All recipes

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Gol gav zaban

Gol gav zaban is the calming tea Iranians make on stressful evenings or when a cold is coming on, sold in bags of dried purple flowers by herbalists in the old bazaars of Tehran and Tabriz. Steeped in hot water it turns a dusky blue-brown, then flashes pink the moment lime juice goes in, which children love to watch. It is sipped with a stick of saffron nabat (rock sugar), sometimes with a few dried limes or a pinch of valerian. Persian borage contains small amounts of natural compounds that can strain the liver, so drink it only now and then, and avoid it if you are pregnant, breastfeeding or have liver problems. Chef's tip: steep below boiling and keep the pot covered so the gentle aroma doesn't escape.

10 min

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Ab havij bastani

Every juice bar in Tehran, from Tajrish Square to the stalls of Valiasr Street, sells ab havij bastani: a tall glass of fresh, ice-cold carrot juice with a scoop of saffron ice cream floating on top. People eat it with a long spoon in summer, stirring the melting ice cream into the juice until it turns creamy and pale orange. It is sweet, earthy and cooling, and kids treat it as a dessert. Chef's tip: chill the carrots well before juicing; warm juice melts the ice cream at once and loses its fresh taste.

10 min

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Chapo

Breakfast stalls in Iquitos and the riverside towns of Loreto pour chapo into glasses from big steaming pots before the heat of the day sets in, and by afternoon the same drink is sold chilled. It is made from plantains left until their skins are black, simmered with cinnamon and cloves until soft, then blended smooth and loosened with milk. The result is thick, naturally sweet and gently spiced, somewhere between a smoothie and a thin custard, and children love it. Some families make it with water only; evaporated milk is the common addition in town. The mistake is using plantains that are still yellow-green: they taste starchy and the drink turns grey and gluey, so wait until the skins are mostly black and the fruit gives when pressed. Serve hot with bread or a tamal, or cold over ice. Chef's tip: strain it through a sieve after blending for a silky drink, and thin it with water if it thickens as it cools.

30 min

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Camu camu

Camu camu are small purple-red berries that grow on bushes along the flooded riverbanks of the Peruvian Amazon, and in Iquitos and Pucallpa they are sold as frozen pulp and blended into a sharp, pink refresco at juice bars and lunch places. The flavour is intensely sour, more than lime, with a faint cherry note, and the berries are famous for containing far more vitamin C than oranges. It is the drink people order with a heavy plate of tacacho or rice. Never boil camu camu or make the juice hours ahead: heat and air quickly fade its colour and much of the vitamin C, so blend it cold and drink it soon. Frozen pulp or freeze-dried powder from health-food and Latin shops are the forms you'll find abroad. Chef's tip: start with half the pulp and add more to taste; it's strong enough that a little goes a long way.

10 min

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King kong

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.

150 min

Peruvian Baking

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Turrón de Doña Pepa

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.

120 min

Peruvian Baking

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Champús

When Lima's grey winter sets in, from June to September, champús sellers set up on street corners with big pots of this thick, fruity drink, ladled warm into glasses and eaten as much as drunk. It's made from mote (hulled white corn), simmered with pineapple, quince or apple, soursop, chancaca and warm spices, then thickened lightly with corn flour, so every spoonful has soft fruit and chewy corn in a spiced, molasses-sweet base. It is close in spirit to mazamorra morada but paler and tangier. The mistake people make is adding the thickener straight into the hot pot, where it forms lumps; always slake it in cold water first and pour it in while stirring. Canned or jarred hominy saves hours; frozen soursop (guanábana) pulp is in Latin shops and can be left out. Serve warm in glasses with spoons. Chef's tip: simmer the pineapple peel and core with the spices for the first 20 minutes, then strain them out; they give much of the flavour.

80 min

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Emoliente

Before dawn, all over Peru, emolienteros set up their carts with a row of steaming kettles and jars of herbs, and commuters stop for a glass of emoliente on the way to work. It's a hot infusion of toasted barley, flaxseed and herbs, with lime juice and sugar added to order, and it is drunk for comfort and digestion, especially in Lima's damp winter. The flaxseed gives it a slippery, soothing body; the barley a toasty, almost coffee-like note. Street versions use horsetail, alfalfa, boldo and other herbs; this home version keeps it simple, with horsetail as an option (leave it out if you are pregnant or have kidney problems). The usual error is boiling the flax too long, which makes the drink gloopy; add it for the last 10 minutes only. Serve very hot in glasses, with pan con queso or a sandwich. Barley contains gluten. Chef's tip: toast the barley yourself until it is deep brown; it's what gives emoliente its colour and its roasted flavour.

40 min

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Quinua con manzana

Morning market stalls and street carts from Lima to Huancayo ladle quinua con manzana into glasses alongside emoliente and maca, and many people drink it as breakfast on its own, with a bread roll or a sandwich beside it. Quinoa and chunks of apple are simmered with cinnamon and cloves until the grains burst and the liquid thickens, then sweetened and served warm or cold. Some stalls blend it smooth; others leave the grains and soft apple pieces to spoon up. It is mild, fruity and filling, and children usually like it. The mistake that ruins it is skipping the rinse: quinoa's natural coating, saponin, makes the drink bitter and soapy, so rub it under running water until the foam stops. Chef's tip: add a few drops of lime at the end; it lifts the apple and keeps the drink from tasting flat.

40 min

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Kispiño

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.

55 min

Peruvian Baking

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Aguajina

Aguaje is the scaly, chestnut-red fruit of the moriche palm that grows in the flooded forests around Iquitos, and its orange flesh ends up in ice lollies, ice cream and, above all, aguajina, the cold drink sold in plastic cups at every corner and in Belén market. The taste is unusual and loved locally: tangy, a little like apricot and carrot, with a rich, slightly oily body. Fresh aguaje must be softened in warm water for an hour before its thin layer of pulp can be scraped off; outside Peru, frozen aguaje pulp from Latin American shops is the realistic choice and gives a good result. A common slip is adding all the sugar before tasting: the pulp's sourness varies from pack to pack, so sweeten at the end. Serve very cold with lunch or on a hot afternoon. Chef's tip: blend the pulp with only part of the water first, so it breaks down fully, then stir in the rest.

15 min

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Nan-e Yazdi

Nan-e Yazdi, often called Yazdi cakes, are the small domed cupcakes every Iranian bakery sells for breakfast and afternoon tea, first made in Yazd and now loved in Tehran and far beyond. The crumb is soft and a little dense, perfumed with cardamom and rosewater, and the tops are scattered with pistachio or sesame before baking. Children eat them dunked in milk. A common mistake is overbeating after the flour goes in, which makes the cakes tough and peaked; fold just until smooth. Chef's tip: rest the batter in the fridge for an hour before baking for a taller, crackled dome.

37 min

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Haji badam

Haji badam are the small, pale almond cookies of Yazd, crisp at the edge and soft and chewy inside, baked for Nowruz and kept in tins for guests through the new year. They need only ground almonds, sugar, egg yolk and cardamom, so they are naturally gluten-free. Each one is rolled into a ball and pinched or pressed with a pistachio sliver. A common mistake is baking them until golden all over: pull them when only the bottoms colour, or they go hard and dry. Chef's tip: let the dough rest in the fridge for 30 minutes, which makes it much easier to roll without cracking.

35 min

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Koloocheh Fuman

On the road from Rasht up to the hill village of Masuleh, the little town of Fuman is lined with bakeries selling koloocheh: thick round cookies, crisp outside and cake-like inside, filled with ground walnut, sugar and cardamom and stamped with a pattern on top. Travellers buy them by the box for tea, and they are a favourite gift at Nowruz. A common mistake is overworking the dough, which makes them tough rather than tender and crumbly. Chef's tip: chill the filled discs for 15 minutes before stamping and baking, so the pattern stays sharp and the walnut filling does not burst through.

65 min

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Ghorabieh Tabrizi

Every traveller to Tabriz is expected to bring back a box of ghorabieh from the bazaar confectioners: pale, domed almond cookies with a thin crackled shell and a soft, chewy middle, scented with vanilla and sometimes topped with a sliver of pistachio. They are a Nowruz favourite in Azerbaijan province and keep well, so families bake them a week ahead. A common mistake is baking them too hot, which browns the outside before the inside sets and leaves them hollow. Chef's tip: let the piped cookies sit for 20 minutes before baking so a skin forms; that skin gives the classic crackled top.

55 min

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Kolompeh

Kolompeh is the pride of Kerman, a flat, round pastry stamped with a pattern on top and filled with date paste spiced with cardamom, cinnamon and a little fennel seed. Kermanis bake it for Nowruz and for guests, and it keeps well enough to travel, which is why tins of it go home with every visitor. The pastry is short and tender with a hint of sweetness. A common mistake is making the date filling too wet, which seeps through the pastry; it should be a stiff paste you can roll into a ball. Chef's tip: warm the dates for a few seconds before mashing, and they turn into a smooth paste in moments.

70 min

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Nan-e berenji

Kermanshah in western Iran is famous for its nan-e berenji, and in the weeks before Nowruz bakeries there pack them by the boxful for guests who come visiting through the holiday. Made with rice flour, they are pale, crumbly and melt on the tongue, scented with cardamom and rosewater and sprinkled with a few poppy seeds. Many families make the dough a day ahead. The common mistake is letting them colour in the oven; they should come out white with only the faintest gold underneath. Chef's tip: rest the dough in the fridge for at least an hour so the rice flour hydrates; otherwise the cookies crack and spread.

120 min

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Nan-e nokhodchi

No Nowruz tea tray in Tehran or Qazvin looks complete without a pile of tiny four-leafed nan-e nokhodchi, each topped with a sliver of pistachio. They are made from flour of roasted chickpeas, so they taste nutty and slightly savoury under the sugar, and they dissolve almost instantly on the tongue. Bakers make them by the thousand in March, but they are simple at home with a small clover cutter. The common mistake is using raw gram flour, which tastes beany and bitter; the flour must be from roasted chickpeas, or toasted first. Chef's tip: knead the dough longer than you think, 8–10 minutes, until it turns smooth and pale; that is what gives the melting texture.

118 min

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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.

30 min

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Shirini-ye zaban

Shirini-ye zaban, tongue pastries, are the long, glossy puff-pastry ovals in every Iranian confectioner's window, from Tabriz to Kerman, and a fixture on the tray of sweets served to Nowruz visitors. The pastry is rolled out on sugar so it caramelises into a crisp, shiny, flaky finger. This version uses good bought all-butter puff pastry, as many home bakers do; check the label for butter rather than lard to keep it vegetarian. Chef's tip: chill the shaped tongues for 15 minutes before baking so the layers rise high instead of melting flat.

50 min

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Sharbat-e albaloo

In early summer, when sour cherries arrive from the orchards around Karaj and Mashhad, families make a big batch of sharbat-e albaloo, the deep ruby syrup that is mixed with iced water for guests through the hot months. It is sweet, sharp and very refreshing, and the cooked cherries left over are not wasted: they go into albaloo polo, the cherry rice. A splash of the syrup also goes over shaved ice or yogurt. Chef's tip: stop cooking as soon as the syrup coats a spoon thinly; overcooked syrup loses its fresh cherry flavour and tastes of jam.

45 min

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Sharbat-e beh limoo

Quince and lime syrup is an old-fashioned Persian cooler, the drink grandmothers in Isfahan and Tehran bring out on hot afternoons, said to settle the stomach and cool the body. Grated quince simmered in syrup turns from cream to a soft rosy amber and gives a floral, almost honeyed scent; fresh lime juice cuts through the sweetness. Diluted with iced water, it is lovely after a heavy meal of rice and stew. Chef's tip: cook the grated quince gently for the full time; the colour only turns pink after long, slow simmering.

55 min