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Mexican market juice stalls make agua de melón with the ripest, most fragrant cantaloupes, and many cooks blend in the seeds and the soft pulp around them, which adds a creamy body and a nutty flavour. It's served in tall glasses on hot afternoons from Guanajuato to Veracruz and is a favourite with kids. Chef's tip: smell the stalk end of the melon before you buy it; if it smells sweet, the drink will too.
In Quảng Nam and Huế, where jackfruit trees shade nearly every garden, cooks pick the fruit while it is still green and hard and braise it like pork. The flesh soaks up a dark caramel and coconut-water sauce and turns tender and stringy, with a mild, savoury, almost meaty chew. Pagoda kitchens serve it during the Vu Lan month and on fasting days, alongside rice and a plate of boiled greens. Ordinary homes often add pork belly or fish sauce; this temple-style pot keeps it plant-based. Chef's tip: oil your hands and knife before cutting fresh jackfruit, or use tinned young jackfruit in brine; the sap is sticky like glue and is the usual reason people give up.
At beach stalls in Mazatlán and Veracruz and in market fondas in Mexico City, a steaming, brick-red caldo de camarón is the cure for a long night and the Lenten Friday lunch of choice. The broth gets its depth from shrimp shells and dried guajillo chillies, and shell-on prawns, carrot, potato and courgette are cooked in it briefly at the end. Serve with lime, chopped onion and coriander, and tostadas. Chef's tip: add the prawns only in the last 3 minutes; they keep cooking in the bowl and toughen quickly.
The name means 'sailing cactus', for the strips of nopal floating in a light red broth, and the dish is a standby of Lent in Hidalgo and the State of Mexico, when cooks want something warming and meatless. Eggs are cracked straight into the simmering caldo to poach, and the bowl is finished with fresh cheese, coriander and lime. It is light, cheap and ready in about forty minutes. Use a vegetarian cheese if you avoid animal rennet. Chef's tip: boil the nopales separately first and rinse well, so their slippery juice doesn't thicken the broth.
When watermelons are piled high in the markets of Jalisco and Sonora in summer, almost every taquería has a jar of bright pink agua de sandía next to the horchata. It needs only ripe watermelon, water, a squeeze of lime and a touch of sugar, and children love it. Chef's tip: a very ripe melon may need no sugar at all, so taste before you sweeten.
Despite its name, mole de olla is not a thick mole but a brick-red soup, made in big clay pots on chilly days in Mexico City, Hidalgo and Morelos. Beef shank simmers until soft, then a guajillo-ancho broth carries chunks of corn on the cob, chayote, courgette, green beans and potatoes, finished with a sprig of epazote. It is served in deep bowls with chopped onion, chiles and lime, and tortillas for dunking. Chef's tip: keep the marrow bones in the pot; they enrich the broth and are a cook's treat on toast.
Every Vietnamese family meal has a canh, a light soup to sip between mouthfuls of rice, and in autumn in the north the pot is often full of orange pumpkin. Unlike a blended Western pumpkin soup this one stays clear and brothy, with soft, sweet chunks you break with a spoon. Most kitchens add minced pork or dried prawns; this vegetarian version gets its depth from shiitake and a little soy. It is a good soup for children and for anyone recovering from a cold. Chef's tip: cut the pumpkin into even 3 cm chunks and stop cooking as soon as they are tender; overcooked pumpkin falls apart and turns the broth cloudy and porridge-like.
Southern families serve this soup on the first days of Tết because khổ qua sounds like 'the hardship has passed'. Short lengths of bitter melon are hollowed out, packed with seasoned minced pork, wood ear mushroom and mung bean vermicelli, and simmered until the green skins turn soft and the pork is juicy. The broth is clear and gently bitter, a welcome counterpoint to sweet braised dishes. A vegetarian stuffing of crumbled tofu and mushrooms works the same way. Chef's tip: scrape out all the white pith along with the seeds and blanch the melon briefly; leaving the pith in is what makes the soup aggressively bitter.
Pink, warm and sweet, atole de fresa is a children's favourite in Mexico City and Irapuato, the strawberry capital of Guanajuato, sold in polystyrene cups alongside tamales for breakfast. Fresh strawberries are blended with milk and thickened with a little masa, which gives a gentle corn flavour under the fruit. It contains dairy. Chef's tip: blend the strawberries raw and add them at the end, so the drink keeps its bright colour.
Few dishes say Good Friday in Mexico City, Hidalgo and Tlaxcala like a bowl of thick, golden caldo de habas, made from peeled dried fava beans cooked down until they almost dissolve. Tomato, onion and garlic give it body, cumin warmth and a handful of fresh mint lifts it, with lime and a pinch of chilli flakes at the table. Cheap, filling and protein-rich, it suits any cold weekday. Look for yellow, peeled split favas at Latin or Middle Eastern shops. Chef's tip: add the mint only at the very end, or it turns grey and loses its scent.
Canja came to Brazil from Portugal and became the soup every Brazilian mother makes when someone is ill, the traditional food for new mothers during the resguardo after childbirth and, oddly, a favourite at the end of long parties. Chicken is simmered with onion and garlic, then shredded back into the broth with rice, carrot and potato, and finished with parsley and spring onion. It's gentle and filling. Chef's tip: cook the rice in the broth only until just tender; it keeps swelling in the bowl.
Pipián verde is one of the oldest sauces in central Mexico, thickened with ground pumpkin seeds long before chocolate moles appeared, and in Puebla it is often served during Lent with vegetables. Toasted seeds are blended with tomatillo, green chiles, herbs and lettuce leaves into a pale jade sauce that tastes nutty and gently tangy. Here it coats tender chayote and green beans; the same sauce is also made with poached chicken. Serve with rice and warm tortillas. Chef's tip: once the seed paste is in the pan, keep it at a lazy simmer, because boiling makes the sauce grainy and split.
In April and May, when Ataulfo mangoes from Chiapas and Manila mangoes from Veracruz flood the markets, agua de mango becomes the drink of every comida corrida. It is thick, golden and very fruity, sharpened with lime. Chef's tip: use soft, fully ripe yellow mangoes with wrinkled skin; they need far less sugar and give a smooth, fibre-free drink.
Tlalpan, on the southern edge of Mexico City, was once the last stop for travellers heading to Cuernavaca, and its roadside inns fed them this chicken soup. Chipotle gives the broth a brick-red, smoky warmth, and chickpeas, carrots and green beans make it a meal. It goes to the table with cubes of avocado, mild cheese and lime. Chef's tip: add the chipotle a little at a time and taste; the heat builds as the soup simmers.
During the nine nights of posadas from 16 to 24 December, neighbours in central Mexico walk the streets singing for shelter, and the reward at the last door is a cup of steaming ponche ladled from a clay pot. Whole fruits, tejocotes, guavas, apple, prunes, sticks of sugarcane, simmer with hibiscus, cinnamon and piloncillo until the punch is fragrant and amber, and everyone fishes the soft fruit out with a spoon. This recipe is alcohol-free and good for all ages; some adults add a splash of rum to their own cup, but none is used here. Chef's tip: add the guavas late, as they collapse if cooked too long.
Saigon's nhậu (drinking-snack) joints grill long purple aubergines over charcoal until they collapse, peel them by hand and drown them in hot scallion oil and nước chấm. At home in the south it turns up beside caramelised dishes and rice on weeknights. This vegan version swaps fish sauce for a tamari dressing; the smoky, silky flesh and the green onion oil still carry the dish. Chef's tip: grill the aubergines until the skin is blackened all over and the whole thing slumps; undercooked aubergine is spongy and won't peel.
Thai spa receptions and roadside rice shops both pour this from big glass jars, and in Chiang Mai and Bangkok homes a pot is often simmering on hot afternoons. Bruised lemongrass gives a clean, lemony, slightly grassy taste and pandan a soft vanilla note; lightly sweetened, it is refreshing over ice and soothing warm on a rainy-season evening. Chef's tip: the usual mistake is chopping the lemongrass fine and boiling it hard, which makes it bitter; bash the stalks and simmer gently.
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.
Tom klong is the older, rustic cousin of tom yum, cooked in central Thai homes along the rivers of Suphan Buri and Ang Thong, where fish was dried and smoked to keep through the rains. Shallots, garlic and dried chillies are charred first, then simmered with tamarind, lemongrass and galangal, and smoked dried fish turns the clear broth deep and savoury. It is sour, smoky and hot, eaten with rice and a plain omelette. Look for dried smoked fish (pla krob or pla salid) in Asian grocers, or use smoked mackerel. Chef's tip: grill the aromatics until blackened in patches; pale, raw shallots give a thin soup without the smoke that defines it.
In the cold months, when guavas from Aguascalientes and Michoacán perfume the markets, street vendors in Mexico City ladle atole de guayaba from big steaming pots beside the tamal cart. Ripe guava is blended with milk, strained and thickened with cornflour into a pink, creamy, fragrant drink. It contains dairy. Chef's tip: add the blended guava only once the milk is thickened and off the boil, so the milk doesn't curdle.
In Puebla, where poblano chiles take their name, this pale-jade soup appears at family lunches and on the menu of almost every cocina económica. Roasted chiles are blended with onion, a little corn and milk, then enriched with cream, so the flavour is smoky and mellow with just a flicker of heat. Serve it with crisp tortilla strips or a few corn kernels on top. Chef's tip: roast a couple of extra chiles while the grill is hot; the strips keep for four days and lift any taco or quesadilla.
Central Thai home cooks make tom kha as one of the dishes at a shared dinner, spooned over rice rather than drunk as a starter, and Bangkok restaurants serve it in a bubbling fire pot. Galangal, lemongrass and kaffir lime leaf are simmered in coconut milk with chicken and mushrooms, then seasoned at the end with fish sauce and lime, so the soup is creamy, sour, salty and only gently hot. For a vegetarian version (tom kha het), use 400 g mixed mushrooms and firm tofu, vegetable stock and light soy sauce instead of fish sauce. Chef's tip: add the lime juice off the heat; boiling lime turns bitter and dulls the whole pot.
A milpa is the traditional Mexican field where corn, beans and squash grow side by side, and this soup puts the summer harvest from that field into one pot. A light tomato broth carries chunks of corn, courgette, roasted poblano strips, a handful of black beans and squash blossoms, with epazote for its earthy, herbal note. In Central Mexico it's a healthy everyday lunch in the rainy season. Top it with cubes of panela cheese, which is usually made with animal rennet; choose a vegetarian one. Chef's tip: cut the corn into rounds rather than taking off the kernels, so everyone gets a sweet piece to gnaw.
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.
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