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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.

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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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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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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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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Kitchener bunsJam and cream doughnut buns

Kitchener buns are a South Australian bakery icon, found in every Adelaide suburb and country town bakery from the Barossa to the Fleurieu. The soft yeast buns are fried or baked, rolled in sugar, split open and filled with a stripe of raspberry jam and a generous swirl of cream; they were named after a British field marshal during the First World War. Messy and delicious with a cup of tea. A common mistake is filling them warm, which melts the cream. Chef's tip: roll them in sugar while still warm so it sticks, then fill when cold.

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Melting momentsLemon buttercream sandwich biscuits

Melting moments are the soft, crumbly biscuits found in Australian and New Zealand bakery jars and grandmother's tins, two rounds made with custard powder and icing sugar sandwiched with a lemon butter icing. The custard powder gives them their yellow colour and tender, short texture that melts in the mouth, hence the name. A common mistake is overbaking; they should be pale, not golden. Chef's tip: press each ball with a floured fork for the classic stripes.

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Passionfruit sponge

The passionfruit sponge is the star of the Australian country show cake table and every Sunday afternoon tea, made from the vines that cover back fences from Sydney to the Sunshine Coast. Two airy, fatless sponges are filled with whipped cream and topped with a tangy passionfruit icing. A common mistake is knocking the air out when folding in the flour; use a light hand and a big metal spoon. Chef's tip: beat the eggs and sugar for a full 8–10 minutes until thick enough to hold a trail.

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Pumpkin scones

Pumpkin scones are a Queensland country tradition, made famous by the farm-raised wife of a long-serving state premier and baked for every Country Women's Association morning tea from Toowoomba to Rockhampton. Mashed pumpkin makes them golden, soft and slightly sweet, and they are best warm from the oven with plenty of butter. A common mistake is wet pumpkin; steam or roast it and let it cool so the dough isn't sticky. Chef's tip: cut straight down without twisting the cutter, so the scones rise tall and even.

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Magic coffee

The magic is a Melbourne café insider's order, born in the city's Fitzroy and Collingwood coffee bars: a double ristretto (the short, intense first part of the espresso shot) topped with silky steamed milk in a 160 ml cup. It is stronger and sweeter-tasting than a flat white because there's less milk and only the richest part of the shot. A common mistake is scalding the milk; above about 65 °C it loses its natural sweetness. Chef's tip: stop the shot early, at about 30 ml for a double, to get that syrupy ristretto.

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Vanilla slice

The vanilla slice, or snot block as Aussie kids call it, is the country bakery's pride; towns like Ouyen in north-west Victoria even hold a yearly competition for the best one. A thick, wobbly vanilla custard is set between two sheets of crisp puff pastry and topped with white or passionfruit icing. It needs a few hours to set but is easy. A common mistake is a soft custard that oozes when cut; it must boil for a full minute to thicken properly. Chef's tip: prick and weigh the pastry down with a tray while baking so it stays flat and thin.

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Finger bunsIced coconut finger buns

Finger buns are the classic Australian school canteen and tuckshop bun, sold in every suburban bakery and supermarket from Perth to Brisbane: soft, slightly sweet long rolls, sometimes with sultanas, topped with bright pink icing and a scatter of desiccated coconut. Kids eat them split and buttered. A common mistake is icing them warm, which makes it run off; let them cool completely. Chef's tip: brush them with a sugar glaze straight from the oven for a soft, shiny crust under the icing.

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Locro de zapallo for toddlersPumpkin stew for toddlers

Locro de zapallo is the golden pumpkin stew of Lima's home kitchens and menú lunch spots, eaten on weekdays with white rice and, for adults, a fried egg and ají on the side. For toddlers from 12 months it is cooked without any ají, the pumpkin is simmered until it melts into a sauce, and just a little crumbled fresh cheese is stirred in, so it is sweet, creamy and easy to mash. It contains milk; there is no gluten, egg, nuts or soya. Queso fresco is often made with animal rennet, so for a vegetarian bowl choose one labelled vegetarian, or use a little paneer, and always a pasteurised cheese. Chef's tip: cut half the pumpkin small so it dissolves into the sauce and the rest larger so it keeps some shape.

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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.

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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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Camu camuCamu camu berry juice

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.

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Adobo arequipeñoMarinated slow-cooked pork

On Sunday mornings in Arequipa, families head to picanterías in Cayma and Yanahuara for a steaming bowl of adobo, chunks of pork that have marinated overnight in chicha de jora (fermented maize beer), ají panca, garlic and cumin, then cooked slowly in a clay pot with thick wedges of red onion. The sauce is dark red, tangy and garlicky rather than hot, and you mop it up with pan de tres puntas, the city's triangular bread; a mug of anise tea follows. Chicha de jora contains alcohol; for an alcohol-free adobo, use the vinegar and water swap in the ingredient list, which gives the same sour edge. Boiling it hard is the classic error, as it toughens the pork; it should barely tremble under the lid. Chef's tip: marinate the pork the evening before, always in the fridge, and cook it the next morning in its marinade.

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AguajinaAguaje palm fruit drink

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.

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CarapulcraDried potato and pork stew

Older than Peru itself, carapulcra comes from the Afro-Peruvian kitchens of Chincha, south of Lima, where it is cooked in big pots for saints' days and family lunches and served next to a mound of sopa seca, a pairing locals call the 'matrimonio'. Pieces of papa seca, potato that has been boiled, sun-dried and broken into nuggets, are toasted and simmered with pork shoulder in a brick-red sauce of ají panca, garlic, cumin and ground peanuts, until the potato swells into chewy, savoury lumps and the sauce turns thick and nutty. Most people skip toasting the papa seca, and the stew tastes flat; the dry pan is where the flavour comes from. Chef's tip: stir often in the last half hour and add hot stock a ladle at a time; papa seca drinks liquid and catches on the base without warning.

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Cau cauTripe and potato stew

Cheap, filling and deeply loved, cau cau is a lunchtime staple at Lima's menú restaurants and market comedores, served with white rice. Pieces of honeycomb tripe are simmered until soft, then stewed with diced potato in a golden sauce of ají amarillo, garlic and turmeric, finished with a fistful of mint (hierbabuena) that freshens the richness. The texture is soft and slightly springy, the sauce mild, warm and herby. Buy tripe from a butcher or Latin, Asian or halal shop already cleaned and blanched (white honeycomb); it must be simmered until fully tender and cooked through. The common mistake is undercooking the tripe: if it squeaks between your teeth it needs longer. Chef's tip: cut the potatoes small and let some of them break up at the end; they thicken the sauce naturally.

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ChapoPlantain and milk drink

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.

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