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Khus sharbatVetiver root syrup drink

Before air-conditioning, North Indian houses hung wet mats of khus grass over their doors in June, and the breeze through them smelt of damp earth and wood. The same vetiver root flavours this sharbat, a summer staple in Delhi, Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh. Shop-bought bottles are bright emerald green from colouring; a homemade syrup is pale gold and tastes far more of the root itself, cool and grassy. Families serve it diluted with water to guests arriving from the heat, or with cold milk as a dessert drink at summer parties. The common mistake is boiling the roots hard; the aroma is delicate and cooks off, so infuse them in hot water instead and add the infusion to the syrup off the heat. Chef's tip: if you want the classic green colour for children, a drop of green food colour does no harm, but taste it plain first.

30 min

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Meen acharFish pickle

Every Kerala Christian and Muslim household seems to keep a jar of meen achar somewhere, especially at Christmas, when it is made in big batches and packed for relatives working in the Gulf. Firm fish, usually neymeen (seer fish or king mackerel) or tuna, is cut into small cubes, rubbed with chilli and turmeric and fried in gingelly (sesame) oil until crisp and fully cooked through, opaque and firm. The pieces are then folded into a fierce masala of garlic, ginger, green chilli and curry leaves with plenty of chilli powder and vinegar, and left for two days to soak it all up. It is hot, sour and garlicky, a little goes a long way with curd rice, kanji or a plate of rice and dal. Use a sterilised, completely dry jar, keep the pieces under a layer of oil and always use a clean, dry spoon. Store it in the fridge and eat within 4 weeks; throw it away if you see mould or it smells off. Chef's tip: fry the fish until it sounds hollow and crisp; any moisture left inside is what spoils fish pickle.

60 min

Indian Fish

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Masala chaasSpiced buttermilk

No Gujarati lunch is finished until the steel glass of chaas comes round. From Ahmedabad pols to Kathiyawadi farmhouses, homemade dahi is thinned right down, churned with a wooden ravai or a blender, and seasoned with roasted cumin, black salt, a little ginger and green chilli, then poured ice-cold after dal-bhaat-shaak-rotli. It should be thin enough to drink in one go, salty, gently hot and full of coriander; that is what settles a heavy meal in May. Kerala's sambaram, with shallot and curry leaf, is a close cousin. A common mistake is churning thick, very cold full-fat dahi for too long: the fat clumps into flecks of butter and the chaas turns thin and greasy. Blend the dahi with only part of the water for a few seconds, then stir in the rest. Chef's tip: dahi that is a day old and slightly sour makes the best chaas; very fresh, sweet dahi tastes flat however much masala you add.

10 min

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Pathar ka goshtStone-seared spiced mutton

Legend credits a Nizam's hunting party with the idea, but today pathar ka gosht is a speciality of Old City eateries and Eid get-togethers in Hyderabad. Boneless mutton (goat, from the leg) is cut into thin escalopes, beaten even thinner and marinated with raw papaya, ginger, garlic, black pepper and lemon, then seared on a slab of granite heated over coals until it is browned at the edges, smoky and remarkably tender. Lamb leg works just as well. At home, a heavy cast-iron griddle gives a very similar result; if you use a stone, it must be untreated, food-grade granite, heated slowly so it doesn't crack. Serve sizzling with onion rings, lemon wedges, crisp fried onions and warm sheermal or naan. Chef's tip: slice the meat across the grain while it is half-frozen; it is far easier to cut 5 mm slices that way, and thin, even slices are what make this dish.

60 min

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Aam pannaRaw mango cooler

When the first hard green mangoes arrive in April, kitchens from Lucknow to Pune start boiling them for panna. The cooked pulp is blended with roasted cumin, black salt, mint and sugar or jaggery into a thick concentrate that keeps in the fridge for a week, then diluted glass by glass with cold water. Grandmothers swear by it against loo, the hot dry wind of a North Indian summer, and in Maharashtra the same drink, called kairi panha, is served to guests at Gudi Padwa and haldi-kumkum gatherings. It tastes sour first, then sweet, then smoky from the cumin. A common mistake is using mangoes that have begun to ripen and turn yellow: the panna tastes flat and fruity rather than bracing, so pick firm, green, sour ones. Chef's tip: pressure cooking the mangoes whole in their skins keeps the pulp pale and fragrant; scraping too close to the skin and stone adds bitterness.

30 min

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Goan prawn rissoles

Rissóis came to Goa with the Portuguese and never left: every Catholic household in Margao, Panjim or Mapusa has an aunt known for her rissoles, made by the tray for Christmas, weddings and christening parties. A soft, cooked flour dough is rolled thin, filled with a thick white sauce full of chopped prawns, green chilli and lime, folded into half-moons, crumbed and fried until golden and crunchy. Inside, the filling is creamy and gently peppery with a little heat. Use firm raw prawns that smell fresh of the sea; discard any that smell of ammonia or look slimy, and cook them only until pink and curled. The filling must be completely cold before you fill the pastries, or they burst. Crumbed rissoles freeze well for up to a month, so make them a week before the party and fry from frozen. Chef's tip: seal the edges with a little egg and press them with a fork; an unsealed edge is where the filling leaks into the oil.

90 min

Indian Fish

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JaljeeraTamarind mint cumin drink

Street vendors in Old Delhi and Varanasi sell jaljeera from big red clay matkas wrapped in wet cloth, ladling it into glasses with a handful of boondi on top. The name simply means cumin water, but the flavour is busier than that: sour tamarind and lemon, a cool rush of mint, the sulphur note of black salt and the warmth of roasted cumin and dry ginger. It is drunk before a heavy Punjabi meal to wake the appetite, at summer weddings, and on long train journeys. Make the masala fresh and the difference shows. The common mistake is using raw cumin powder; it tastes dusty. Dry-roast whole cumin until it darkens a shade and smells toasty, then grind it. Chef's tip: add the boondi only at the table so it stays crunchy for the first sip and softens by the last.

13 min

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Kulukki sarbathShaken lime cooler

Kulukki means shaken, and the show is half the fun: at roadside stalls in Kozhikode, Kochi and Thrissur, the vendor drops lime, a slit green chilli, basil seeds, syrup and ice into a tall steel tumbler, caps it with another and rattles it furiously before pouring a frothy glass. The drink became a craze across Kerala in the 2010s and is now a beach and festival favourite. It tastes sharp, sweet, salty and then hot as the chilli catches the back of your throat. Some stalls add pineapple or passion fruit. The common mistake is crushing the lime and chilli too hard or leaving them to sit, which makes the drink bitter from the peel and far too fiery; shake briefly and pour at once. Chef's tip: use a jar with a tight lid half filled with ice; the ice does the crushing and makes the foam.

10 min

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Mango mastaniMango milkshake with ice cream

Pune's mastani was born in the city's old peths, and families still queue on summer evenings at the famous shops near Budhwar Peth and Sadashiv Peth for a tall glass so thick you need a spoon. The base is a mango milkshake, made dense with ripe Alphonso pulp and ice cream, then topped with another scoop of mango ice cream, chopped nuts, tutti frutti and a cherry. It is named, people say, after Bajirao Peshwa's beloved Mastani. Rich and fruity, it is dessert and a cool drink in one. A common mistake is adding ice to the blender: it thins the shake and dulls the mango, so chill the milk and pulp well instead. Chef's tip: Alphonso from Ratnagiri or Devgad gives the right colour and fragrance; in the off season use good tinned Alphonso pulp and skip the sugar.

10 min

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Nannari sarbathSarsaparilla and lime cooler

Walk past any sarbath kadai in Madurai, Tiruchi or Chennai's Parry's Corner in summer and you'll hear the clink of a glass being stirred with a long spoon. Nannari, the sweet, woody, vanilla-like root of Indian sarsaparilla, is cooked into a dark syrup; the vendor pours a little into a glass, squeezes in a whole lime, adds a pinch of salt and ice, and tops it with water or a fizz of soda. It is sweet, sharp and earthy all at once, and nothing like the milky jigarthanda made with the same syrup. Many shops add soaked sabja seeds for texture. The common mistake is too much syrup: the root flavour gets lost in sweetness, so start with less and let the lime lead. Chef's tip: squeeze the lime straight into the glass and drop in one squeezed half; a little oil from the peel gives that roadside freshness.

10 min

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Kakori kebabMinced mutton skewers

The village of Kakori, just outside Lucknow, gave its name to the softest kebab of Awadh, said to have been created for a nawab who could no longer chew. Mutton (goat) mince, ground twice until it is almost a paste, is bound with roasted gram flour, khoya and fried onion, tenderised with raw papaya and perfumed with mace, green cardamom, rose petals and a few drops of kewra. It is wrapped around long skewers and cooked over charcoal until the outside is lightly charred and the inside so delicate that it falls apart on the tongue. Lamb mince with some fat is the best swap. Kakori kebabs are an Eid and wedding favourite, served wrapped in thin rumali roti or ulte tawe ka paratha with mint chutney and onion rings. Because it is minced meat, cook it to 71 °C in the centre. Chef's tip: ask the butcher for mince from the shoulder with about 20 per cent fat and have it ground twice; lean mince makes dry kebabs that won't cling to the skewer.

60 min

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Ball curryMutton meatball curry

Ask any Anglo-Indian family in Kolkata, Chennai or Bengaluru what's on the Christmas lunch table and ball curry will be near the top, along with yellow coconut rice, roast chicken and a fruit cake for later. The 'balls' are soft koftas of spiced minced meat with onion, green chilli, mint and coriander, dropped raw into a simmering coconut and tomato curry so they absorb its flavour as they cook. Many homes use beef mince; this recipe uses mutton (goat) mince, which is easier to find in most Indian cities and gives a lighter, sweeter flavour. Lamb mince is a good swap. The curry is medium-hot, tangy from tomato and rounded off with coconut milk. Because it is minced meat, cook the koftas through to 71 °C in the centre. Serve with yellow rice, plain rice or appam. Chef's tip: wet your hands with cold water while rolling; the koftas come out smooth with no cracks and stay whole in the gravy.

75 min

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Doi maachFish in spiced yogurt gravy

At a Bengali wedding feast or on Jamai Shashthi, when sons-in-law are fed like kings, doi maach is the fish course everyone waits for. Thick steaks of rohu or katla, the big freshwater carp of Bengal's ponds, are rubbed with turmeric and salt, fried in sharp mustard oil and then simmered in a pale, creamy gravy of whisked yogurt, ginger and onion paste and whole garam masala, sweetened just enough to balance the tang. It is mild and fragrant rather than hot. Carp has fine bones, so eat it slowly. Cook the fish until it is opaque and flakes easily from the bone. Serve with steamed gobindobhog or plain white rice, and a squeeze of gondhoraj lime if you can find it. Common mistake: tipping cold yogurt straight into hot oil, which splits it into grainy curds. Chef's tip: whisk the yogurt with the spice powders and a spoonful of the hot gravy first, then add it over the lowest heat.

50 min

Indian Fish

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Kerala duck roast

Christmas morning in Kuttanad and Kottayam often begins after midnight Mass with palappam and a dark, glossy tharavu roast. Ducks are raised along the Kerala backwaters, and Syrian Christian families save this dish for feast days. Duck is a richer, firmer bird than chicken: here it is cut into curry pieces, marinated with pepper, turmeric and vinegar, pressure-cooked until tender, then roasted in coconut oil with masses of onion, ginger, garlic and green chilli, coriander and plenty of black pepper, before thick coconut milk softens the heat. Cook the duck right through until tender, and for safety until 74 °C in the thickest pieces. The finished roast should be thick and clinging rather than soupy. Serve with appam, idiyappam or crusty bread, with a vegetable stew on the side. Common mistake: leaving all the duck fat in; skim the rich fat off the cooking liquid or the roast turns greasy. Chef's tip: keep the skimmed duck fat in the fridge and use a spoonful to fry potatoes.

120 min

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PiyushShrikhand buttermilk drink

Piyush means nectar, and Pune and Mumbai Maharashtrians drink it on summer afternoons, at Gudi Padwa lunches when there is leftover shrikhand, or from old dairy shops near Dadar and Girgaon where it is sold in glass bottles. It sits between lassi and dessert: thick but pourable, sweet and gently sour, yellow with saffron and scented with cardamom and a whisper of nutmeg. It is lovely with a spicy batata vada or after a puran poli meal. The common mistake is pouring cold buttermilk straight onto stiff shrikhand, which leaves stubborn lumps; loosen the shrikhand with a little buttermilk first, then whisk in the rest. Chef's tip: bloom the saffron in a spoonful of warm milk; cold buttermilk won't pull the colour out.

10 min

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Badam milkAlmond milk

In Hyderabad and Bengaluru, darshinis and Irani cafés sell badam milk from steaming steel urns, while in North Indian homes a hot glass of it is what you get after an exam or on a cold Delhi evening. It is creamy and nutty, tinted pale gold by saffron, and has fine, pleasant flecks of almond rather than being smooth like a shake. Chilled, it is sold in bottles all summer and served at weddings. Soaking and peeling the almonds is what makes it taste clean and sweet. A common mistake is grinding the almonds dry, which turns them oily and gritty; grind soaked almonds with a little milk to a fine paste. Chef's tip: simmer gently after adding the almond paste and keep stirring, because it settles and catches on the bottom of the pan within minutes.

25 min

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Kokum sharbatKokum cordial

Along the Konkan coast, from Ratnagiri down to Goa, the purple kokum fruit is split and dried in the sun every summer, and the leathery rinds go into curries, sol kadhi and this sharbat. Unlike sol kadhi, there is no coconut milk here: just a clear, deep-red syrup that is fruity, tart and faintly salty, diluted with cold water and drunk after a fish lunch or on a hot afternoon to cool the stomach. Families in Malvan and Sawantwadi still make the concentrate by layering fresh fruit with sugar in jars; this quicker version uses the dried rinds you can buy anywhere. The common mistake is boiling the kokum hard for a long time, which makes the syrup taste stewed and murky; simmer gently just until the colour floods out. Chef's tip: a pinch of roasted cumin and black salt in the glass turns a simple sweet drink into the proper coastal version.

15 min

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Bel sharbatWood apple drink

Bael trees grow beside temples across Uttar Pradesh and Bihar, and in May the hard golden fruits are cracked open on the doorstep with a pestle. The orange pulp smells of tamarind, marmalade and rose, and mashed into water it makes a thick, pulpy sharbat that people in Patna, Prayagraj and Gorakhpur drink mid-morning to keep the heat at bay; it is also famously kind to the stomach. Rickshaw stalls sell it from big steel pots. Ripe fruit is essential: it should sound hollow when tapped and smell sweet. The common mistake is blending the pulp in a mixer, which crushes the seeds and sticky fibres and makes the drink bitter and gluey; soak it and mash by hand instead. Chef's tip: let the pulp soak a full 15 minutes before mashing, and it practically falls off the fibres.

20 min

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Dum ka roatBaked semolina and khoya cake

Dum ka roat is baked in Hyderabadi homes and bakeries in the first ten days of Muharram, and boxes of it are shared with neighbours and at majlis gatherings in the Old City. It is closer to a dense shortbread than a sponge: coarse semolina soaked overnight in ghee and milk, mixed with khoya, sugar, eggs, cardamom and nutmeg, then baked slowly until golden and crumbly with a crunchy almond top. It contains egg, so it is vegetarian with egg, not vegan. Each piece tastes of browned butter, milk and spice, and it keeps for a week in a tin. Eat it with Irani chai. The common mistake is skipping the overnight rest: the semolina stays gritty and the roat falls apart. Chef's tip: bake low and slow, at 160 °C, until the top is deep golden and a skewer comes out with moist crumbs; at higher heat the edges burn before the khoya centre has set.

70 min

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Kali gajar ki kanjiFermented black carrot drink

When the last black carrots of winter reach Punjabi and UP markets in February and March, kitchens start a jar of kanji. The carrots are cut into fingers, steeped in water with crushed mustard seed, salt and chilli, and left in the sun for a few days until the liquid turns deep purple, sour and sharp enough to tickle your nose. It is drunk by the glass before meals around Holi as a digestive and a spring tonic, and the soft, tangy carrot sticks are eaten too. The flavour is like a lively pickle brine, earthy from the carrots and peppery from mustard. Use a glass or ceramic jar that you have washed and dried completely, keep the vegetables under the water, stir with a clean dry spoon, and discard if mould or an unpleasant smell appears. Chef's tip: a small beetroot deepens the colour if your carrots are more red than black, but don't overdo it or the kanji tastes earthy and sweet.

20 min

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BolinhasSemolina and coconut cookies

Bolinhas (small balls in Portuguese) are the cookies Goan Catholic families bake in batches for the Christmas kuswar, the tins of sweets sent to friends and neighbours in Panjim and Salcete in mid-December. Fresh coconut is cooked briefly in a sugar syrup, mixed with semolina and left overnight so the grains soften, then bound with butter and egg yolks, shaped into small balls, marked with a fork or a cross and baked until golden. The texture is sandy and crumbly outside with a chewy coconut centre, and they smell of cardamom and browned butter. They contain egg yolk, so they are vegetarian with egg, not vegan. The common mistake is baking them the same day: unsoaked semolina stays gritty and the cookies spread. Chef's tip: shape with slightly damp hands and keep them small, about 3 cm; they puff a little and need room on the tray.

55 min

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VattayappamSteamed rice and coconut cake

In Syrian Christian homes in Kottayam and Thiruvalla, vattayappam is the sweet that appears on Christmas and Easter mornings and goes in boxes to every neighbour. A batter of raw rice and coconut is fermented until airy, sweetened, flavoured with cardamom and steamed in a round plate until it rises into a fluffy, honeycombed cake. It is light, moist and gently sweet, with a faint tang from the ferment. Grandmothers used kallu (coconut toddy) to ferment it; this recipe uses dried yeast instead and contains no alcohol at all. Eat it warm with tea, or alongside chicken stew for breakfast. The common mistake is a batter that is too thick: it steams heavy and dense. It should pour like thick pancake batter. Rice and coconut only, so it is naturally gluten-free and vegan. Chef's tip: cook a spoon of the soaked rice into a soft porridge (kurukku) and grind it in; that is what gives vattayappam its fine, silky crumb.

60 min

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Ladi pavSoft pull-apart bread rolls

Pav came to Mumbai with the Portuguese and was taken up by the city's Goan and Irani bakeries, and today it is the bread every street snack depends on: vada pav, misal pav, bhurji pav, dabeli and pav bhaji. A ladi is a slab of rolls baked touching each other, so their sides stay pale and fluffy and they tear apart with soft white edges and a thin golden top. This home version uses milk and a little butter for a tender, slightly sweet crumb that holds up to a buttery tawa toast. It bakes in an ordinary oven at 190 °C (170 °C fan). Common mistake: baking the pav too long or too hot, so the crust turns hard and brown; take it out the moment the tops are golden and brush with butter at once. Chef's tip: cover the hot ladi with a clean cloth as it cools; the trapped steam is what gives that typical bakery softness.

50 min