lightly whipped cream and a few raspberries or lingonberries. Cocoa, not bar chocolate, gives it its classic flavour. Chef's tip: take it out when the middle still wobbles like set jelly; it firms up as it cools and a fully set kladdkaka is just a dry chocolate cake.

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Kroeung (Khmer lemongrass paste)

Almost every Khmer kitchen, from Phnom Penh flats to village houses around Siem Reap, starts the day's cooking by pounding kroeung in a heavy stone mortar. This is the yellow kind, coloured with fresh turmeric and built on lemongrass, galangal, makrut lime leaf, garlic and shallot; it goes into amok, samlor korko, noodle curries and stir-fries. Homemade, it smells brighter and more citrusy than any jar, and a batch keeps for a week in the fridge or months in the freezer. Chef's tip: slice the lemongrass into paper-thin rounds across the grain before it goes near the mortar or blender; long fibres never break down and leave the paste stringy.

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Savoury herb scones

Light savoury scones made from rice flour and gram flour, flavoured with dried basil, oregano, mustard and black pepper and topped with poppy seeds. Shaped as one round and marked into 8 wedges, they are good warm with soup or salad. The book's recipe uses one egg; to make them eggless, leave it out and add an extra 60 ml soya milk and 1 tsp baking powder.

30 minBaking
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Peanut butter cookies

Chewy-crisp cookies made with crunchy peanut butter, honey and condensed milk, with rice crisps for crunch and roasted peanuts on top. No creaming needed: everything is melted together.

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