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Qodban

Smoke rising off long braziers marks the qodban sellers of Marrakech, who thread lamb cubes with little pieces of fat so the meat bastes itself over the coals. Cumin, paprika, grated onion and parsley go on before grilling; more cumin and salt go on after. The result is charred and juicy, fragrant rather than fiery, and eaten straight off the skewer, wrapped in khobz with a little harissa and tomato. Leg or shoulder of lamb both work. Chef's tip: alternate every two pieces of lean meat with one small piece of fat; it melts as the skewer turns and keeps the lean pieces moist.

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Eggs with khlii

Old Fassi households keep a jar of khlii in the cold for exactly this: a spoonful of its spiced fat warmed in a small pan, a few strands of the dried beef crisped in it, then eggs cracked straight on top. The whites set lacy and savoury from the cumin and coriander in the fat, the yolks stay soft, and the beef shards turn chewy-crisp like the best bacon bits. It is eaten on a weekend morning or on a cold day with warm khobz or msemen torn into the pan, alongside mint tea. Use khlii made by our safer oven-dried, fridge-stored method, and if you cook for anyone pregnant, very young or vulnerable, fry the eggs until the yolks are firm. Chef's tip: warm the khlii fat gently before the eggs go in; too hot and the meat burns bitter before the whites have set.

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Lemon verbena tea (louiza)

After a big dinner or before bed, many Moroccan households swap green mint tea for a pot of louiza, lemon verbena, whose long, narrow leaves give a pale golden infusion that smells of lemon sherbet and has no caffeine. The fresh herb is sold in bunches alongside mint and absinthe at market herb stalls, and dried leaves keep all year. Drink it plain, lightly sweetened, or brewed with a few mint sprigs. It is soothing, clean-tasting and fragrant. Chef's tip: pour boiling water over the leaves and let them steep off the heat for 5 minutes; boiling the leaves in the pot, a common mistake, turns the tea grassy and bitter.

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Chermoula

Along the Atlantic coast, in the fish stalls by Essaouira harbour and in home kitchens up and down the coast, chermoula is the green, garlicky paste that seasons almost everything from the sea: whole fish for the oven, sardines for the grill and fish tagines with potatoes and peppers. It works just as well on vegetables: toss it with potatoes, aubergine or carrots before roasting, spoon it over chickpeas, or stir it into a vegetable tagine. Bright, herby and tangy, it is warm with cumin and paprika and has a little chilli heat. When you use it on fish, marinate in the fridge, never on the counter, and for no more than 2 hours, or the lemon starts to cook the flesh and turns it mushy. Chef's tip: chop by hand or pulse only briefly; blended to a smooth purée, the herbs bruise and taste grassy.

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Berber omelette

Roadside cafés on the mountain passes of the High Atlas keep small clay tagines warming over charcoal, and the one most travellers order for breakfast or a quick lunch is the Berber omelette: eggs cracked over a bubbling base of tomato, onion, cumin and paprika, then covered until they just set. It arrives sizzling with olives and herbs on top and plenty of bread to wipe the dish clean, usually with a glass of mint tea. At home you can use a small tagine on a heat diffuser or a lidded frying pan. For anyone pregnant, very young, older or with a weak immune system, cook until the yolks are firm. Chef's tip: never put a clay tagine straight onto a high flame; use a diffuser and medium-low heat, or it can crack.

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Nous-nous (half-half coffee)

Sit down at a café terrace in Casablanca, Rabat or Marrakech and order a 'nous-nous' (from 'nus', half) and you will get a small glass of half espresso, half steamed milk, often layered so the coffee floats in a dark band over the pale milk with a cap of foam. It is the default morning and afternoon coffee for many Moroccans, sipped slowly while watching the street, usually with a sugar lump or two on the saucer. It is smaller and stronger than a latte and milkier than a macchiato. A moka pot works fine at home if you have no espresso machine. Chef's tip: heat the milk only to 60–65 °C, hot to the touch but not scalding; boiled milk loses its sweetness and the foam collapses, a common mistake.

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Steirischer Käferbohnensalat

In the hills of south-east Styria, fat purple-speckled runner beans called Käferbohnen, 'beetle beans', are dried every autumn and turned into this simple salad. It is a fixture of the Buschenschank, the farm wine taverns where you sit outdoors with a board of bread, cheese and spreads. The beans are soft and creamy, the red onion and cider vinegar sharp, and the dark green pumpkin seed oil gives a deep, toasty, nutty flavour. A common mistake is dressing cold beans straight from the fridge; dress them lukewarm so they soak up the vinegar. Chef's tip: add the pumpkin seed oil last and do not heat it; it turns bitter when warm.

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Steirische Kernöl-Eierspeis

Eierspeis is the Austrian word for scrambled eggs, and in Styria they get a final drizzle of the region's dark green pumpkin seed oil. It is a farmhouse breakfast or a late-night snack after a long evening in a Graz wine bar, eaten straight from the small pan it was cooked in with a slice of rye bread. The eggs are soft and creamy in big folds, and the oil adds a toasted, nutty depth that tastes almost like brown butter. A common mistake is stirring too fast on a high heat, which gives small dry crumbs instead of soft curds. Chef's tip: salt the eggs a few minutes before cooking; it helps them set more tenderly.

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Eiernockerl

Eiernockerl is what Viennese grandmothers cook when the larder is nearly bare: a loose flour batter is scraped in little nubs into boiling water, then tossed in foaming butter and set with beaten eggs. In Vienna it turns up on weekday lunch tables and in old-fashioned Beisln, usually with a green salad in a sharp vinegar dressing on the side. The nockerl should be soft and slightly chewy, the egg just set and glossy, with lots of chives. A common mistake is cooking the eggs until dry and grainy; take the pan off the heat while they still look a little wet. Chef's tip: let the batter rest for 10 minutes before you cut it into the water, so the flour swells and the nockerl hold their shape.

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Moroccan spiced coffee

In many Moroccan homes, coffee is bought ready-mixed from the roaster with a spoonful of 'attria', a warm blend of ground spices such as cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, cardamom, black pepper and toasted sesame, that gives it a rounded, gently peppery aroma. It is brewed in a pan or a pot and sipped black and sweet, or with a splash of milk, after lunch, with pastries for guests, or on cold mornings. The spices soften the bitterness and make the whole kitchen smell wonderful. This home version mixes the spices into ordinary ground coffee. Chef's tip: keep the coffee at a bare simmer and never let it boil hard; vigorous boiling, the usual mistake, extracts bitterness from both coffee and spices.

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Ras el hanout

Ras el hanout means 'head of the shop', and every spice seller in the Marrakech souk will tell you theirs is the best: a warm, complex mix of a dozen or more spices that they grind to their own formula. This home version balances earthy cumin and coriander with sweet cinnamon, ginger and turmeric, the perfume of cardamom and dried rosebuds, and the heat of black pepper. Rub it on vegetables before roasting, stir a teaspoon into tagines, lentils or couscous broth, or season chickpeas and roast pumpkin with it. Toasting the whole spices first takes 5 minutes and makes a real difference. Chef's tip: make small batches and store the blend in a sealed jar away from light; it is at its best for about 3 months.

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Panaché (Moroccan mixed fruit milkshake)

Juice bars from Tangier to Agadir list a 'panaché' on the board, which in Morocco means a thick milkshake blended from whatever mix of fruit is in season, most often banana, apple, avocado and orange, served in a tall glass and sometimes topped with chopped dried fruit and nuts. Avocado is used as a sweet fruit here, and it makes the drink extra creamy. It is a favourite after school, as a quick breakfast or after an afternoon in the medina. Make it just before drinking: the orange juice can make the milk turn slightly grainy and the avocado darkens if it stands, which is the usual mistake. Chef's tip: use a ripe, soft avocado and a banana with brown freckles for natural sweetness, so you need very little sugar.

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Liptauer

No Heuriger, the wine tavern on the vineyard slopes at the edge of Vienna, is complete without a bowl of rust-red Liptauer next to the bread basket. Quark and soft butter are beaten with sweet paprika, ground caraway, mustard, onion and capers into a spread that is creamy, tangy and gently warm. Spread it thick on dark rye bread with radishes and chives, or pipe it onto halved peppers for a snack board. A common mistake is using wet quark straight from the tub, which makes the spread runny; drain it in a sieve first. Most quark is set without rennet, but some brands use a little animal rennet, so pick one labelled vegetarian. Chef's tip: make it a few hours ahead; the paprika colour deepens and the caraway softens as it sits.

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Saykouk (couscous in cold buttermilk)

On hot evenings in the villages of the Middle and High Atlas, supper is often nothing more than saykouk: steamed couscous, usually barley, cooled and then drowned in ice-cold lben, the tangy buttermilk left after churning butter. It is eaten with spoons from a big shared bowl and is wonderfully cooling, sour and creamy, with the grains soaking up the milk as you eat. Some families sweeten it with a little sugar, others keep it salty; both are right. This quick version uses instant couscous so it is ready in about 20 minutes. Don't pour the buttermilk over warm couscous: it should be fully cool, or the buttermilk splits and the dish loses its refreshing chill. Chef's tip: let the couscous cool completely before the buttermilk goes in, or it turns the buttermilk warm and slightly grainy.

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Moroccan almond milk (sharbat louz)

At Moroccan weddings and engagement parties, silver trays of tall glasses filled with sharbat louz are passed among the guests: chilled milk blended smooth with blanched almonds, sugar and a perfume of orange-flower water. It is also a favourite summer drink at home and is often offered to break the fast in Ramadan. The taste is creamy, delicate and nutty, a world away from carton almond milk, since it is real dairy milk enriched with almonds. Serve it very cold, on its own or with sweets. A common mistake is skipping the straining, which leaves a gritty drink instead of a smooth, silky one. Chef's tip: blend the almonds with the sugar and a little milk first, into a fine paste, before adding the rest; that way it ends up silky rather than gritty. Not for anyone with a nut allergy.

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Moroccan carrot salad (shlada khizzou)

Shlada khizzou is the bright orange dish on the salad spread of every Moroccan restaurant and home lunch, from Marrakech riads to roadside grills on the way to the coast. Carrots are blanched until just tender, then dressed while warm with garlic, cumin, a little sugar and lemon, so they drink in the flavour. Some families add a few drops of orange blossom water, which makes it taste of a Moroccan garden. Serve it with tagines, couscous or simply with bread. Chef's tip: dress the carrots while they are still warm; cold carrots stay bland on the outside.

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Moroccan mint tea (atay)

Atay is Morocco's gesture of welcome, poured for guests in homes from Tangier to the Sahara, in shops while you bargain and after every meal. Chinese gunpowder green tea is rinsed, brewed with a big bunch of fresh spearmint and sweetened in the pot, then poured from high above the glasses so it froths. The host often pours a glass and returns it to the pot several times to mix the sugar through. The result is sweet, fresh and pleasantly bitter. Chef's tip: rinse the tea leaves with a splash of boiling water and throw that water away first; it removes the dust and the harshest bitterness.

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Harcha

Harcha are thick little semolina breads cooked on a griddle and eaten all over Morocco at breakfast and with mid-afternoon tea, especially during Ramadan for the evening meal. The dough is closer to a crumbly batter than a bread dough, so it needs no kneading or rising; it is pressed into rounds and cooked slowly until the outside turns golden and gritty and the inside stays tender, a bit like a savoury shortbread. Split them while warm and spread with butter and honey, apricot jam or a wedge of soft cheese. Chef's tip: let the mixed dough rest for 5 minutes; the semolina drinks up the milk and becomes much easier to shape.

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Orange salad with cinnamon

After a heavy tagine or couscous, Moroccan families in the orange-growing Souss valley and around Marrakech often skip pastries and bring out a plate of sliced oranges instead, splashed with orange blossom water and dusted with cinnamon. It is the simplest dessert there is, but when the oranges are cold and juicy it tastes like a perfume of spice and flowers. Scatter over toasted almonds or chopped dates to make it more filling. Chef's tip: cut off every bit of white pith; even a thin ring of it makes the slices bitter.

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