Skip to content
Recipes

All recipes

Vegetarian, or something you can't eat? Set your diet once and we'll hide recipes that don't fit.

Nan-e badamiAlmond cardamom cookies

Tabriz and Yazd both claim the best nan-e badami, and in the weeks before Nowruz pastry shops across Iran fill trays with these small almond cookies for the new-year table. Made from ground almonds, sugar and egg white with no flour at all, they have a thin crisp shell and a moist, chewy middle, perfumed with cardamom and rose water and topped with a sliver of pistachio. Offer them with tea when guests make their Nowruz visits; they also keep well enough to make a week ahead. Over-whisking is the easy error: the whites only need to be frothy, not stiff, or the cookies puff and crack like meringues. Chef's tip: let the shaped cookies sit uncovered for 20 minutes before baking so a skin forms; that skin is what gives the neat, crackled top.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Kak-e KermanshahiThin buttered sugar sheets

Kermanshah, in Iran's Kurdish west, is famous for its ghee, and kak is the sweet that shows it off: dough rolled so thin you can read through it, baked crisp in seconds, then brushed with melted ghee and showered with sugar before the sheets are folded and stacked. Shops in the city's bazaar sell them in tall boxes, and families bring them out for guests and at Nowruz with glasses of black tea. They are traditionally made with Kermanshahi ghee, a nutty sheep's-milk ghee; ordinary ghee or clarified butter works well. The classic mistake is rolling too thickly: anything over a millimetre bakes up like a cracker, not a crisp, glassy sheet. Chef's tip: roll on a lightly oiled counter rather than flour, and stretch the last bit over the backs of your hands, as the Kermanshah bakers do; excess flour scorches on the hot tray.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

TopfengolatschenSweet quark puff pastry squares

A Topfengolatsche is what Viennese office workers grab from the bakery on the way in, and what grandparents order with a Melange in a coffee house on a Sunday afternoon. The corners of a puff pastry square are folded over a lemony, vanilla-scented filling of Topfen (Austrian quark) with plump raisins, and the top gets a thin white glaze. It is flaky, light and not too sweet. Raisins are sometimes soaked in rum; warm water or orange juice works just as well, and the recipe below is alcohol-free. Wet quark is the classic problem, because it turns the filling runny and it leaks out in the oven. Chef's tip: hang the quark in a sieve lined with a clean cloth for an hour, or squeeze it, until it is as thick as soft cream cheese.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Nan-e keshmeshiSaffron raisin cookies

Ask an Iranian child which Nowruz sweet they reach for first and many will say nan-e keshmeshi, the little raisin cookies with crisp golden rims and soft, chewy centres. Confectioners in Tehran make them by the thousand in the run-up to the spring new year, and they turn up again whenever there is tea and company. The dough is a simple butter-sugar-egg batter warmed with saffron and vanilla, spooned out in small dabs that spread thin in the oven. Spooning them too big or too close is the common slip: they run into each other and bake into one sheet. Chef's tip: soak the raisins in hot water for 10 minutes and dry them well first; plump raisins stay juicy instead of burning on the surface.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Kärntner ReindlingCinnamon raisin yeast cake

Carinthia's Easter loaf takes its name from the Reindl, the round, deep pan it is baked in, and in southern Austria no Easter basket goes to church without one. Inside the golden yeast crust is a spiral of butter, cinnamon sugar and plump raisins, so every slice shows a dark swirl. Locals eat it two ways: sweet with coffee on Easter morning, or alongside the savoury Easter platter with horseradish. Many bakers soak the raisins in rum overnight; warm water or tea works just as well and keeps it alcohol-free. A dry, crumbly Reindling usually means too much flour went in during kneading, so keep the dough soft and only lightly floured. Chef's tip: butter the pan well and dust it with sugar, which caramelises into a thin crunchy shell.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Nan-e khameiCream puffs

Tehran's pastry shops, the qanadi on every busy street, sell nan-e khamei by the boxful: small golden choux puffs split and filled with softly whipped cream, dusted with icing sugar. Families buy a box to take when visiting relatives, for birthdays and above all for the Nowruz new-year table, and they are eaten with glasses of black tea. The shells are crisp and hollow, the cream barely sweet and sometimes lifted with a drop of rose water, and a few chopped pistachios on top add colour. Filling them too early is the usual mistake, as the cream softens the shells within hours, so fill them shortly before serving. Chef's tip: whip the cream in a chilled bowl and stop at soft peaks with a little hold; it pipes smoothly and doesn't turn grainy.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Pon ye gyiFermented bean sauce

Bagan, among its thousands of temples, is just as known in Myanmar for pon ye gyi, the thick, glossy black bean paste sold in clay pots at Nyaung-U market. Workshops there boil beans, ferment them under cloth, steep them in brine and boil the dark liquid down for hours. At home it is a seasoning rather than a dip: fried with garlic, onion and chilli as pon ye gyi kyaw, it becomes the savoury base for pork or chicken curries and for stir-fried greens, and is eaten with rice and raw vegetables through the hot dry season. The taste is deeply salty, savoury and slightly sweet-bitter, with a soft funk like miso and black bean sauce combined, and a texture like thick molasses. Common mistake: stopping the reduction too soon; a thin brown sauce will not keep and lacks depth, so cook it until it is black, glossy and falls from the spoon in ribbons. Bagan makers use different beans; this home method uses soybeans with a Bacillus-style ferment like thua nao. It is ready when a spoonful sets into a thick gloss on a cold plate. Chef's tip: stir more often near the end, when it can catch.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Homemade kashkFermented yogurt whey

Kashk began with Iran's nomadic herders, who churned their yoghurt for butter in goatskin bags, then cooked and dried the sour leftover into hard balls that lasted through winter. In Kerman, Fars and Khorasan it is still made that way, but in Tehran most people buy it liquid in jars. Making your own is worth one slow afternoon. It is the salty, sour, almost cheesy finish swirled over ash reshteh at Nowruz, folded into kashk-e bademjan with fried mint and walnuts, and stirred into kaleh joosh on cold nights. Liquid kashk is thick and creamy like soured cream but sharper and saltier; dried kashk is chalky-hard and grates like aged cheese. Common mistake: heating the churned yoghurt fast; it scorches and the curd turns rubbery. Keep the heat low and stir. The curd is ready when it separates into soft white clumps in a clear, yellow-green whey. Kashk is always cooked again before eating — even the jarred kind — so heat it when you use it. Chef's tip: a goat or sheep's milk yoghurt, or half and half with cow's, gives the most authentic, funky flavour.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

KolompehDate and walnut pastries

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Koloocheh FumanWalnut-filled cookies

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Moraba-ye bahar narenjBitter orange blossom jam

When the bitter orange trees lining Shiraz's streets bloom in April, the whole city smells of blossom, and households gather the fallen petals to make this pale golden jam for the year ahead. It is spooned onto bread with fresh cheese at breakfast, or stirred into tea. The petals are bitter, so they are blanched and soaked several times before they meet the syrup. A common mistake is cutting the soaking short, which leaves the jam harsh. Chef's tip: add the lemon juice only at the end; it keeps the petals bright and stops the syrup from crystallising.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Moraba-ye haveejCarrot jam with cardamom and almonds

Moraba-ye havij is the bright orange jam on Iranian breakfast tables, spread on warm barbari or sangak with butter or a slice of white cheese, especially in winter when carrots are at their sweetest. Thin shreds of carrot are candied in a light syrup with cardamom and orange peel, then finished with rosewater and slivered almonds, so every spoonful is chewy, glossy and fragrant. It is made in every region, and families argue over how thick the syrup should be. Chef's tip: cut the carrots into fine matchsticks rather than grating them; grated carrot turns to mush and clouds the syrup.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

NabatSaffron rock sugar crystals

Golden saffron nabat on a stick is the souvenir pilgrims bring back from Mashhad, and across Iran a stick of it is stirred into hot tea for an upset stomach, after a fright or simply instead of a sugar cube. The crystals grow slowly on cotton strings in a saturated syrup over two or three days, and making it at home is a pleasant, slow kitchen project. A common mistake is moving or knocking the jar: every jolt sets off fine sugar grit instead of big crystals. Chef's tip: roll the wet strings in a little sugar and let them dry before hanging them; the seed crystals give the new ones something to grow on.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Nan-e berenjiRice-flour cookies

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Nan-e gerdooyiWalnut cookies

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Nan-e nokhodchiChickpea flour cookies

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Nan-e YazdiCardamom and rosewater cupcakes

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Shirini-ye zabanCaramelised puff pastry tongues

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Viennese GugelhupfLemon and raisin ring cake

In Vienna the Gugelhupf is the Sunday cake of home bakers, set out on the table for afternoon Jause with coffee, and every family has its own fluted copper or ceramic mould. Unlike the yeasted ring cakes of Alsace and southern Germany, the everyday Viennese one is a Rührgugelhupf, a buttery sponge lifted with whisked egg whites, scented with lemon and studded with plump raisins. It is tender, light and keeps moist for several days under a cake dome. A common mistake is a badly greased mould; every ridge needs butter and flour or the cake tears as it comes out. Chef's tip: soak the raisins in hot water for 15 minutes, dry them and toss them in a spoon of flour so they don't sink.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Showing 24 of 38 recipes

Show more recipes

Page 1 of 2