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.

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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.

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

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Ye-fyel watGoat in berbere stew

Goat is the everyday meat across Ethiopia's eastern lowlands, where herds do better than cattle in the dry heat, and a pot of ye-fyel wat marks holidays, Eid and the arrival of guests. The meat is cut small on the bone and cooked slowly in a dark, glossy sauce built on a mountain of onions and plenty of berbere, so it is spicy, deeply savoury and slightly sweet, with the faint gaminess of goat coming through. It is eaten from a shared platter of injera, often with a fresh salad of tomato and chilli on the side. This version is cooked in oil and is dairy free. The mistake to avoid is rushing the onions: if they are not cooked down for a good 20 minutes the sauce stays thin and sharp. Chef's tip: make it a day ahead; goat wat thickens and tastes even better after a night in the fridge.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Spris (layered fruit juice)

Juice houses all over Addis Ababa, with their towers of fruit stacked in the window, are famous for spris: a tall glass of thick purées poured in stripes, usually green avocado, golden mango and orange papaya, with a wedge of lime on the rim. It is closer to a spoonable smoothie than a juice, and people often eat the layers one by one before stirring the rest together. It makes a filling breakfast or an afternoon pick-me-up, and children love the colours. Chef's tip: blend each fruit separately and keep every purée thick enough to hold a spoon; runny purées bleed into each other and the stripes vanish.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Telba (roasted flaxseed drink)

Flax grows across the highlands of Gojjam, and on Wednesdays, Fridays and through Lent its toasted seeds become telba, a creamy, nutty drink that fills you up when animal food is off the menu. The seeds are dry-roasted until they pop, ground fine, then whisked with water and strained, giving a pale brown drink with a faint toasted-sesame flavour and a slightly silky body. It is also taken as a gentle remedy for an upset stomach. Families often sweeten it with honey; sugar keeps it fully vegan. Don't roast the flaxseed too far: over-roasted seeds turn the drink bitter. Chef's tip: grind only what you need that day, because ground flax goes stale and bitter within days; whole roasted seeds keep for weeks in a jar.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Atmit (warm barley gruel with spiced butter and honey)

When a baby is born in an Amhara household, visiting women bring or cook atmit for the new mother, and the same soft, sippable gruel is made for anyone recovering from illness. Roasted barley flour (or oat flour) is whisked into water and simmered until it thickens to the texture of a thin custard, then enriched with a spoon of niter kibbeh, honey and a pinch of korerima. It tastes nutty, sweet and buttery, and is drunk warm from a cup rather than eaten with a spoon. Some homes add a little milk for extra richness. A common mistake is tipping the flour straight into hot water, which makes lumps; slake it in cold water first. Chef's tip: keep it thinner than you think; atmit thickens as it cools, and it should still pour easily from the cup.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Kuti (Harari coffee-leaf tea)

Harar sits in old coffee country, and its households drink not only the beans but the leaves: kuti is made by toasting dried coffee leaves and brewing them into a light, amber tea. It tastes soft and grassy with a hint of roasted coffee and far less caffeine than a cup of buna, so it is sipped through the afternoon, during long chats and after the fast is broken in Ramadan. Many Harari homes add milk and sugar; leave the milk out or use a plant milk to keep it vegan. Dried coffee leaves are sold as coffee leaf tea by some coffee and tea merchants. Do not swap in cascara, which is the dried coffee cherry husk and makes a different, fruitier drink. Chef's tip: toast the leaves only until they darken a shade and smell like toasted hay; overdone, they taste of ash.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

BirzFresh honey water

In Gojjam and Gondar, where honey is plentiful, birz is poured for children, for guests who do not drink, and at church feasts and weddings beside the tej. It starts the same way as honey wine, with honey stirred into water, but it is drunk fresh within hours, so it stays sweet, mild and completely alcohol-free. Good, flowery honey is everything here; it should taste like a cool, floral lemonade without the lemon. Because birz is honey and water, it will start to ferment by itself if left warm, so drink it the same day and keep it in the fridge until you pour it. Honey is not suitable for babies under 12 months. Chef's tip: dissolve the honey in a little warm water first; stirred straight into cold water, it sinks to the bottom in a sticky lump.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

DirkoshDried crisp injera

No Ethiopian kitchen throws injera away. Pieces that are past their best are torn up and dried in the sun, on the roof or on a tray by the fire until they snap like crackers, then kept in a sack or tin for weeks. This dirkosh is the backbone of quick meals on Wednesdays, Fridays and during the long Lent fast: a handful softened in a red onion and berbere sauce becomes fasting firfir in ten minutes, and travellers once carried it as food for the road. A low oven does the job at home in a few hours. Chef's tip: tear the injera into pieces no larger than a playing card; big sheets curl and stay leathery in the middle.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

DuletChopped tripe, liver and beef fry

Butcher-restaurants in Addis Ababa serve dulet in the morning, and it is one of the dishes families look forward to on Easter morning, when the long fast ends and every part of the animal is used. Tripe, liver and lean beef are chopped almost as fine as mince, then tossed in a hot pan with red onion, green chilli, niter kibbeh and plenty of mitmita, so it is rich, peppery and full of different textures. It is eaten with injera and a spoon of ayib to cool the heat. Many places serve it barely warmed, but liver and tripe must be cooked through, so this version pre-cooks the tripe and fries everything until no pink remains; dulet served raw or rare is not for pregnant women, young children or anyone with a weakened immune system. Chef's tip: buy tripe that is already cleaned and blanched, and simmer it until a knife slides in easily before chopping.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

ErgoSoured milk

Cattle-keeping families across rural Ethiopia leave fresh milk to thicken in smoked clay pots or gourds, and the result, ergo, is tangier and looser than yoghurt, somewhere between set buttermilk and a soft curd. It is spooned beside a spicy kitfo or wat to calm the heat, eaten for breakfast with bread, or drunk as it is on hot afternoons. The traditional way relies on raw milk souring by itself, which is not safe to copy at home; this version uses pasteurised whole milk with a spoon of live buttermilk or yoghurt as the starter, so the right bacteria do the work. Allow about 24 hours at room temperature for it to set. Chef's tip: keep it somewhere steady at 22–26 °C; too cool and it barely thickens, too warm and it separates into whey and lumps.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Seared gored goredSeared beef cubes in spiced butter

Gored gored is a celebration dish in Addis Ababa, ordered at butcher-restaurants and served at weddings and holiday gatherings, where cubes of the best beef are dressed with melted niter kibbeh, awaze and mitmita and eaten with injera. Traditionally the meat is served raw. Raw beef is not for pregnant women, young children or anyone with a weakened immune system, so this version sears the cubes over a fierce heat until well browned on every side and cooked to at least 63 °C in the centre, then rests them; take them to 71 °C if you prefer them fully cooked. The result is tender and juicy, rich with spiced butter and fiery from the awaze. Chef's tip: dry the cubes thoroughly with kitchen paper and sear them in two batches; a crowded pan steams the meat grey instead of browning it.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

MekeleshaWarm finishing spice blend

Berbere builds the heat and colour of a wat; mekelesha is what Ethiopian cooks add in the last few minutes to make it smell wonderful. It contains no chilli at all, only warm, aromatic spices: korerima (Ethiopian cardamom), cinnamon, cloves, black pepper and a little cumin and nutmeg, toasted and ground fine. A pinch goes into doro wat, key wat or misir wat just before serving, a little like garam masala in an Indian curry, and market spice sellers in Addis Ababa sell it in small twists of paper beside the berbere sacks. Korerima has a smoky, camphor-like note; if you cannot find it, mix green and black cardamom. The common mistake is adding it at the start of cooking, where long simmering dulls its perfume; stir it in at the end. Chef's tip: grind small batches and keep them in a dark jar, as the aroma fades after about two months.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Minchet abishMinced beef in berbere sauce

Where key wat is made with chunks of beef, minchet abish uses beef minced so finely that it melts into the sauce, giving a smooth, spoonable stew that clings to every piece of injera. Addis Ababa restaurants list it beside the other wats, and at home it is a Sunday and holiday dish because it stretches a modest amount of meat a long way. The flavour is deep and slightly sweet from a long-cooked onion base, warmed with berbere, ginger and a hint of fenugreek, with a lovely glossy finish. This version uses oil, which keeps it dairy free. Chef's tip: loosen the raw mince with a little cold water before it goes into the pan; it then breaks into fine grains instead of seizing into lumps, which is the most common mistake with this dish.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Mitin shiroRoasted chickpea and pea spice flour

Every pot of shiro wat starts with a few spoons of mitin shiro, and in Ethiopia most households either buy it by the kilo at the market or roast and grind a big batch a few times a year, especially before the fasting seasons when shiro is eaten almost daily. It is not a spice blend like berbere or mekelesha but a seasoned flour: dried chickpeas and split peas roasted until nutty, then milled with garlic, ginger, onion and chilli into a fine, orange-red powder. Whisked into simmering water with onions and oil it becomes a smooth stew in minutes. A home spice mill or strong blender does the grinding well. Chef's tip: roast the legumes until they are evenly golden and smell like toasted nuts; underdone, the shiro tastes raw and beany however long you simmer it.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Showing 24 of 42 recipes

Show more recipes

Page 1 of 2