All recipes

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Oliang (Thai black iced coffee)

Old Bangkok coffee shops in Chinatown and Bang Rak still brew oliang through a long cotton sock, using a dark blend of coffee roasted with corn, soybeans, rice and sesame that gives it a toasty, almost cocoa-like flavour. It is served black, heavily sweetened and poured over crushed ice in tall glasses, a mid-morning pick-me-up for market traders. Look for any Thai 'oliang powder' blend in Asian shops, or mix dark coffee with roasted grains as below. It contains caffeine, so it is not one for children. Chef's tip: adding sugar after chilling is the mistake; dissolve it while the coffee is hot, or it stays gritty.

15 min

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Thai green curry paste

Green curry is a central-plains dish, cooked in Bangkok shophouse kitchens and eaten over rice or khanom jeen noodles at lunch. Its paste uses fresh green chillies rather than dried red ones, so it tastes grassy, hot and citrusy, with cumin and white pepper underneath. Thai cooks would add kapi (shrimp paste) at the end; here yellow soybean paste gives the savoury depth so the paste is vegan, and 1 tsp roasted shrimp paste can go back in for the traditional version. Chef's tip: don't add water to get the blender going; a watery paste won't fry in coconut cream and the curry tastes flat. Use a spoonful of oil and patience instead.

38 min

Thai Basics

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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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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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Thai red curry paste

Market stalls in Bangkok's Or Tor Kor and Khlong Toei sell red curry paste by the scoop from brick-red mounds, but a home batch pounded in a granite mortar smells far brighter. This is the base for gaeng phet, choo chee and red duck curry, and a spoonful also lifts fried rice and stir-fried long beans. The paste is coarse, deep red and fiercely aromatic, with lemongrass and galangal up front. Traditionally a teaspoon of kapi (fermented shrimp paste) goes in at the end; this version uses yellow soybean paste instead so it stays vegan. Add 1 tsp roasted shrimp paste in step 8 if you want the classic. Chef's tip: soak the chillies until fully soft and squeeze them dry before pounding; hard, wet chillies are the usual reason a paste stays gritty and watery.

40 min

Thai Basics

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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 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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SikhyeSweet rice punch

Every Korean jjimjilbang (bathhouse) sells sikhye in little cans, and every grandmother makes a big pot of it before Seollal and Chuseok to sip after the heavy holiday meal, because it is believed to help digestion. Barley malt water and cooked rice are kept warm for several hours until enzymes turn the rice starch into sugar and the grains float up to the top, then the drink is boiled with ginger and chilled until icy. It is mild, lightly sweet and nutty, with soft rice grains to slurp. The usual mistake is letting it get too hot while it ferments: above about 65 °C the enzymes stop working and the grains never float. Contains barley (gluten). Chef's tip: use the rice cooker's 'keep warm' setting; it holds the perfect temperature on its own.

320 min

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GaraetteokLong cylinder rice cakes

Garaetteok are the long white rice-cake logs that Korean mills churn out before Seollal, when families queue with their own rice to have them pressed and then slice them into ovals for tteokguk, the New Year soup. The length is meant to wish for a long life. Freshly made, they are soft and chewy and eaten warm, dipped in honey or toasted over a grill; once they firm up they are sliced for soup or cut into sticks for tteokbokki. Making them at home is simple, though the logs come out a little less glossy than machine-pressed ones. The usual mistake is rolling the dough when it has cooled: it must be hot to stay smooth. Rice cakes are chewy and sticky, a known choking risk: cut them into small pieces for young children and older people and eat them sitting down. Chef's tip: leave the logs to firm overnight before slicing on the diagonal; they cut cleanly instead of squashing.

45 min

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SujeonggwaCinnamon persimmon punch

After a big Seollal feast in Seoul, sujeonggwa comes out ice-cold in small bowls, dark red-brown and fragrant with cinnamon and ginger, with a soft dried persimmon and a few pine nuts floating in each one. It is the punch of the New Year season, made a day or two ahead and kept on a cold balcony. The cinnamon and ginger are boiled separately and then combined, which keeps each flavour clean. The common mistake is boiling the cinnamon too long or too hard: it turns bitter and cloudy, so keep it to a gentle simmer. Contains pine nuts. Chef's tip: soak the dried persimmons in the cooled punch only a few hours before serving, so they soften without falling apart.

60 min

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HoppangRed bean steamed buns

When the first cold snap hits, Korean convenience stores bring out glass steamer cabinets full of hoppang, and office workers grab one for breakfast on the way to the subway. The bun is soft, slightly sweet yeasted dough wrapped around a thick, smooth red bean paste, steamed until pillowy and eaten piping hot. Making them at home takes a morning but they freeze perfectly. The usual mistake is opening the lid too early or steaming over too fierce a heat: the buns collapse and wrinkle, so keep a steady medium heat and leave them to rest 5 minutes before lifting the lid. Contains wheat. Chef's tip: let the shaped buns rise on squares of baking paper; you can move them into the steamer without squashing them.

120 min

Korean Baking

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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.

80 min

Paraguayan Baking

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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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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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Ssanghwa-cha (herbal tonic tea)

Ssanghwa-cha is the strongest thing on the menu of an old Korean dabang. From the 1960s these smoky tea rooms served it in thick ceramic cups, dark as coffee, with pine nuts, slivered jujube and walnut floating on top; in winter some still slide a raw egg yolk in, which this recipe leaves out. The brew comes from Korean herbal tradition, where ssanghwa-tang is drunk to warm up and recover from tiredness after hard work or a cold. It tastes earthy and bitter at first, then sweet from licorice and jujube, with warmth from cinnamon and ginger and a celery-like perfume from angelica. Herbal shops sell the roots in pre-measured packs. The common mistake is boiling it hard: the liquid reduces too fast and turns harsh. Keep a gentle simmer with the lid ajar for two hours. It is ready when it is very dark brown, reduced to about a third and smells of cinnamon and roots. Because it contains licorice and angelica, skip it if you are pregnant or breastfeeding, have high blood pressure, or take blood thinners or other medicines unless your doctor agrees. Chef's tip: a second, lighter brew from the same roots is good with honey.

135 min

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Yuja-cha (citron tea)

Goheung, on the southern coast of South Jeolla, is Korea's yuja country: in November the groves turn gold and families slice the knobbly citrons for yuja-cheong, the honeyed preserve that becomes tea all winter. From December to March a spoonful in hot water is offered to guests, to students cramming late and to anyone with a scratchy throat, as it is traditionally drunk for colds. The tea is sweet, floral and sharp, with soft, chewy strands of peel that you eat at the end with a spoon. The common mistake is leaving the fruit damp or the pith too thick: wet fruit lets mould in, and thick white pith makes the preserve bitter. Scrub, dry completely and pare away any pith thicker than a few millimetres. The cheong is ready after a day or two, when the sugar has dissolved into a clear, glossy syrup around the peel. Keep it in the fridge for up to three months, always with a dry spoon; throw it away if you see fuzzy mould, smell alcohol or it bubbles. No yuja? Japanese yuzu is the same fruit; otherwise use 2 lemons and 2 mandarins. Chef's tip: soak the seeds in a little of the honey and add that liquid back for a silkier syrup.

45 min

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Sungnyung (scorched rice tea)

Before electric rice cookers, every Korean pot of rice left a golden crust, nurungji, stuck to the bottom. Rather than waste it, cooks poured in water and simmered it while the family ate, and the warm, cloudy sungnyung was drunk at the end of the meal in place of tea. Older Koreans still describe it as the taste of home, and many Seoul restaurants that cook rice in stone pots finish by pouring water over the crust at the table. It tastes of toasted grain and has a faint natural sweetness, with soft pieces of crust to spoon up at the bottom. Without a stone pot you can make the crust from leftover rice in a frying pan. The common mistake is rushing the crust over high heat: it blackens on the outside and turns the drink bitter while the middle stays soft. Keep the heat low and patient, and aim for even golden-brown. The crust is ready when it lifts away from the pan in one sheet and smells like popcorn; the sungnyung is ready when the water is milky and pale gold. Chef's tip: make extra crust, dry it completely and keep it in a jar, so you can make sungnyung in ten minutes any evening.

35 min

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Daechu-cha (jujube tea)

Boeun county in North Chungcheong is famous for its large, sweet jujubes, harvested each October and sold at a lively autumn festival. Once dried, they become daechu-cha, the deep amber tea Korean traditional teahouses in Insadong and Jeonju serve from late autumn to early spring, topped with pine nuts. Long, slow simmering with ginger and a stick of cinnamon draws out a flavour like dates, caramel and baked apple; pressing the softened flesh through a sieve gives the tea its velvety, almost soup-thick body. It is traditionally drunk to warm up on cold nights. The common mistake is simply boiling whole jujubes and straining: the skins stay sealed, the tea comes out thin and pale, and most of the sweetness is thrown away. Slit each jujube, simmer until the flesh slides off the stone, then mash the pulp through the sieve. It is ready when the liquid has reduced by about half, is dark amber and lightly coats a spoon. Keep it covered in the fridge for up to 5 days and reheat gently. Chef's tip: a few slices of fresh ginger added in the last 20 minutes give a brighter heat than ginger boiled for the whole time.

110 min

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Maesil-cha (green plum tea)

In early June the hillsides of Gwangyang are picked clean of hard green maesil, and Korean kitchens across the country fill with jars of plums buried in sugar. Over about a hundred days the sugar draws out the fruit's juice and becomes maesil-cheong, a golden syrup that is both a cooking ingredient and a drink. Iced, it is the summer cooler; hot, it is traditionally drunk after a heavy meal for digestion. It tastes bright and tart, like green apple and apricot, rounded by the sugar. The common mistake is putting damp plums or plums with stalks into the jar: water and stalk ends invite mould and unwanted fermentation. Pick out each stalk with a toothpick and dry the fruit completely. The syrup is ready when the plums have shrivelled and float in clear amber liquid. A little foaming early on is normal, but if it smells strongly of alcohol, grows fuzzy mould or turns slimy, discard it. Remove the plums at 100 days, because their stones contain natural compounds best kept out of a long-stored syrup. Chef's tip: use half white and half light brown sugar for a rounder, toffee-edged syrup.

40 min

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Misutgaru (multigrain powder drink)

Misutgaru began as travellers' food, a powder of roasted grains that kept for weeks and could be stirred into water on the road. Today it is the drink of Korean summer: mothers shake it with cold milk for breakfast before school, office workers buy it as misutgaru latte from cafés, and farmers drink it at midday in the fields of July. The powder is a mix of roasted barley, glutinous and brown rice, black and yellow soybeans, and sesame, and it tastes of toasted cereal and peanut, lightly sweet, with a thick, creamy body that fills you up like a light meal. The common mistake is tipping the powder into a full glass of milk and stirring: it floats, clumps into dry balls and never fully mixes. Shake it in a jar with a little liquid first, or blend it, then add the rest. It is ready when the drink is smooth, beige and frothy with no dry flecks, and slightly thickened after a minute's rest. Use water or soy milk for a dairy-free version, and note that the barley means it is not gluten free. Chef's tip: a pinch of salt makes the grain flavour taste rounder and less flat.

5 min

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Homemade doenjangFermented soybean paste

Doenjang starts in late autumn, after the soybean harvest, when Korean households used to boil beans in a cauldron, pound them into bricks and hang the meju from the rafters on straw ropes to grow a white, sweet-smelling bloom over the winter. In early spring, on a clear dry day, the bricks are dropped into salt brine in an onggi jar with dried chillies, jujubes and a red-hot piece of charcoal. Some six to eight weeks later the dark liquid is drawn off and boiled into soup soy sauce (guk-ganjang), and the softened bricks are mashed into doenjang, which ripens through the summer. It is chunkier, saltier and funkier than miso, with a nutty, almost smoky depth: the backbone of doenjang-jjigae, ssamjang and spinach namul. Common mistake: making the brick too thick or drying it in a warm, still room, so the centre rots before it dries; keep it about 6 cm thick and hang it where air moves. The paste is ready when it is mid-brown, smells of toasted nuts and soy, and tastes salty-sweet rather than sharp. Chef's tip: you can buy dried meju blocks from Korean grocers and start at the brining step.

300 min

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Homemade gochujangChilli bean paste

Sunchang, a small county in North Jeolla, is so tied to gochujang that it holds a jang festival every October, but the paste itself is traditionally made in the cold weeks of late winter, when there are no flies and it can ferment slowly in glazed onggi jars on the sunny jangdokdae terrace. Glutinous rice flour is broken down by barley malt into a sweet, runny porridge, boiled down, then beaten with fine chilli powder, fermented soybean (meju) powder, rice syrup and salt. Young, it is bright, sweet and fiery; after two or three months it darkens to brick red and gains a round, savoury depth, thick enough to hold a ridge on the spoon. It goes into bibimbap, tteokbokki, ssamjang, stews and marinades all year. Common mistake: adding the chilli and salt while the porridge is still hot, which dulls the colour and can make the paste turn sour; wait until it is lukewarm. It is ready when it is glossy, deep red, and smells sweet and earthy with no sharp, boozy note. Chef's tip: hold the malt and rice at 55–60 °C on a rice cooker's keep-warm setting; any hotter and the malt enzymes stop working, so the porridge never thins.

210 min

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MaesilcheongGreen plum syrup

In early June, Gwangyang in South Jeolla holds its plum festival under hillsides of maesil trees, and across Korea families buy crates of hard green maesil plums to make maesilcheong. The plums are layered with an equal weight of sugar in big glass jars, and over 100 days the sugar draws out their juice into a tart, fruity amber syrup. It is the Korean kitchen's all-purpose sweetener: a spoonful in a marinade for bulgogi, in salad dressings and in kimchi, and diluted with cold water as a summer drink traditionally taken after a heavy meal. It tastes sweet, sour and almond-scented. Expect a little natural fermentation: a few bubbles and a trace of alcohol (well under 1%) are normal while the sugar dissolves, so keep the lid loose. The common mistake is wet fruit: any water left on the plums or stem scars can lead to mould, so dry them for hours. Ready when the plums have shrivelled and float, and the syrup is clear amber. Raw green plum stones contain compounds that release cyanide: never crush, bite or eat the stones, and remove the fruit after 100 days. No maesil? Use hard green apricots, with the same care. Chef's tip: use half brown sugar for a deeper colour and caramel note.

30 min