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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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French 75

The French 75 took its name from the light field gun of the First World War, because Parisian bartenders of the late 1910s and 1920s said it hit you just as hard. It has stayed a celebration drink in Paris and beyond: raised at weddings, New Year's Eve and long weekend brunches. It is for adults only and stronger than it tastes, so drink responsibly. A good one is bright and lemony with gin botanicals underneath, then a fine, persistent Champagne fizz that makes it feel light and dry. The common mistake is putting the sparkling wine in the shaker, which either blows the lid off or leaves the drink completely flat. Shake only the gin, lemon and syrup with ice, strain them into the glass and top with Champagne there. It is ready when the shaker is frosted, the foam has risen and fallen once, and a steady stream of small bubbles runs up the flute. Any dry traditional-method sparkling wine such as crémant works in place of Champagne; check the label if vegan matters. Chef's tip: twist the lemon peel over the glass, not into the shaker; the oil on the surface is the first thing you smell.

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EinspännerBlack coffee with whipped cream

The Einspänner is named after the one-horse carriages of old Vienna: coachmen waiting outside in winter supposedly liked their coffee under a lid of cream that kept it hot and stopped it slopping. Today it is served in a handled glass at classic coffee houses, a strong black mocha (a double espresso or Großer Brauner without milk) topped with a thick layer of cold, lightly sweetened whipped cream and a pinch of icing sugar. You do not stir it: you sip the hot, bitter coffee through the cold, sweet cream, so each mouthful is two temperatures and two textures. It is an afternoon or late-morning coffee, often with a slice of Sachertorte. The common mistake is runny cream that sinks and turns the drink into a milky latte; whip it until it just holds a peak and spoon it on gently so it floats. It is ready when the cream stands at least 2 cm above the coffee and slowly sinks at the edges. It is strong: a double shot of caffeine in one glass. Chef's tip: pour the coffee in first and wait ten seconds before adding the cream, so the crema settles and helps support the cap.

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Wiener MelangeCoffee with milk and foam

In Vienna you never simply order 'a coffee'; you order by name, and the Melange is the one most Viennese ask for. It arrives in a large cup on a small silver tray with a glass of water and often a tiny chocolate, and you may sit over it for an hour with the newspapers at Café Prückel or Hawelka, mid-morning or after lunch. Traditionally it is a mild, longer espresso (a Verlängerter) with roughly equal hot milk and a soft cap of milk foam; it is gentler than a cappuccino and the foam is looser and creamier. Expect a round, nutty, slightly sweet cup with little bitterness. The common mistake is overheating the milk: once it passes about 70 °C it smells cooked and loses its sweetness and the foam turns big-bubbled and dry. Stop when the jug is too hot to hold for more than a second or two. It is ready when the foam sits in a smooth, glossy dome about a finger thick and the coffee shows as a brown ring at the edge. One cup has about the caffeine of a single espresso. Chef's tip: always serve the glass of water alongside, as Vienna does; it is drunk first to clear the palate.

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Tisane de tilleul (linden tea)

Carpentras, at the foot of Mont Ventoux, has been France's linden capital for over a century. In late June the flowering lime trees are harvested by hand, the blossoms and their pale papery bracts dried in the shade, and in July the town's linden market sells them by the sack. In French homes a tisane de tilleul is what you drink after dinner, at the end of a long day or before bed, often with a slice of lemon or a little honey; Proust's famous madeleine was dipped in one. It tastes softly floral and sweet, a little like honey and fresh hay, with a smooth, almost silky feel. The common mistake is using fully boiling water and steeping for fifteen minutes: the tea turns dull brown and slightly astringent. Let the kettle settle to about 90 °C and steep for 5–7 minutes, covered. It is ready when the infusion is pale gold and smells of a summer garden. It is traditionally drunk to unwind; if you take regular medication, have a heart condition, or want to give it to young children, check with a doctor first. Chef's tip: keep the pot covered while it steeps so the scented oils stay in the tea instead of the kitchen.

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Kir

Dijon's own aperitif carries the name of Canon Félix Kir, the priest who became the city's mayor after the war and poured blanc-cassis at every reception to show off two Burgundy products at once: the sharp white Aligoté grape and the blackcurrant liqueur made around the city. It is still what you are offered before a family Sunday lunch in Burgundy, with a warm plate of gougères. It is a drink for adults only, low-key and refreshing: tart, mineral white wine with a dark, jammy blackcurrant note, deep ruby-violet in the glass, served cold with no ice. The usual mistake is too much cassis, which makes a sticky, syrupy drink that hides the wine. Keep to about one part cassis to five or six parts wine. It is ready when the colour is a clear, deep pink-purple you can still see light through and the glass mists with cold. Enjoy one before the meal and drink responsibly. If you cannot find Aligoté, use any dry, unoaked, high-acid white. Swap the wine for Champagne or crémant and you have a kir royal. Chef's tip: pour the cassis in first and the wine on top; it mixes itself and you need not stir.

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Cocido quemadoBurnt sugar mate drink

Cocido is how Paraguay starts the day: in Asunción, in the villages of Guairá and Itapúa, and in school kitchens, a pot of burnt yerba is brewed and poured into cups with chipa, the cheesy cassava bread, or with a hard galleta. The old way is to drop a glowing piece of charcoal into a pot with yerba and sugar and stir until the sugar burns. On a home stove you caramelise them together in a dry pan instead, which is safer and gives the same smoky, toffee-like taste. The drink is clear amber-brown, with roasted, slightly bitter mate notes over burnt-sugar sweetness; with milk added it becomes cocido con leche, creamy and coffee-coloured. Yerba mate contains caffeine, so treat it like a cup of coffee. The common mistake is letting the sugar go black: it turns acrid and bitter. Pull it off the heat when the caramel is deep amber and the yerba smells toasted, not burnt. It is ready when the liquid is a clear dark amber and tastes of toffee and smoke. Chef's tip: the water will spit fiercely when it hits the hot caramel, so pour it in from the side, at arm's length.

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TereréIced yerba mate

In Asunción the hottest part of the day stops for tereré: a horn or cup packed with yerba mate, topped up again and again with ice water infused with crushed herbs, and passed round the group through a metal straw. It was recognised by UNESCO as part of Paraguay's cultural heritage, and the herbs (yuyos) change with the season and the drinker's mood. Yerba mate contains caffeine, so it isn't one for small children. The common mistake is pouring water straight into loose yerba, which then clogs the straw; tilt the yerba to one side first. Chef's tip: for tereré ruso, swap the water for cold orange or grapefruit juice.

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Citron presséFresh lemon drink

Order a citron pressé on a Paris terrace in July, or at a café in Nice after the beach, and the waiter brings a tall glass with an inch of freshly squeezed lemon juice, a carafe of iced water, a sugar bowl or a little jug of syrup and a long spoon. You build the drink yourself, as sharp or as sweet as you like, which is half the pleasure; French children learn to drink it with plenty of sugar, grown-ups often with almost none. It is bright, sour and cleansing, nothing like bottled lemonade, and best in the late afternoon heat. The common mistake is stirring granulated sugar straight into cold lemon water: it sinks and never dissolves, so the first sips are sour and the last a sludge. Dissolve the sugar in the juice first, or use a quick syrup. It is ready when the sugar has vanished, the drink tastes balanced to you and the glass is beaded with cold. Unwaxed lemons matter if you add a twist of peel. Chef's tip: pour the water over ice slowly and taste after half the carafe; most people find they need less water than they expect.

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Diabolo mentheMint syrup and lemonade

Ask anyone who grew up in France about diabolo menthe and they will remember sitting on a café terrace after school, or on holiday in Brittany or the Vendée, with a tall glass of startling green fizz and a straw. It is simply sirop de menthe, the sweet mint syrup sold in every French supermarket, topped up with limonade, which in France means a clear, lightly sweet, lemony fizzy drink. Grenadine makes a diabolo grenadine, lemon syrup a diabolo citron. It tastes cool, minty and sweet, like a liquid mint sweet, with a sharp sparkle. The common mistake is pouring the syrup on top of the lemonade: it sinks in a dense layer and you drink plain fizz followed by pure syrup. Put the syrup in the glass first and pour the lemonade down the side so it mixes as it rises. It is ready when the glass is an even mint-green from bottom to top and still fizzing hard. Café ratio is about one part syrup to seven parts lemonade. Chef's tip: for a homemade syrup, steep a big handful of fresh mint in hot sugar syrup for 30 minutes and strain; it will be pale gold-green rather than emerald, and tastes fresher.

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Gâteau à la farine de châtaigneChestnut flour cake

In the Castagniccia, the chestnut forests of north-east Corsica, the chestnut was called the bread tree, and its sweet, smoky flour went into polenta, fritters and cakes. Every December the village of Bocognano holds a chestnut fair where this simple cake is sold by the slice. Made only with chestnut flour, it is dense and moist, with no wheat at all (check the flour packet if you avoid gluten), and has a flavour somewhere between cocoa and toasted nuts. Serve it with fresh cheese, a spoon of jam or a cup of coffee. Chef's tip: sift chestnut flour twice; it clumps in the bag, and lumps stay as dry pockets in the cake.

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Sablés normandsButter biscuits

The little town of Lisieux, in the Pays d'Auge, has made sablés since the 1800s, and the word means 'sandy', for the way they crumble on the tongue. They are one of the simplest things a Normandy kitchen bakes: good salted butter, sugar, egg yolks and flour, rolled into a log, sliced and baked pale gold. Normans dip them in coffee or serve them with fruit compote, teurgoule or a bowl of fromage blanc, and children grow up with a tin of them in the cupboard. Chef's tip: work the dough as little as possible once the flour goes in; the less you knead, the more tender and sandy the crumb.

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Gâteau bretonSalted butter cake

Somewhere between a shortbread and a cake, gâteau breton is the big round that Breton bakeries cut into wedges for the road, and families buy one for the weekend or a picnic at the coast near Concarneau or Lorient. It is made from almost as much salted butter as flour, with lots of egg yolks, and baked thick so the edges are crisp and the middle is dense, moist and fudgy. The top is glazed and marked with a criss-cross pattern using a fork. Plain is traditional; some bakers add a layer of prune purée in the middle. Chef's tip: chill the dough in the tin before baking; it holds its pattern and bakes up with a sharp, shiny crust.

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Palets bretonsSalted butter biscuits

Palets are the thick cousin of the thin Breton galette biscuit: chunky rounds as wide as a small cookie and nearly a centimetre high, crisp on the outside and crumbly within, tasting strongly of salted butter. Bakeries in Pont-Aven and all along the Finistère coast sell them in tins, and Breton families serve them with coffee, with a bowl of cider-poached apples or crumbled over ice cream. Baking them in muffin tins or metal rings keeps their shape and straight edges. Chef's tip: use proper salted butter rather than adding salt to unsalted; the flavour is rounder and the dough handles better.

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Biscuits roses de ReimsPink dipping biscuits

Bakers in Reims created these pale-pink, sugar-dusted finger biscuits in the late 1600s, baking the dough twice so it would keep, and they are still the city's signature treat. In Champagne it is the custom to dip them into a glass of Champagne, which they soak up without falling apart; at home they are just as good dipped in tea, hot chocolate or a fruit coulis, or layered into a charlotte. The pink colour is from a little food colouring and the vanilla scent fills the kitchen. Chef's tip: dust the piped fingers with icing sugar twice, a few minutes apart; that gives them their fine, crackled crust.

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Gâteau de SavoieAiry sponge cake

Legend says a cook at the court of the Counts of Savoy, in Chambéry, invented this sponge in the fourteenth century to impress a visiting emperor, and Savoyard families still bake it in a tall fluted mould for birthdays and Sunday tea. It has no butter and very little flour, using potato starch for a crumb so light it almost dissolves, and it is eaten plain with a dusting of icing sugar, or with jam, fruit compote or a cup of hot chocolate. Chef's tip: fold the whites in three goes with a large metal spoon, cutting down through the middle; you are keeping in the air that makes it rise.

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Gâteau aux noix du PérigordWalnut cake

Walnut orchards line the Dordogne valley around Sarlat and Périgueux, and after the autumn harvest every farmhouse and market bakery turns the new nuts into this dense, moist cake. It is sold by the slice at Sarlat's Saturday market and eaten in the afternoon with coffee or a glass of walnut-leaf syrup and water, or after Sunday lunch with a spoon of crème fraîche. Ground walnuts replace most of the flour, so it is nutty, slightly bitter and very tender. Chef's tip: toast the walnuts first for 6 minutes; it softens the bitterness of the skins and deepens the flavour.

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Maroilles tart

The Avesnois, the green, hedged corner of northern France near the Belgian border, makes Maroilles, a square, orange-rinded cheese with a powerful smell and a surprisingly gentle, creamy taste. Its most famous use is this tart, sold hot in slices at markets and fairs in Maubeuge and Avesnes-sur-Helpe and eaten with a salad and a cold drink. A yeasted bread-dough base is topped with slices of Maroilles and a little crème fraîche and baked until bubbling. Maroilles is made with animal rennet; a vegetarian washed-rind cheese gives the same melting richness. Chef's tip: leave the rind on; it carries much of the flavour and turns golden in the oven.

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Flamiche aux poireauxLeek and cream tart

Flamiche means 'cake' in old Flemish, and in Picardy, around Amiens and Abbeville, it is a tart of leeks melted slowly in butter and set in eggs and cream, baked in a crisp pastry case and sometimes covered with a pastry lid. The leeks from the market gardens (hortillonnages) of Amiens are famous, and flamiche is served warm as a starter or as a supper with green salad, especially from autumn to spring. The leeks must be cooked until soft and sweet, never browned. Chef's tip: squeeze the cooked leeks in a sieve before adding the custard; any water left in them stops the filling from setting and soaks the pastry.

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CanistrelliAnise biscuits

Every Corsican bakery, from Bastia to Bonifacio, stacks bags of canistrelli: thick, square-cut biscuits that are dry and crunchy outside and crumbly inside, made to be dipped in morning coffee. They come in many flavours, such as lemon, chestnut and almond, but anise seed is the classic. Traditionally the dough is mixed with dry white wine; most of the alcohol bakes off, but if you prefer none at all use apple juice with a squeeze of lemon, as the ingredient list says. With olive or sunflower oil instead of butter, they are vegan. Chef's tip: stop mixing as soon as the dough comes together; kneading makes them hard rather than crumbly.

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Bredele: Alsatian cinnamon stars

From the start of Advent, kitchens across Alsace turn out bredele, dozens of kinds of little Christmas biscuits kept in tins and offered to every visitor until New Year, while the markets in Strasbourg and Kaysersberg sell them by the bag. Cinnamon stars are among the most loved: chewy almond and cinnamon biscuits with a crisp white meringue top, and no flour at all. They take patience rather than skill and keep for weeks, so families make them early in December. The same dough also works rolled into small balls. Chef's tip: spread the meringue on the rolled sheet before you cut the stars, rather than icing each biscuit; it is far quicker and gives a clean, sharp edge.

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Fouace aveyronnaiseOrange blossom brioche crown

Every village fête in the Aveyron, the old province of Rouergue, has a baker selling fouace: a big golden brioche ring scented with orange flower water and topped with crunchy sugar, carried home in a paper bag to be torn up at breakfast or after Sunday lunch. Laguiole and Rodez bakeries are famous for it, and families bake one for Easter, weddings and christenings. It is softer and less buttery than a Paris brioche, with a light, cottony crumb. Chef's tip: let the shaped crown rise until it is puffy and a fingertip leaves a dent that springs back slowly; underproved fouace tears in the oven.

240 minFrenchBaking
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FiadoneLemon cheesecake

Fiadone is the cake of Corsican Easter and village feast days: fresh brocciu, the island's soft ewe's- or goat's-milk whey cheese, beaten with eggs, sugar and lemon zest and baked until the top is freckled brown. There is no base, so it is naturally gluten free, and it tastes lighter and less sweet than most cheesecakes. Brocciu is made from whey left after rennet cheesemaking, so it is not strictly vegetarian; well-drained ricotta labelled vegetarian is the usual stand-in outside Corsica. Some families add a spoon of local eau-de-vie; it is left out here. Chef's tip: drain the cheese well; a dry cheese gives the light, almost soufflé-like texture.

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Canelés de BordeauxVanilla custard cakes

Small, fluted and almost black on the outside, canelés are the signature cake of Bordeaux, sold in pâtisseries all over the city and eaten with morning coffee or at teatime. The thick, caramelised crust cracks to reveal a soft, custardy centre scented with vanilla. The batter traditionally includes dark rum; this version gives it as an option and uses extra vanilla and a little orange zest instead, so it can be made alcohol-free. Copper moulds are traditional, but silicone canelé moulds work well at home. Chef's tip: rest the batter for at least 24 hours in the fridge; fresh batter puffs up like a soufflé and the cakes lose their shape.

1500 minFrenchBaking
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