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EinspännerBlack coffee with whipped cream

The Einspänner is named after the one-horse carriages of old Vienna: coachmen waiting outside in winter supposedly liked their coffee under a lid of cream that kept it hot and stopped it slopping. Today it is served in a handled glass at classic coffee houses, a strong black mocha (a double espresso or Großer Brauner without milk) topped with a thick layer of cold, lightly sweetened whipped cream and a pinch of icing sugar. You do not stir it: you sip the hot, bitter coffee through the cold, sweet cream, so each mouthful is two temperatures and two textures. It is an afternoon or late-morning coffee, often with a slice of Sachertorte. The common mistake is runny cream that sinks and turns the drink into a milky latte; whip it until it just holds a peak and spoon it on gently so it floats. It is ready when the cream stands at least 2 cm above the coffee and slowly sinks at the edges. It is strong: a double shot of caffeine in one glass. Chef's tip: pour the coffee in first and wait ten seconds before adding the cream, so the crema settles and helps support the cap.

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Ju hua chaChrysanthemum tea

Ju hua cha is chrysanthemum tea, a summer staple in Hangzhou, where the famous small white Hang bai ju flowers grow, and across Guangdong and Hong Kong, where it is poured at dim sum and sold chilled in street-side stalls. Dried flowers open in hot water into a pale golden, honey-scented infusion with a gentle bitterness. It is drunk plain here: no salt and no sugar, so about 0.0 g salt per cup. The usual mistake is using boiling water, which turns it harsh; let the kettle rest for a minute first. A few goji berries add colour and a little natural sweetness. Chef's tip: rinse the dried flowers quickly in warm water first to wash off dust and wake up their fragrance.

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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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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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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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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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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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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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Escabeche de pescadoFried fish in sweet-sour onion sauce

In Lima, escabeche de pescado belongs to the criollo kitchen of the old city: it turns up on Friday lunch menus, on buffet tables, and above all in Lent and Holy Week, when families eat fish and this dish can be made the day before. Fish is fried until golden, then covered in a warm sauce of thick-cut red onion softened in oil with garlic, ají amarillo, ají panca, cumin and vinegar, and left to cool so the flavours soak in. It is served cold or at room temperature with boiled sweet potato, hard-boiled egg and purple botija olives. It tastes tangy, sweet and gently fruity-hot, with crunchy onion over tender fish. The fish here is fully cooked, but because it is a cold seafood dish, pregnant people, babies, older people and anyone with weak immunity should eat it well chilled and within 2 days. Common mistake: stewing the onions until limp; they should only lose their raw bite. It is ready when the sauce has soaked a little into the fish and smells of vinegar and toasted chilli. Chef's tip: use thick fillets of corvina or bonito; thin fillets break under the sauce.

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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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Beijing douzhiFermented mung bean drink

Douzhi is the most famous acquired taste in Beijing: a hot, grey-green, sour drink made from the liquid left when mung beans are ground for starch, then fermented. Old Beijingers sip it at breakfast with crisp jiaoquan rings and shredded salted mustard pickles, and visitors either love it or never try it twice. At home you make a small batch by blending mung beans, settling out the starch and fermenting the cloudy water for a day. The mistake is letting it boil hard: it separates into watery and thick layers, so keep it at a gentle bubble. It must smell cleanly sour like yogurt; throw it away if it smells rotten, has mould, or turns pink or slimy. Chef's tip: stir it continuously as it heats and add a splash of the thinner liquid at the end, which keeps the classic smooth, slightly thick texture.

1440 minChineseDrinksVeganGluten free
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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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Wiener MelangeCoffee with milk and foam

In Vienna you never simply order 'a coffee'; you order by name, and the Melange is the one most Viennese ask for. It arrives in a large cup on a small silver tray with a glass of water and often a tiny chocolate, and you may sit over it for an hour with the newspapers at Café Prückel or Hawelka, mid-morning or after lunch. Traditionally it is a mild, longer espresso (a Verlängerter) with roughly equal hot milk and a soft cap of milk foam; it is gentler than a cappuccino and the foam is looser and creamier. Expect a round, nutty, slightly sweet cup with little bitterness. The common mistake is overheating the milk: once it passes about 70 °C it smells cooked and loses its sweetness and the foam turns big-bubbled and dry. Stop when the jug is too hot to hold for more than a second or two. It is ready when the foam sits in a smooth, glossy dome about a finger thick and the coffee shows as a brown ring at the edge. One cup has about the caffeine of a single espresso. Chef's tip: always serve the glass of water alongside, as Vienna does; it is drunk first to clear the palate.

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Qingzheng luyuSteamed sea bass

Steamed whole fish is the heart of a Cantonese family dinner in Guangzhou and Hong Kong, and at Lunar New Year it is served whole for abundance. Sea bass steams over ginger until just set, then gets a pour of seasoned soy and a sizzle of hot oil over shredded spring onion that releases a sweet, fragrant aroma. The flesh should be silky and moist. It is low in fat and suitable as part of a balanced diet; serve with greens and a small portion of rice. About 230 kcal and 3 g carbohydrate per portion. The usual mistake is over-steaming: even two minutes too long makes the flesh dry and woolly. Chef's tip: lay the fish on two chopsticks across the plate so steam circulates underneath and it cooks evenly.

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Dousha bao (red bean buns)

All over China, from Beijing breakfast stalls to Shanghai school bags, dousha bao are the sweet buns people grab in the morning and tuck into a lunch box for later: fluffy white yeasted dough wrapped around smooth red bean paste and steamed until springy. They freeze beautifully, so families make a big batch on Sunday. The mistake is opening the steamer lid as soon as the timer goes; the sudden cold makes the buns wrinkle and collapse. Turn off the heat and wait five minutes before lifting the lid. Chef's tip: chill the bean paste and roll it into balls before wrapping; a firm filling is much easier to seal neatly.

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Hongzao guiyuan cha (red date and longan tea)

Across southern China, from Fujian to Guangdong, a pot of red dates and dried longan is what mothers and grandmothers put on the stove when the weather turns cold, and it is the classic drink brought to new mothers during zuo yuezi, the month of rest after childbirth. It is also sipped through the winter in the afternoon, or offered to visitors at Lunar New Year because the red dates promise sweetness ahead. The tea is amber-brown, naturally sweet and fruity, with a caramel, smoky depth from the longan and a gentle warmth if you add ginger. The common mistake is simmering whole dates: their skins stay tight and the tea tastes thin. Slit or tear each date so the flesh can give up its sweetness, then simmer slowly. It is ready when the dates are puffed and soft, the longan has swollen and the liquid is the colour of weak tea and tastes of toffee. It is traditionally drunk for comfort and warmth, not as a medicine; it is high in natural sugar, so go easy if you watch your blood sugar, and goji can interact with blood-thinning medicines, so check with a doctor if you take them. Chef's tip: eat the softened fruit from the bottom of the cup with a spoon; nothing is wasted.

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Suanmeitang (sour plum drink)

Old Beijing sold suanmeitang from brass bowls at street corners in summer, chilled with blocks of river ice, and the Qing court drank a version as a cooler. Today it comes in big jugs at copper-pot hotpot restaurants, where its sourness cuts through mutton and sesame sauce; families brew a pot every few days all summer. Smoked wumei plums give a deep, almost bacon-like smokiness, hawthorn adds fruity acid, licorice softens the edges and rock sugar rounds everything off, with dried osmanthus on top for a honeyed scent. It should be dark ruby, clear and refreshing, tart first and sweet after. The common mistake is boiling it hard for hours: the plum stones and hawthorn seeds release bitterness and the brew turns muddy. Simmer gently, strain early and chill fast. It is ready when the plums have collapsed and the liquid tastes clearly sour-sweet with a smoky finish. Licorice root is traditionally used in small amounts; people with high blood pressure, heart or kidney problems, or who are pregnant should keep the licorice out or check with a doctor. Chef's tip: add the osmanthus only after the heat is off, or its perfume vanishes.

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Douzhi (fermented mung bean drink)

Douzhi is the breakfast that divides Beijing. It is the sour liquid left over when mung beans are ground and their starch settles out to make noodles and jelly; left to ferment for a day or two, the grey-green whey turns tangy, a little cheesy and sulphurous. Old Beijingers drink it piping hot at dawn in hutong shops around Qianmen and Huguosi, with a dish of finely shredded salty pickle dressed in chilli oil and crisp fried dough rings (jiaoquan) from the bakery. First-timers often say it smells like stale socks; regulars say it tastes like home. The texture is thin and slightly creamy, the flavour sour, a little bitter and savoury. The common mistake is boiling the soured starch hard: it separates into grey water and sludge. Bring it up slowly, stirring, and take it off as soon as it froths. The ferment makes only a trace of alcohol, well under 1%. Ferment at 20–25 °C; normal signs are fine bubbles, a sour, yogurt-like smell and a grey colour. Discard it if you see fuzzy mould, pink or black patches, a slimy texture or a putrid smell. Chef's tip: save 100 ml of a good batch to start the next one, as Beijing workshops do.

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Juhua cha (chrysanthemum tea)

The small white hangbaiju flowers grown around Tongxiang, near Hangzhou, are picked in November, steamed and dried, and they end up in teapots all over China. Families brew them after a rich dinner, through the dry autumn, and iced in summer; dim sum houses in the south offer them as a caffeine-free choice, often mixed with pu-erh. The tea is pale gold, lightly floral with a faint bitterness like chamomile, softened by a little rock sugar and a few goji berries that turn plump and red in the pot. The common mistake is pouring boiling water straight onto the flowers and leaving them for twenty minutes; the tea turns brownish and bitter. Water just off the boil, around 90 °C, and a short steep keep it clear and sweet. It is ready when the flowers have opened like little daisies, the colour is light amber and the smell is honey-like. You can top up the pot two or three times. If you are allergic to ragweed, daisies or marigolds, try a small cup first or skip it, as chrysanthemum belongs to the same family. Chef's tip: for iced juhua cha, brew it double strength and pour it straight over a glass full of ice so it does not taste watery.

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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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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.

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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.

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MajariscoPlantain mash with seafood

Its name blends 'majado' (mashed plantain) and 'marisco' (seafood), and along the coast of Piura and Tumbes, near the Ecuadorian border, it's what cevicherías and beach restaurants serve when you want something hot and filling. Mashed green plantain is folded into a sauce of garlic, onion, ají and seafood juices, with prawns, squid and mussels running through it, so every forkful is creamy, garlicky and briny. Serve it with lime and salsa criolla. Mussels must be alive: tap any open ones and discard those that don't close, and discard any that stay shut after cooking. Overcooking the seafood is the most frequent mistake; it goes in at the end, just until pink and opaque. Chef's tip: keep the mussel cooking liquid and use it to loosen the mash; it's pure seafood flavour.

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Maki acevichadoPrawn tempura rolls with ceviche sauce

Lima's Nikkei sushi bars invented the acevichado and it has become the roll every Peruvian orders: prawn tempura and avocado rolled in rice, topped with thin slices of fish and drenched in a creamy, lime-sharp sauce built from leche de tigre, ají amarillo and mayonnaise. Crisp, warm, cold and tangy in one bite, it is party food and Friday-night takeaway alike. For a safer topping, use sashimi-grade fish frozen at −20 °C for 24 hours first, keep it cold and eat the rolls at once; you can also sear the slices with a blowtorch or use cooked prawns instead. Even so, the raw-fish topping is not for pregnant women, young children or anyone with a weakened immune system. Overfilling is the usual mistake: the roll won't close and the rice splits. Chef's tip: use a pasteurised-egg mayonnaise and wet your hands with vinegared water so the rice doesn't stick.

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