All recipes

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Nam bai toey (pandan drink)

Every Thai garden seems to have a clump of pandan by the tap, and on hot days cooks across the country blitz a handful of leaves into this bright green drink sold at temple fairs and noodle shops. It tastes sweet, grassy and faintly of vanilla and basmati, and is said to cool the body. Fresh leaves give the best colour; frozen ones from Asian shops work well too. Chef's tip: the mistake is serving it unstrained or leaving it for hours; strain it twice through cloth and drink it the same day, as it fades and turns grey.

15 min

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Nam takrai (lemongrass drink)

Thai spa receptions and roadside rice shops both pour this from big glass jars, and in Chiang Mai and Bangkok homes a pot is often simmering on hot afternoons. Bruised lemongrass gives a clean, lemony, slightly grassy taste and pandan a soft vanilla note; lightly sweetened, it is refreshing over ice and soothing warm on a rainy-season evening. Chef's tip: the usual mistake is chopping the lemongrass fine and boiling it hard, which makes it bitter; bash the stalks and simmer gently.

20 min

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Yam nua (grilled beef salad)

Beer gardens and seafood restaurants around Bangkok put yam nua on the table as a drinking snack, but at home it is just as good with sticky or jasmine rice on a hot evening. Thick beef steak is grilled hard over charcoal, sliced and tossed while still warm with cucumber, tomato, onion, mint and coriander in a dressing that is very sour, salty and hot. Thai cooks often serve the beef quite rare; this recipe cooks it to medium so it is pink but not raw in the middle, which is safer for everyone at the table. Chef's tip: rest the steak before slicing and slice across the grain; cutting it straight off the grill floods the board with juice and leaves the strips chewy.

27 min

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Yam som o (pomelo salad)

Pomelos from Nakhon Chai Si, west of Bangkok, are prized for their dry, juicy segments, and when they come into season in late summer this salad appears on restaurant menus across the central plains. The segments are broken into bursting sacs and tossed with toasted coconut, crisp shallots and peanuts in a dressing of lime, palm sugar and nam prik pao, so it eats sweet, sour, nutty and only mildly hot. Restaurants usually add poached prawns, fish sauce and a chilli jam made with dried shrimp; this version uses tamari and a vegan nam prik pao so it suits everyone. Chef's tip: dress the pomelo just before serving and toss with your fingertips; stirring hard with a spoon bursts the sacs and leaves a watery bowl.

25 min

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Plah goong (prawn salad with lemongrass)

Plah is the old Thai word for a salad of barely cooked seafood or meat, and plah goong is a favourite at restaurants along the Gulf coast in Phetchaburi and Hua Hin, where the prawns come in that morning. The dressing of lime and nam prik pao is sweet, sour and smoky, and thin slices of raw lemongrass and kaffir lime leaf make it fragrant and crunchy. Traditionally the prawns are only seared or even served barely 'cooked' by the lime; this recipe cooks them through, which is safer. Chef's tip: dress the prawns while they are still warm, not straight from the fridge; cold prawns won't soak up any of the dressing.

20 min

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Yam makheua yao (grilled aubergine salad)

In Bangkok's evening markets, cooks blister long green aubergines straight over charcoal until the skins blacken, then peel them and dress the soft, smoky flesh with lime, chilli, shallot and plenty of herbs. It is a cooling side for grilled meats and sticky rice, or a light lunch on its own. Stalls usually top it with minced pork or dried shrimp and season with fish sauce; here crisp fried tofu and tamari make it vegan. Chef's tip: char the aubergines until they collapse completely and the skin is papery; pulling them off too soon leaves spongy, bitter centres.

30 min

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Nom yen (pink milk)Pink iced milk

Thai drink stalls outside schools and markets keep a bottle of red sala syrup next to the condensed milk for this sweet, bubblegum-pink milk, a favourite of children from Bangkok to Hat Yai. Sala is a tangy palm fruit, and the syrup tastes of it lightly, almost like cream soda; any red sala-flavoured syrup from an Asian shop works. Shake it with ice until frothy. Chef's tip: the mistake is too much syrup, which turns it lurid and cloying; start with a tablespoon per glass and add more to taste.

5 min

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Khai toon (Thai steamed egg with pork)

Thai parents across the country make khai toon when a child is off their food or someone is unwell: eggs beaten with stock, a little minced pork and spring onion, steamed in a bowl until just set and wobbling. It goes on the table with rice and a stir-fry for supper and costs almost nothing. This version uses pork mince; for a vegetarian bowl, use chopped shiitake instead and season with salt or light soy sauce. It contains egg and fish sauce. Chef's tip: steam over a gentle simmer, not a rolling boil; high heat pocks the custard with holes and turns it spongy.

20 min

Thai Sides

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Yam hua plee (banana blossom salad)

Banana trees grow in every back yard in central Thailand, and the purple blossom, shredded fine, turns into this crunchy, slightly astringent salad served at family gatherings and temple fairs. It is tossed with poached chicken and prawns in coconut cream, lime and nam prik pao, with toasted peanuts and crisp shallots, so it is creamy, sour and gently smoky. For a vegetarian version, use fried tofu instead of the meat, a vegan chilli jam and soy sauce instead of fish sauce. Chef's tip: drop each shredded handful straight into lime water as you cut; banana blossom left in the air turns black within a minute.

40 min

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Nam dok anchan (butterfly pea lemonade)

Vines of butterfly pea climb fences in gardens all over Thailand, and cafés from Bangkok to Krabi serve the flowers as an iced drink that changes colour at the table. The tea itself is mild and earthy, blue as ink; stirring in lime juice turns it violet and makes it tangy, which children love to watch. Chef's tip: the common mistake is mixing the lime in beforehand; serve the blue tea and lime separately so the colour change happens in the glass.

15 min

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Nam krachiap (roselle drink)

In the dry hot season Thai markets from Isan to Bangkok sell bags of this ruby drink tied with a straw, made from the dried calyces of the roselle plant grown in the northeast. It tastes like cranberry with a floral edge, sharply tart and only lightly sweet, with a pinch of salt to lift it. Drink it very cold; it keeps for days in the fridge. Chef's tip: the mistake is boiling the roselle for a long time, which turns it bitter and dull; simmer briefly and then let it steep off the heat.

20 min

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Yam khai dao (fried egg salad)

Late-night aharn tam sang (cooked-to-order) shops in Bangkok make this in minutes for students and taxi drivers: eggs fried hard in hot oil until the whites blister and lace at the edges, then cut up and tossed with onion, Chinese celery, tomato and chilli in a tart dressing. The runny yolks melt into the dressing, so it is rich and sour at once; eat it with plain jasmine rice. Restaurants use fish sauce, but light soy (tamari here) keeps it vegetarian. Chef's tip: the oil must be really hot before the eggs go in; eggs fried gently in cool oil stay pale and rubbery and never get the crunchy frill that makes this salad.

18 min

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Yam tua plu (wing bean salad)

Wing beans grow on fences in back gardens all over central Thailand, and their frilly, four-edged slices make one of the most loved yam on a family table, eaten alongside a curry and rice at dinner. The beans are blanched for seconds so they stay crunchy and grassy, then coated in coconut cream sharpened with lime and nam prik pao, with peanuts and crisp shallots on top. The usual restaurant version adds poached prawns or minced pork and seasons with fish sauce; this one uses tamari, so it is vegan. Look for wing beans in Asian grocers; fine green beans work too. Chef's tip: the common mistake is overcooking the beans; blanch them for 30 seconds only and plunge into iced water, or they turn olive-grey and limp.

20 min

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Mandi'o chyryryFried cassava with onion and egg

Mandi'o chyryry means 'fried cassava' in Guaraní, and it is what rural Paraguayan families make from yesterday's boiled mandi'o: chunks crushed and fried in a big pan with onion until crisp in places, then scrambled with eggs. It comes out for breakfast with cocido or for a quick supper, and costs next to nothing. Use sweet cassava, the kind sold in supermarkets. The mistake is stirring constantly, which turns it to mush; let the cassava sit and brown. Chef's tip: the best chyryry starts with cold, day-old boiled cassava, which fries crisper than freshly boiled.

45 min

Paraguayan Sides

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Jugo surtidoMixed fruit juice

Step up to any juguería in Lima's Mercado de Surquillo or a barrio market at breakfast time and order a surtido: the juicer drops papaya, banana, pineapple and freshly squeezed orange into a tall blender, sometimes a slice of cooked beetroot for colour or a splash of milk, and pours you a big glass with the rest left in the jug for your 'yapa', the free refill. It is thick but still pourable, sweet from ripe fruit with a sharp orange edge, the kind of drink that stands in for breakfast before a long day. The common mistake is adding lots of ice and water, which makes it thin and frothy rather than velvety. Use cold fruit and freshly squeezed orange juice as the liquid. It is ready when it coats the glass and no lumps of banana are left. This version is fruit only; stalls also make it with milk if you prefer. Drink it straight away: papaya and banana go brown and bitter within half an hour. Chef's tip: use very ripe papaya with orange flesh; under-ripe papaya tastes of nothing and gives a faintly bitter aftertaste.

10 min

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Nam lamyai (longan drink)

Longan orchards cover the valleys of Chiang Mai and Lamphun, and every August the harvest is smoked and dried in big brick ovens so the fruit lasts all year. That dried lamyai is the base of nam lamyai, sold in plastic bags with a straw at Warorot Market, at roadside stalls on the way to Doi Suthep and in school canteens across the north, especially in the hot season from March to May. It tastes like toffee and smoked honey with a light floral note, and each glass comes with a few plump, chewy longans at the bottom to fish out. The common mistake is boiling the fruit too long with all the sugar at the start: the drink turns syrupy and the longans go mushy. Simmer the fruit first, sweeten at the end and taste before adding everything. It is ready when the liquid is clear amber-brown, the longans have swollen back to roughly their fresh size and the kitchen smells of caramel. It keeps 4 days in a closed jug in the fridge. Chef's tip: a tiny pinch of salt is the street-vendor trick that makes the sweetness taste rounder and brings out the smoky edge.

30 min

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Mate de muñaAndean mint tea

Muña is the minty shrub that grows wild on the slopes around Cusco, Puno and the Sacred Valley, and highland cooks reach for it after a heavy meal of chicharrón or when visitors are struggling with the altitude. Market herb sellers sell it in fresh bunches, and hotels and homes leave it in a flask for anyone coming in from the cold evenings. Steeped simply in hot water, it smells somewhere between spearmint, oregano and pennyroyal, with a cooling, slightly peppery taste and a pale green-gold colour. It is traditionally drunk to settle the stomach. The usual mistake is boiling the leaves hard for a long time, which turns the tea brown and bitter. Pour water just off the boil over the sprigs, cover, and let it steep. It is ready when the cup is pale gold and the aroma rises as soon as you lift the lid. Outside Peru, look for dried muña in Latin shops; failing that, use mostly spearmint with a little fresh oregano. Muña is strong: avoid large amounts in pregnancy, and check with a doctor if you take regular medication. Chef's tip: cover the cup while it steeps so the scented oils stay in the tea.

8 min

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Pisco sour

Lima drinks its pisco sour as the aperitif before a long ceviche lunch, and celebrates it every year on the first Saturday of February; the recipe took shape in the city's bars in the 1920s. It is for adults only and stronger than its pillowy look suggests. Underneath a thick white foam you get sharp Peruvian lime, a clean sweetness and the floral, grapey warmth of quebranta pisco, with the bitters adding a spicy smell to every sip. The texture should be silky, almost creamy, never thin. The classic mistake is squeezing the limes too hard or too early: the oil from the pith turns the drink bitter within half an hour. Halve the limes, press each half gently by hand just before mixing and stop when the juice slows. The egg white is raw, so use pasteurised egg white for anyone pregnant, for babies, older people or anyone unwell, or swap in 30 ml aquafaba. It is ready when the foam stands about 1 cm high and is firm enough to hold the drops of bitters on its surface. Sip one slowly and drink responsibly. Chef's tip: shake once without ice first to whip the egg white, then again with ice; the foam will be twice as thick.

5 min

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Chilcano de piscoPisco and ginger ale highball

When Lima's grey winter finally lifts and summer reaches the beaches south of the city, the chilcano takes over from the pisco sour: lighter, longer and made for an afternoon. Peru even gives it a Semana del Chilcano each January, and it is poured at weekend lunches with chifa or fried fish. This is a highball for adults only: pisco poured over a tall glass of ice with fresh lime and ginger ale, finished with a few drops of bitters. It should taste crisp and fizzy, with the ginger and lime lifting the floral grape notes of the pisco rather than hiding them. The common mistake is using too little ice and warm ginger ale, which gives a sweet, diluted drink that goes flat in minutes. Fill the glass to the top with ice and keep the ginger ale in the fridge until the last second. It is ready when the glass is frosty, the bubbles race up the sides and the bitters drift through the top as a pink haze. Light it may be, but drink responsibly. Chef's tip: try a fruit-infused pisco, made by steeping passion fruit or mandarin peel in the bottle for a few days; Limeños love a chilcano de maracuyá.

10 min

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Jugo de macaWarm maca drink

Before dawn at markets in Huancayo, Cusco and Lima, juice ladies ladle hot jugo de maca from big pots for workers on their way in: maca root, a turnip relative grown above 4,000 metres in the Junín highlands, simmered with milk, cinnamon and cloves and sweetened with honey or sugar. It tastes malty and toasty, a bit like butterscotch. The common mistake is stirring the powder straight into hot milk, which leaves gritty lumps; whisk it into a little cold milk first. Maca is not usually advised in pregnancy, so ask your doctor first if you are pregnant. Chef's tip: use gelatinised (cooked) maca powder if you can find it; it dissolves smoothly and is gentler on the stomach.

10 min

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Kafae boran (old-style Thai coffee)

Before espresso bars reached Bangkok, coffee in Thailand meant kafae boran from Hainanese-Chinese shophouses and market carts: a dark robusta roast mixed with toasted grains, poured through a long cotton sock called a tung tom and stirred into thick sweetened condensed milk. Uncles still order it hot at 6 am with patongko dough sticks, and in the afternoon heat the same brew is poured over crushed ice and topped with evaporated milk as oliang or kafae yen. The taste is strong, roasty and slightly smoky, sweet and creamy, with a faint caramel-cereal edge from the grains; the iced version is silky and cold. The common mistake is brewing it like filter coffee with too little grounds: once milk and ice go in, it tastes thin. Use plenty, steep it in the sock and pour it through twice. The brew is ready when it is opaque, nearly black and leaves a brown film on a white spoon. It is high in caffeine, so not one for children or late evenings. Chef's tip: rinse the cloth sock in hot water only, never soap, and keep it in a jar of clean water in the fridge between uses so the coffee oils season it.

10 min

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Refresco de coconaCocona cooler

In Iquitos, Pucallpa and the river towns of Loreto, heat and humidity make a cold refresco part of every lunch, and cocona is one of the favourites sold from plastic jugs at the Belén market. The fruit looks like a fuzzy orange tomato and tastes between tomato, lemon and apricot: very sour, aromatic and juicy. Blended with water and sugar it makes a tangy, golden drink with a light pulp, served with juane or tacacho con cecina. The usual mistake is skipping the fuzz: cocona skin is covered in fine hairs that make the drink scratchy, so rub them off under running water before you start. Blend only briefly, too, so the many seeds do not crack. It is ready when the refresco is opaque orange, sour first and sweet after, with no grit. Outside the Amazon, look for frozen cocona pulp in Latin American shops; naranjilla (lulo) pulp is the closest substitute. Chef's tip: a pinch of salt makes the fruit taste sweeter and fruitier without more sugar.

10 min