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Martín FierroCheese with quince paste

Ask for dessert in a Montevideo bodegón or a country parador and you may be offered a Martín Fierro: a thick slice of fresh, mild cheese laid with an equal slice of dense quince or sweet-potato paste, named after the gaucho of the epic poem. It's salty against sweet, soft against firm, and takes two minutes to assemble. Uruguayan fresh cheese is usually made with animal rennet, so choose one with vegetarian rennet if that matters to you. The mistake is serving it fridge-cold, which dulls both flavours. Chef's tip: cut the cheese and paste to exactly the same thickness, about 1 cm, so every bite has both.

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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.

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KoserevaCandied bitter orange peel

Kosereva is a Paraguayan home preserve from the days when nothing was wasted: thick strips of bitter-orange peel soaked and boiled to soften their bite, then cooked slowly in dark cane molasses until glossy and nearly black. In the countryside it is eaten after lunch with a slice of fresh cheese or simply on its own. Bitter oranges (Seville oranges) are in season in winter. The most common mistake is not changing the boiling water enough, which leaves the peel unpleasantly bitter. Chef's tip: taste a sliver of peel after the third boil; it should be gently bitter like marmalade, not harsh.

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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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BusecaTripe and white bean stew

Buseca arrived in Montevideo with Italian immigrants from Lombardy and became a classic winter dish of Uruguayan bodegones and family kitchens, eaten on cold June and July days. Honeycomb tripe is simmered until tender, then stewed with white beans, pork chorizo, bacon, peppers, tomato and paprika into a thick, warming stew served with crusty bread. Buy tripe that is already cleaned and blanched (dressed). The usual mistake is undercooking the tripe: it needs a full 2 hours, until it's soft enough to cut with a spoon. Slow-cooker option: after step 4, cook on low for 8 hours. Chef's tip: a little grated lemon zest and parsley stirred in at the end lifts the rich, gelatinous sauce.

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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.

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Cremolada (Lima passion fruit slush)

From January to March, when Lima's coast swelters, queues form at the cremolada counters of Barranco and along the Jirón de la Unión downtown for cups of this thick fruit ice. It sits between a granita and a sorbet: frozen fruit pulp scraped again and again until it is slushy and spoonable, with real bits of fruit through it. Passion fruit (maracuyá) gives a sharp, bright flavour; creamy lúcuma, with its maple and sweet potato taste, is the other favourite. Chef's tip: use a shallow metal tray; it freezes faster and evenly, so you get fine crystals rather than chunks.

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Morcilla dulceSweet blood sausage with walnuts

No Uruguayan parrilla is complete without morcilla dulce: a soft pork blood sausage sweetened with sugar and scented with orange peel, studded with walnuts and raisins, grilled until the skin crisps and served first, as part of the achuras, while the beef is still cooking. It is pork throughout: pork blood, pork back fat and natural pork casings. Making it at home is a project. Buy fresh pork blood with an anticoagulant added from a butcher who supplies it for sausage making, keep it chilled below 4 °C and use it within a day. The common mistake is poaching at a rolling boil, which bursts the casings. Chef's tip: keep the water at 80–85 °C, just shivering, and prick a sausage after 25 minutes: it is done when brown, not red, juice comes out.

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Ka'i ladrilloPeanut molasses bricks

Ka'i ladrillo — 'monkey brick' in Guaraní — is the sweet sold by vendors on Asunción buses and at country fiestas: roasted peanuts bound in boiled cane molasses and set in brick-shaped blocks, crunchy and dark with a slightly smoky toffee taste. It contains peanuts, so keep it away from anyone with a peanut allergy. The common mistake is taking the syrup off too soon, so the bricks stay sticky and never set. Chef's tip: test the syrup by dropping a little into cold water; it is ready when it sets into a brittle thread that snaps.

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Seco de chabeloPlantain mash with dried beef

Piura's picanterías, near the dry northern border, serve this rough, savoury mash at lunch: green plantains, roasted or boiled and pounded, mixed with fried strips of carne seca (salted dried beef) and a quick sofrito of onion, tomato and ají amarillo. It is dense, salty and smoky, with the plantain's starchy sweetness, and is eaten with salsa criolla and fried ripe plantain or chifles (plantain crisps). The legend says it was invented for a soldier called Chabelo in the War of the Pacific. Use carne seca or cecina from Latin shops, or unseasoned beef jerky. Pounding the plantains smooth is the classic mistake: chabelo should be lumpy and rustic. Chef's tip: soak the dried beef in warm water for 30 minutes and taste a piece; if it's still very salty, change the water and soak again.

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TejasPecan and manjar blanco sweets

Ica's sweet shops, along the road into town and around the main square, stack tejas in long rows, each one wrapped in white tissue paper with frilled ends. Inside the thin, crackly sugar shell is a soft centre of manjar blanco with a pecan or a piece of candied fruit; Ica has been making them since the 19th century and they are the city's best-known souvenir. They are intensely sweet, so one or two with coffee is enough. The hard part is the fondant: stir it while it's too hot and it turns grainy and opaque too early, so let the syrup cool before working it. This version makes a quick manjar blanco from condensed and evaporated milk and uses pecans; candied lime or orange peel works the same way. Chef's tip: chill the filled centres until firm before dipping; warm ones melt into the fondant and lose their shape.

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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.

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RanfañoteToasted bread dessert in spiced syrup

Made from leftovers in colonial Lima by Afro-Peruvian cooks, ranfañote is one of the city's oldest sweets and turns up today at criollo food fairs and at old-style dessert stalls in Barrios Altos. Cubes of day-old bread are toasted crisp, then layered with walnuts, coconut, raisins and little cubes of fresh cheese and drenched in a thick chancaca syrup scented with cinnamon, clove and orange peel. The cheese is not a typo: its saltiness cuts the syrup, and the contrast of crunchy bread, chewy fruit and soft cheese is the point. It is eaten warm or at room temperature on its own. The common error is pouring thin syrup over the bread, which drowns it; the syrup should be thick like honey. Queso fresco is generally made with animal rennet, so choose a vegetarian fresh cheese if you need to. Chef's tip: toast the bread in the oven rather than frying it; it stays crisp longer under the syrup and is less greasy.

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Arroz zambitoRice pudding with chancaca and raisins

Lima's Afro-Peruvian kitchens gave the city arroz zambito, the dark cousin of arroz con leche: rice simmered with cloves and cinnamon, sweetened with chancaca instead of white sugar, and enriched with milk, coconut and raisins. The name refers to its deep brown colour, and it is sold in cups at markets and from carts alongside mazamorra morada, often half and half in the same cup. It tastes of molasses and spice, soft and creamy with chewy raisins and nuggets of coconut. The way it usually goes wrong is adding the chancaca too soon, before the rice is tender; the sugar firms the grains and they never soften. Serve warm or at room temperature, dusted with cinnamon. Chancaca can be swapped for panela or dark muscovado. Chef's tip: melt the chancaca in a little water first and strain it, as the blocks often contain bits of cane fibre.

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Frejol coladoSweet black bean paste

Chincha, south of Lima, is the heart of Afro-Peruvian culture, and its signature sweet is frejol colado: black beans cooked, pushed through a sieve (colado means strained) and then stirred for a long time with sugar and spices until the paste is dark, glossy and thick enough to stand a spoon in. It is traditionally served in little gourd bowls called potos, sprinkled with toasted sesame, and sold in Chincha's square and at festivals in El Carmen. The taste is deep and molasses-like, with clove and cinnamon, and nobody guesses it's beans. The beans need an overnight soak, which isn't counted in the time. Most people give up stirring too early; under-cooked frejol colado is runny and tastes of beans, so keep going until it pulls away from the pan in one mass. Some cooks add milk; this version is dairy free. Chef's tip: use a wide, heavy pan and a long wooden spoon, and wear an oven glove, because the thick paste spits as it reduces.

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Helado de lúcumaLúcuma ice cream

Ask anyone in Lima, Cusco or Trujillo for the national ice-cream flavour and they will say lúcuma, the green-skinned Andean fruit with dry, golden-orange flesh that tastes of butterscotch, maple and sweet potato. Every ice-cream parlour, supermarket freezer and street cart sells it, and it's also folded into cakes and milkshakes. This no-churn version needs no machine: frozen lúcuma pulp (or lúcuma powder, both in Latin shops and health-food stores) is whisked into condensed milk, then folded into whipped cream and frozen. It comes out smooth, rich and naturally caramel-coloured. The mistake is over-whipping the cream to stiff peaks, which makes the ice cream grainy and buttery; stop at soft peaks. It needs at least 6 hours in the freezer, so make it the day before. Serve with a slice of chocolate cake or on its own. Chef's tip: a pinch of salt and a few drops of lime sharpen lúcuma's mellow flavour so it doesn't taste flat when frozen.

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HuatiaEarth-baked potatoes

After the potato harvest in May and June, families in Puno, Cusco and across the highlands build a huatia in the field: a little dome of dry earth clods heated with dried brush until the clods glow, then knocked down over freshly dug potatoes and oca so they bake slowly underground. Opened an hour later, the potatoes are smoky, floury and so soft their skins split, and the oca turns sweet and tangy. Everyone eats them with their hands, with salt, chilli sauce and fresh cheese. This recipe gives an oven method for home cooks: a lidded pot bedded with coarse salt and herbs, which traps heat and steam much like the earth. If you do try a real huatia outdoors, use a clear patch of ground away from anything that can catch fire and keep water nearby. Don't uncover the pot early to check: the steam escapes and the potatoes turn leathery. Fresh oca is sold in some markets as New Zealand yam; small sweet potatoes will do. Chef's tip: choose potatoes of a similar size so they all finish together, and serve with uchucuta.

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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.

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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.

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Leche asadaBaked milk custard

A fixture of Lima's set-lunch menus and school canteens, leche asada is the plainer sibling of flan: milk, eggs, sugar and vanilla baked in a dish until set, with no caramel layer, so the top browns into a freckled skin that's the best part. It is lighter and a little less smooth than crème caramel, faintly scented with cinnamon and lemon zest, and served cold in squares or straight from little ramekins. Many cooks rush it in a hot oven, which makes the custard bubble and weep watery holes; bake it low and in a water bath, and only brown the top at the end. It makes a gentle end to a heavy meal and keeps for three days in the fridge. Chef's tip: strain the custard and skim off the foam before baking for a smooth, even set.

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Queso heladoCinnamon coconut milk ice

Despite the name, there's no cheese in it: queso helado is Arequipa's old-fashioned frozen milk dessert, cut into thick rounds that look like a slice of fresh cheese and dusted with ground cinnamon. Vendors in white aprons sell it around the Plaza de Armas and at the Yanahuara viewpoint, traditionally churned in a metal pail spun over ice and salt, and every Arequipeño has a favourite stall. It is creamy, mildly milky and fragrant with cinnamon, clove and grated coconut, less rich than ice cream and slightly icy in a pleasant way. Many recipes thicken it with egg yolks; this one uses evaporated and condensed milk with a little cornflour so it stays egg free. The common error is freezing it untouched, which gives one hard block of ice: stir it every 45 minutes for the first few hours. Allow at least 4 hours of freezing on top of the cooking time, or make it a day ahead. Chef's tip: freeze it in a loaf tin lined with cling film, then lift it out and slice it into rounds for that true street look.

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TacachoMashed roasted green plantain balls

Tacacho is the breakfast of the Peruvian Amazon, from Tarapoto to Iquitos: green plantains roasted over coals, mashed with fat and salt and shaped into balls. There it comes with cecina (smoked pork) and is mashed with lard and crackling; this vegan tacacho uses good oil and a pinch of smoked paprika for the same savoury, smoky depth. The balls are dense, chewy and starchy, crisp at the edges where the plantain charred, and they are eaten hot with a fiery chilli sauce or alongside stews. Use plantains that are fully green and firm. Chef's tip: mash the plantains while they are still very hot; as green plantain cools its starch sets and it won't bind into a smooth ball.

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Suspiro limeñaCaramel custard with port meringue

Suspiro a la limeña, 'the sigh of a Lima woman', is the city's grand dessert from colonial times, said to have been named by the poet José Gálvez for its sweetness. A thick manjar blanco, milk slowly cooked down to a silky caramel cream and enriched with egg yolks, is topped with a cloud of glossy Italian meringue flavoured with port and dusted with cinnamon. It is very sweet and very rich, so serve it in small glasses. Make it in the morning for the evening. Chef's tip: the manjar is ready when a spoon dragged across the bottom of the pan leaves a clear path for a moment; undercooked, it stays runny and the meringue sinks into it.

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Asado uruguayoGrilled beef short ribs and chorizo

Sunday in Uruguay means asado: in Montevideo backyards and the cattle towns of the interior, beef ribs (asado de tira), chorizo and morcilla cook slowly over the embers of a wood fire, with only coarse salt, while the family waits. The parrillero rakes coals under the grill and keeps the heat low and even. This recipe includes pork chorizo. The mistake is cooking over flames; the fire should burn down to embers you can hold your hand above for 6–8 seconds. Chef's tip: salt the meat only when it goes on the grill, with coarse salt, never fine.

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