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ThenthukHand-pulled noodle soup

In the Tibetan restaurants around Boudha stupa in Kathmandu, thenthuk is what people order on cold evenings and winter mornings: pieces of dough are pulled flat and pinched straight into a light broth with mutton or buffalo, tomato, radish and spinach. The noodles are thick, soft and slightly uneven, and the soup is gentle and warming, with a little soy and spring onion. This home version uses mutton or lamb. Contains wheat and soya. Chef's tip: pull the dough so thin you can almost see your fingers through it; thick pieces stay doughy in the middle.

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GundrukFermented leafy greens

After the rice harvest in October and November, hill families from Ilam to Gorkha cut the leaves of mustard greens, radish and cauliflower, leave them to wilt in the yard, then pound them into clay pots or pits to ferment. A week later the greens come out olive-brown and sour, and they are dried on bamboo mats in the bright Dashain-Tihar sun. That dried gundruk carries families through the lean winter: soaked and simmered into gundruk ko jhol with tomato and soybeans beside dal-bhat, or tossed into gundruk sadeko with onion, chilli and mustard oil to eat with chiura. The flavour is deeply sour, earthy and a little smoky, the dried leaves chewy-crisp, softening when cooked. Common mistake: packing the leaves loosely; air left in the jar lets mould grow instead of the sour lactic ferment, so press until juice rises over the greens. It is ready to dry when it smells sharply sour like good sauerkraut and the leaves have lost all their green. Chef's tip: if your greens are from a supermarket, mix mustard greens with radish tops or kale for the closest flavour, and ferment in a big jar with a weight.

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Pira caldoCreamy fish soup with cheese

Along the Paraguay River from Asunción to Concepción, pira caldo is the fishermen's soup, said to restore strength after a long night: chunks of firm river fish poached in a broth of onion, peppers and tomato fried in fat, then made creamy with milk and melted fresh cheese. Surubí or other catfish is traditional; any firm white fish such as hake or pollock works. The mistake most people make is boiling the soup after the milk and cheese go in, which splits it. Chef's tip: fry the vegetables until they are very soft and sweet before adding the water; that is where the flavour comes from.

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Jwano ko jholCarom seed broth

Jwano ko jhol is the soup Nepali families make for a mother in the weeks after a birth, and for anyone in the house who has a cold during the Kathmandu winter. Carom seeds are fried in ghee with a spoon of flour until nutty, then whisked with water, garlic and ginger into a thin, peppery, slightly thyme-like broth that is sipped hot from a bowl or poured over rice. The usual mistake is burning the jwano: it turns bitter in seconds, so take it off the heat as soon as it darkens a shade. Chef's tip: whisk the water in a little at a time, as with gravy, so the flour never forms lumps.

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ShyakpaHand-torn dough and yak stew

In the stone lodges of Namche Bazaar and the villages of Solukhumbu, shyakpa is what a Sherpa family cooks on the hearth when the wind comes down off the glaciers: a thick, peppery stew of yak meat, potato and white radish, with pieces of fresh dough pinched straight off a ball and dropped into the pot to cook like chunky noodles. It is eaten from big bowls at the end of a long day's trekking, often with a spoonful of fiery tomato and chilli achar. Yak is rare outside the Himalaya, so beef or lamb is the usual swap, and a vegetables-only shyakpa with extra potato, radish and greens is just as common. Many cooks drop all the dough in at once, which clumps it into a stodgy mass; add it in batches and stir. Chef's tip: let the dough rest for 15 minutes so it stretches thin without tearing.

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Sinki ko jholFermented radish soup

Sinki is the radish answer to gundruk: in late autumn, families in Ilam, Dhankuta and Terhathum pack chunks of radish root into pits lined with straw or into airtight jars, let them ferment for a few weeks, then cut and sun-dry the pieces into chewy, pungent strips that last all year. In winter and through the monsoon, a handful turns a pot of water, tomato, garlic and chilli into a thin, tangy, warming soup that is poured over rice or drunk from a bowl alongside dal bhat. It is light, sharp and savoury, and many people in the hills swear by it for a cold or a heavy stomach. It goes wrong if the sinki is not rinsed and soaked, so the soup tastes musty and gritty. Chef's tip: soak the strips in warm water for 10 minutes, squeeze them dry and fry them briefly in the oil before the water goes in, which mellows the funk and brings out a pleasant smokiness.

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Sisnu ko jholStinging nettle soup

Sisnu grows wild along every terrace wall and trail in the middle hills, and before vegetables were easy to buy it was the green that kept villages going through the dry season; Rai and Magar families still pick the tender tips with tongs or with a cloth wrapped round the hand. Cooked, the sting disappears completely, leaving a deep green, silky soup that tastes somewhere between spinach and seaweed, thickened with a spoonful of cornmeal and seasoned with garlic, chilli, jimbu and timur. It is poured over rice or eaten with dhido, and many Kathmandu restaurants now serve it as a proud reminder of hill cooking. Never handle the raw leaves bare-handed; the sting lasts for hours. Chef's tip: wear rubber gloves until the nettles have been in boiling water for a minute, and pick only the top four to six leaves of each shoot.

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Vegetarian vori voriCornmeal dumpling and vegetable soup

Vori vori is the soup Paraguayan grandmothers make on cold June and July evenings: a golden broth full of bori, small balls of cornmeal and cheese that swell soft as they simmer. The name is a Guaraní take on the Spanish 'bolita' (little ball). It's usually made with hen; this version gets its colour and body from pumpkin, carrot and a sofrito with saffron or turmeric. Chef's tip: shape the balls no bigger than a hazelnut; they double in size and larger ones stay raw inside.

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Gundruk ko jholSour fermented greens soup

In the terraced hill villages between Pokhara and Ilam, families pack mustard, radish and cauliflower leaves into clay pots after the autumn harvest, let them ferment for a week or two and then sun-dry them into gundruk. That dark, tangy leaf is the store cupboard of the winter months, and its most common use is this thin, sour soup (jhol), served on the side of dal bhat or with dhido, the stiff buckwheat or millet porridge of the hills. It tastes a little like a smoky, vinegary green tea and is light, warming and very cheap. A handful of roasted soybeans (bhatmas) is often thrown in for crunch. The mistake is to cook gundruk without soaking it first, which leaves it gritty and too sour. Chef's tip: squeeze the soaked leaves hard and fry them in the oil until they crackle before you add water; that frying gives the soup its toasty depth.

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KwatiMixed sprouted bean soup

Kwati is a thick, warming soup of nine kinds of sprouted beans that the Newar families of the Kathmandu Valley cook on Janai Purnima, the August full moon also called Kwati Punhi, when the monsoon is at its height and people are said to need strength against the damp. The mix usually includes black gram, green mung, chickpeas, soybeans, field peas, kidney beans, cowpeas, field beans and rice beans, soaked and sprouted for two or three days beforehand, then cooked with ajwain, ginger, garlic, tomato and a pinch of timur. Markets in Asan sell ready-mixed kwati beans in the week before the festival. It is eaten in bowls with beaten rice or simply on its own. The mistake people make is skipping the sprouting, which leaves the soup heavy and the beans hard. Chef's tip: fry the ajwain until it crackles; its thyme-like warmth makes the beans easier to digest and is the flavour of the festival.

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So'o yosopyGround beef and rice soup

So'o yosopy, "pounded meat" in Guaraní, is a soup Paraguayans make for anyone who is tired or recovering, and on cold days in Asunción's winter: beef is ground very finely and stirred into cold water so it breaks into soft, delicate threads, then simmered with onion, tomato, pepper and a little rice and oregano. The texture is smooth and the broth light. The mistake is adding the beef to boiling water, which makes it clump into meatballs; mix it into cold water first and stir as it heats. Chef's tip: ask the butcher to mince lean beef twice, or pulse it very fine in a food processor.

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