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Malvani masalaKonkan spice blend

Head down the coast to Malvan, Vengurla or Devgad and every family has its own masala tin, ground in summer when the chillies are crisp and dry. Malvani masala is hotter and more aromatic than goda masala and uses no coconut: it is mostly Bedgi chillies (for a deep red colour and moderate heat) with a handful of fiery Sankeshwari, roasted with coriander and about fifteen whole spices including fennel, star anise, mace, nutmeg and stone flower. Fried in oil with coconut and onion, it becomes the base of kombdi vade (chicken curry with puris), bangda and surmai curries, prawn sukka, and vegetarian dishes like kala vatana usal and Malvani batata bhaji. The blend itself is vegan. Common mistake: leaving the stalks on the chillies; they grind into hard, woody bits and dull the colour. Chef's tip: dry the chillies in the sun or in a barely warm pan first, then roast them separately on low until they crackle, so they grind to a fine, bright powder.

30 min

Indian Basics

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PanakamJaggery and ginger water

On Sri Rama Navami, temples and homes across Andhra Pradesh, Telangana and Tamil Nadu set out brass pots of panakam beside neer mor (spiced buttermilk) and kosambari. The drink is offered first, then handed to everyone in small steel tumblers. It is nothing more than jaggery dissolved in water, but the dry ginger and black pepper give it a pleasant heat that cuts through the sweetness, and cardamom and a few tulsi leaves make it smell of the festival. It is never boiled; it's stirred until the jaggery melts. The common mistake is not straining: jaggery often carries sand and fibres, so always pour it through a fine cloth. Chef's tip: a squeeze of lemon is not traditional everywhere, but in hot Vijayawada summers many homes add it, and it brightens the drink wonderfully.

10 min

Indian Drinks

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Vegetarian malatangSpicy numbing hot pot

Malatang began on the streets of Leshan and Chengdu as a cheap pot where everything was boiled together, and today it is a lunchtime habit for students and office workers across China: you fill a basket from fridges of skewers and vegetables, and the cook boils it in a numbing, chilli-red broth and hands it back in a big bowl. This home version makes a fully vegan broth from chilli bean paste, dried chillies and Sichuan pepper, with no beef tallow. Choose about six things: tofu puffs, frozen tofu, enoki, wood ear, potato slices, lotus root, greens and sweet potato noodles are classic. The common mistake is to cook everything for the same time; put dense things in first and leafy things last so nothing turns to mush. Chef's tip: a spoonful of sesame paste stirred into each bowl at the end softens the heat and is how many Chengdu shops serve it.

50 min

Chinese Soups

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Kashmiri ver masalaKashmiri spice cakes

In Srinagar's old city, ver is still made at the end of summer and strung up to dry in kitchens: flat, ring-shaped cakes of ground spices bound with shallot paste and pungent mustard oil, dark red and rock hard. It was a way to store flavour for the long winter, when fresh ingredients were scarce. A piece grated into the pot gives Kashmiri food its typical deep red colour and its warm, sweet-hot fennel and dry ginger flavour, without tomatoes or onions: think dum aloo, nadru yakhni (lotus stem), haak (collard greens), chaman (paneer) and rogan josh. Kashmiri Muslim kitchens often add garlic; Pandit homes may leave the shallots out altogether. Common mistake: drying the cakes in a damp or closed spot; they stay soft inside and grow mould. Chef's tip: heat the mustard oil until it smokes and then cool it before mixing, to take away its raw, sharp bite.

50 min

Indian Basics

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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

Indian Drinks

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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

Indian Drinks

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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

Indian Meat

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Kao leng mian (grilled cold noodle sheets)Griddled noodle sheet wrap

On winter nights outside schools and night markets in Harbin, Heilongjiang, vendors slap thin sheets of pressed cold noodle onto a flat griddle, crack an egg over them, flip, paint them with a sweet-and-hot sauce and fold them around raw onion and coriander. It is a snack from the 1990s that spread across the north-east and now turns up at night markets all over China. The sheet should be chewy with crisp, lacy edges, and the egg should cling to it rather than slide off. The usual mistake is putting the egg on a sheet that is still dry and stiff: sprinkle it with water first so it softens and the egg can grip it. Packets of ready-made kao leng mian sheets are sold in Chinese supermarkets, in the chilled or dried noodle aisle. Chef's tip: keep the heat medium, not high; the sauce has sugar in it and burns long before the egg is set.

15 min

Chinese Snacks & Starters

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Rasam powderRasam spice powder

A spoon of rasam podi, a lime-sized ball of tamarind, a tomato and a ladle of cooked toor dal: that is lunch in countless Tamil homes, from Thanjavur to Tirunelveli, and the podi is what makes one family's rasam taste unlike the neighbour's. This version is peppery and cumin-forward, as rasam should be, with roasted coriander for body and a little toor dal that thickens the broth slightly and gives it a rounded, nutty base. It is meant for clear, thin rasams: tomato rasam, pepper rasam, lemon rasam, and the one you sip as a soup when you have a cold. Make a small batch, since the aroma fades after a couple of months. Common mistake: roasting the coriander seeds until dark brown; they turn bitter and the rasam tastes burnt. Chef's tip: add rasam powder at the end, when the tamarind water is already boiling, and switch off the heat as soon as the rasam froths; boiling it hard kills the pepper aroma.

20 min

Indian Basics

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Kanda lasun masalaOnion and garlic spice blend

Kolhapuri women still make kanda lasun masala once a year, in the hot months, in a day-long session of frying, roasting and pounding, and the jar lasts until the next summer. The masala is a deep brick-red, oily paste-powder that smells of browned onion and garlic and sets your mouth on fire, thanks to plenty of hot chilli powder, traditionally from Sankeshwari or Lavangi chillies, plus milder Kashmiri for colour. A spoon or two transforms misal, kat (the spicy gravy for pav), batata bhaji, anda curry or the famous tambda rassa of mutton. Common mistake: frying the onions only until golden. They must be deep brown and crisp, with no moisture left, or the masala will turn mouldy within weeks. Chef's tip: dry the fried onion and garlic on paper for an hour before grinding, and keep the finished jar in the fridge if your kitchen is humid.

60 min

Indian Basics

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Panch phoronFive-seed spice mix

Every Bengali and Odia kitchen keeps a jar of panch phoron within reach of the stove, because so much of the cooking begins with a teaspoon of it crackling in hot mustard oil. The five seeds, in equal measure, are left whole and never roasted or ground ahead: bitter fenugreek, oniony nigella (kalonji), earthy cumin, sharp black mustard and sweet fennel. Together they give a layered, slightly bittersweet aroma that is the signature of tomato chutney, cholar dal, labra, chorchori and the sweet-sour vegetable dishes of a Bengali lunch. In some traditional homes radhuni, a wild celery seed, replaces the mustard. Common mistake: tempering over a high flame. The fenugreek blackens in seconds and the whole dish tastes bitter. Chef's tip: let the oil heat until it just shimmers, add the panch phoron, and the moment the mustard starts popping and the fenugreek is reddish brown, add the vegetables or dal.

5 min

Indian Basics

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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

Indian Drinks

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Pav bhaji masalaPav bhaji spice blend

The bhaji at a Juhu Beach or Girgaum Chowpatty stall gets its unmistakable taste from a ready-made masala, but a home-roasted blend smells far brighter and lets you choose the heat. Whole coriander, cumin, fennel, cloves, cinnamon, cardamom and star anise are roasted, cooled and ground with Kashmiri chilli for colour, amchur (dry mango powder) for tang, kala namak (black salt) for that eggy, savoury depth, and dry ginger. A good pav bhaji masala is red, sour-salty and aromatic rather than very hot. It is also the quick way to give tawa pulao, masala toast and Bombay sandwiches their street flavour. Common mistake: stirring the masala into a dry, very hot pan; the amchur and chilli powder scorch in seconds. Chef's tip: add the masala once the tomatoes have broken down into the butter, and keep a spoonful back to sprinkle over the bhaji in the last minute for a fresh hit of aroma.

20 min

Indian Basics

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Methia masalaPickle spice mix

In Gujarati homes, methia masala (also called achar masala or sambhar masala in Kathiawad) is mixed each April before the mango pickling begins, and a jar of it lasts the year. It is built on methi kuria and rai kuria, split fenugreek and split mustard seeds sold at every Gujarati grocer, which are bloomed in smoking-hot groundnut oil with hing so they lose their raw bitterness, then mixed with Kashmiri chilli powder, turmeric and salt. That one masala makes instant pickles of carrot, gunda, raw mango or kerda in minutes, is spooned beside khichu, thepla and dhokla and goes into methia keri, the classic Gujarati mango pickle. Common mistake: pouring the oil over the chilli powder while it is smoking hot; the chilli turns black and bitter. Chef's tip: pour the hot oil over the kuria and hing only, wait until it is just warm, and only then stir in the chilli, turmeric and salt.

15 min

Indian Basics

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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

Indian Drinks

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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

Indian Meat

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Vegetarian turnip cake (lo bak go)

Every Cantonese dim sum trolley in Guangzhou and Hong Kong carries lo bak go, and families steam a big tray of it in the week before Chinese New Year, because 'turnip' (really daikon) sounds like good fortune. This version keeps the soft, savoury radish cake and its crisp golden crust but leaves out the usual Chinese sausage and dried shrimp, getting its depth from soaked shiitake and their soaking liquid instead. Serve the slices hot with chilli sauce or hoisin. The most common mistake is slicing the cake while it is warm: it smears and falls apart, so chill it overnight first. Chef's tip: squeeze nothing out of the grated daikon; its juice is the liquid that sets the cake.

110 min

Chinese Snacks & Starters

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Fa gao (prosperity cakes)Steamed rice flour cakes

Fa gao is the little cake on every Cantonese New Year altar in Guangzhou and in Chinatowns from Kuala Lumpur to London: the word 'fa' means both 'rise' and 'prosper', and the deeper the cross-shaped crack on top, the luckier the year. This quick version uses rice flour, a little wheat flour and baking powder, steamed hard so the tops burst open, and it is egg- and dairy-free. The mistake that stops them smiling is a gentle steamer; the water must be at a fierce rolling boil before the cups go in. Chef's tip: fill the cups right to the brim, so the batter has to split as it rises.

35 min

Chinese Baking

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Moo shu pork (mu xu rou)

Mu xu rou began in Shandong and became a Beijing home-cooking staple, a weeknight stir-fry of thin pork strips with fluffy egg, crunchy wood ear and slightly sweet dried lily buds; the name refers to the yellow egg pieces looking like osmanthus blossom. In Beijing it is eaten with rice; Americans know it rolled in thin pancakes with hoisin, and both are good. A little Shaoxing rice wine goes into the pork marinade and evaporates in the hot wok; leave it out for an alcohol-free version. The mistake is overcooking the egg at the start, so it goes rubbery; take it out while still soft. Cook the pork until no pink remains, at least 71 °C. Chef's tip: cut off the hard tips of the lily buds after soaking, or they stay woody.

25 min

Chinese Meat

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Tang cu pai gu (sweet and sour pork ribs)

In Shanghai and nearby Wuxi, these small, dark, lacquered pork ribs come to the table at room temperature as one of the cold starters at a banquet, though at home they are just as good hot with rice. The pork ribs are simmered until tender, fried, then reduced with sugar and Chinkiang black vinegar into a sticky glaze that clings to every piece. A splash of Shaoxing rice wine goes into the simmer; it cooks off completely, and you can use water instead. The mistake is pulling them off the heat while the sauce is still thin; keep reducing until it coats the ribs and bubbles in big, slow bubbles. Pork should reach at least 71 °C, well past that after the long simmer. Chef's tip: add a final dash of vinegar just before serving to bring back its sharp, fresh edge.

70 min

Chinese Meat

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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

Indian Drinks

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Goda masalaMaharashtrian spice blend

Goda means sweet in Marathi, and the word describes not sugar but the warm, rounded fragrance of this masala, which every Pune and Satara household roasts in small batches. It is the soul of Brahmin Maharashtrian cooking: masale bhaat at weddings, a spoonful in amti (tangy toor dal), bharli vangi (stuffed brinjal), and usal for misal. It is dark and aromatic rather than hot, built on coriander, dry coconut (kopra) and sesame, perfumed with cinnamon, cloves and cardamom, and given its earthy, slightly musky depth by dagad phool (stone flower, a lichen), with nagkesar and maratha moggu if you can find them at a Marathi grocer. Common mistake: roasting the coconut and sesame with the hard spices on a high flame; the coconut burns before the coriander is done and the whole batch tastes bitter. Chef's tip: roast each spice in a drop of oil until a shade darker, because that slow roasting is what gives goda masala its colour.

30 min

Indian Basics

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Hong you (Sichuan red chilli oil)

In Chengdu kitchens, a jar of hong you sits next to the stove and goes into almost everything cold: wontons in red oil, cucumber salads, cold noodles and the dressing for liang mian. Good chilli oil is a deep ruby colour, fragrant rather than burnt, with a warm, rounded heat and the tingle of Sichuan pepper. It is poured in two stages, hot then warm, so you get both toasted and bright chilli flavours. The mistake most people make is pouring smoking oil onto the flakes, which turns them black and bitter in a second; check the temperature. Chef's tip: mix coarse and fine chilli flakes, the fine for colour and the coarse for crunch and flavour, and let the oil sit overnight before using.

20 min

Chinese Basics

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Dhana jiruCoriander and cumin powder

Open the masala dabba in any Gujarati kitchen, from Rajkot to Vadodara, and next to the haldi and marchu there will be a compartment of dhana jiru. It is the spice that goes into almost every shaak, dal and kadhi, often alongside red chilli and turmeric in the same pinch-and-throw rhythm. The ratio is roughly four parts coriander to one of cumin, giving a mild, citrusy, earthy powder that thickens and rounds out a dish rather than heating it. Many families buy it ready-ground, but a fresh home batch is so much more fragrant that it changes a plain potato shaak or tuver dal. Surti and Parsi kitchens roast it darker; most Gujarati homes keep it light. Common mistake: over-roasting, which kills the fresh lemony note of the coriander. Chef's tip: roast just until warm and fragrant, grind, then sift; the coriander husks stay in the sieve and the powder comes out soft and fine.

11 min

Indian Basics

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