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Djouzia (walnut and honey nougat)

Shops in old Constantine wrap djouzia in twists of paper and sell it by weight, a soft, pale caramel-coloured nougat of honey, whipped egg white and plenty of walnuts. It is chewier and darker than white Provençal nougat, with a deep honey flavour and the slight bitterness of walnut skins. Djouzia is a gift sweet, carried to weddings and offered with coffee to visitors, and keeps for weeks. A sugar thermometer makes it reliable. Chef's tip: cook the honey syrup to 125 °C; syrup that is pulled off too early is the most common mistake, and the nougat stays sticky and will not set enough to cut.

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Mouna

Oran's mouna came over with Spanish settlers as the Easter mona, and it is still baked for spring outings, recalling the Easter Monday picnics once held at the Santa Cruz chapel above the city. It is a tall, light, golden brioche with a crackly sugar crust, softly flavoured with orange-flower water and lemon zest rather than butter-heavy, and it tears into long, feathery strands. Eat it with coffee or hot chocolate, plain or with jam. The dough is slow and sticky, so give it time. Chef's tip: let the dough rise slowly overnight in the fridge after the first knead; it becomes easier to shape and the flavour deepens.

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Luang Prabang khao lam

Lines of blackened bamboo tubes propped beside smouldering charcoal mark the khao lam sellers on the roads into Luang Prabang, busiest in the cool season after the November harvest, when new-crop sticky rice is at its sweetest. Inside each tube, rice and black beans have cooked slowly in salted coconut milk, picking up a faint smoky, grassy flavour from the bamboo lining. You split the tube, peel back the thin inner skin and eat the dense, chewy, gently sweet log by hand, often on the morning walk or on a bus journey. At home the tubes roast in the oven or over a barbecue, and a lidded dish lined with banana leaf works if you can't get bamboo. Overfilling the tubes is the usual slip: the rice swells, the plug pops and the coconut milk boils away. Chef's tip: soak the rice overnight; well-soaked grains cook evenly right to the centre of the tube.

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Jeow het

Monsoon jeow, this one: once the rains bring mushrooms to every Lao market from July onwards, cooks grill a basket of them over charcoal and pound them with roasted chilli and garlic for a meaty, smoky dip that disappears with sticky rice at dinner. The texture is shaggy rather than smooth, juicy shreds of mushroom held together by a hot, garlicky paste, with fresh herbs stirred through at the end. It is just as good with steamed greens, cucumber and long beans, or spooned over grilled tofu. Oyster and king oyster mushrooms are the closest match to the wild ones. Many people blitz or pound it to a paste and lose the chew, and that's the thing to avoid. Chef's tip: tear the grilled mushrooms into strips by hand before they go into the mortar, then pound only to bruise them.

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Tlitli (Algerian rice-shaped pasta with chicken)

Tlitli is a tiny pasta shaped like grains of rice, once rolled by hand and now sold dried, and in Algiers and Constantine it is cooked for family feasts such as Ennayer, the Amazigh New Year, or the return of a pilgrim. The pasta soaks up a red sauce of chicken, onion, tomato, paprika, cinnamon and chickpeas, and is piled on a platter with the chicken and halved boiled eggs on top. Expect a cosy, gently spiced dish, a bit like a red risotto, with soft pasta and tender chicken. Orzo is a good stand-in if you cannot find tlitli. Chef's tip: toast the pasta in oil before adding sauce; untoasted tlitli tends to clump and turn mushy, a common mistake.

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Trida (steamed pasta squares in chicken sauce)

Making trida is an afternoon's work shared around a Constantine kitchen table, especially before Mawlid or a family celebration: a firm semolina dough is rolled paper-thin, cut into small squares, dried, and then steamed twice over a pot of chicken and chickpea sauce flavoured with cinnamon and a touch of tomato. The squares come out tender with a slight bite, glossy with butter and sauce, and are piled on a platter under the chicken. A pasta machine saves a lot of rolling. Chef's tip: dust the cut squares well with semolina and let them dry for half an hour; damp squares are the usual mistake and stick into a single mass in the steamer.

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Mok het

Wild mushrooms pile up at Luang Prabang's Phosy market as soon as the monsoon soaks the hills, from July into September, and families wrap them up as mok het for the evening meal. Mushrooms are bruised with lemongrass, shallot, chilli and a big handful of dill, bound with beaten egg, then folded into banana leaf and steamed until set, so each parcel opens into a soft, fragrant, slightly wobbly cake. It goes on the shared tray with sticky rice, a bowl of soup and some raw greens. Cultivated oyster, shiitake or chestnut mushrooms work beautifully. A watery filling is the common pitfall: mushrooms leak juice, so salt them and squeeze them first or the egg never sets. Chef's tip: grill the steamed parcels over a flame for a few minutes at the end; the charred leaf adds a lovely smoky edge.

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Sin savanh

Translated loosely as heavenly meat, sin savanh is the sweet beef jerky of Vientiane, sold in glossy dark strips at the morning market and carried home as a snack, a picnic food or a gift for family upcountry. Thin slices of beef are marinated with garlic, coriander root, sugar and fish sauce, coated in sesame and traditionally dried in the dry-season sun, then flash-fried just before eating, so they turn chewy, caramelised and slightly crisp at the edges. Eat it with sticky rice and a tomato jeow, or alone with cold drinks. Here it dries in a low oven until fully cooked and leathery, which is easier and safer than sun-drying. The common mistake is cutting the beef too thick, so the outside goes hard while the middle stays soft. Chef's tip: freeze the beef for 45 minutes before slicing; it firms up and slices thin as card.

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Nam khao

Party food in Vientiane often means a platter of nam khao: golden balls of curry-spiced rice deep-fried until crackling, then smashed and tossed with sour pork, peanuts, shallots, herbs and lime, and scooped into lettuce leaves with a fresh chilli on the side. Evening stalls near the city's markets sell it by the bag, and it's a fixture at weddings and New Year gatherings in April. Traditionally the sour pork is som moo, cured raw fermented pork with shredded skin, which is never cooked; that raw cured version is not for pregnant women, young children or anyone with a weakened immune system. This safer version uses minced pork cooked through and sharpened with lime and garlic, with cooked pork skin for chew if you like. Frying rice balls in oil that isn't hot enough is the usual mistake, as they soak up oil and fall apart. Chef's tip: use rice cooked the day before and chilled; it holds together and fries far crisper.

75 minLaoSaladsGluten free
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Jeow mak phet

Of all the jeows on a Lao table, this is the most basic and most loved, roasted fresh chillies, garlic and shallots pounded together and eaten with sticky rice at almost every meal, from farm lunches in the rice fields to Vientiane office canteens. Made with long green chillies, as here, it is bright, grassy and more fragrant than fierce, with sweetness from the softened shallot; swap some for bird's eye chillies if you want it hotter. Serve it with sticky rice, boiled pumpkin shoots, steamed vegetables, eggs or grilled tofu. Charring the chillies to carbon is the trap, and burnt skins turn the whole jeow bitter. Fish sauce is the usual seasoning; this version uses salt and a little tamari to stay vegetarian. Chef's tip: wear gloves when peeling hot roasted chillies, and keep your hands away from your eyes for the next hour.

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Chorba beida (Algerian white chicken soup)

Unlike the red chorba of the rest of the country, the 'white' chorba of Algiers has no tomato at all: chicken, onion and a cinnamon stick are cooked gently in butter, simmered with chickpeas and fine vermicelli, then thickened at the end with egg yolks and lemon. It is a classic of Ramadan tables in the capital, and is also cooked for guests at weddings and family gatherings. The soup is silky and pale gold, mild and comforting, with a soft lemony tang. Serve it with bread and a squeeze of extra lemon. Chef's tip: once the egg yolks are in, never let the soup boil; boiling is the common mistake that curdles it into scrambled threads.

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Sfiria (cheese croquettes in chicken sauce)

Sfiria belongs to the old bourgeois cooking of Algiers, served on Ramadan evenings and at family celebrations: little croquettes of soaked bread, grated cheese and egg, scented with cinnamon, are fried golden and then laid in a pale chicken and chickpea sauce flavoured with cinnamon and white pepper. The croquettes are light and spongy, soaking up just enough sauce to be juicy, and the dish tastes delicate and faintly sweet. Day-old white bread without crusts gives the best texture. Chef's tip: add the croquettes to the sauce only at the last minute; leaving them to simmer is the common mistake, and they swell, go soggy and fall apart.

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Chbah essafra (almond fritters in lamb sauce)

Cooks in Algiers bring out chbah essafra for weddings and grand family dinners, where it is served as the sweet main course: diamonds of almond paste scented with lemon and cinnamon are dipped in egg, fried golden and laid around tender lamb in a pale, buttery sauce sweetened with sugar and orange-blossom water. The contrast of savoury meat and soft, sweet almond is the point, and the dish is rich, so small portions with bread are usual. Chicken can replace the lamb, with a shorter cooking time. Chef's tip: warm the fritters in the sauce only at the table; dropping them into bubbling sauce is a common mistake, and they fall apart.

130 minAlgerianMeat
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Chakhchoukha (torn flatbread in lamb sauce)

Biskra claims chakhchoukha as its own, though Constantine and the whole east cook it for weddings, Eid and the arrival of guests: sheets of thin rougag are torn into small pieces, softened with steam and soaked in a fiery red sauce of lamb, tomato, chickpeas and whole green chillies, then served from one big wooden or clay dish. The bread turns soft and silky, almost like pasta, and soaks up the peppery, deeply savoury sauce. Use homemade rougag or the dried sheets sold in Algerian shops. Chef's tip: moisten the bread with sauce a ladle at a time and toss between additions; pouring it all over at once is the usual mistake, and the bread turns to paste.

120 minAlgerianMeatSpicy
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Lao bamboo shoot soup

When the rains arrive in June, Vientiane's morning markets fill with pale, freshly dug bamboo shoots, and pots of kaeng nor mai start simmering in kitchens across the city for the family lunch. The broth is a deep olive green, tinted by the juice squeezed from yanang leaves, and thickened with a spoonful of pounded soaked sticky rice so it coats the spoon. Earthy bamboo, sweet pumpkin and slippery mushrooms float in it with lemon basil on top, and a basket of sticky rice and a dish of jeow sit alongside. Skipping the pre-boil of the bamboo is where most cooks go wrong: raw shoots taste bitter and need cooking through to be safe, so always blanch fresh ones and drain. This version leaves out the fermented fish of village kitchens and seasons with salt and tamari. Chef's tip: squeeze the yanang leaves in cold water, never hot, or the broth turns brown and loses its grassy freshness.

60 minLaoSoupsVeganGluten free
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Jeow mak keua

Long purple aubergines laid straight on the embers turn into one of the softest dips on a Lao dinner tray, eaten up and down the country in the hot season when aubergines are cheap and plentiful. The skins blacken and the flesh collapses into a smoky, silky pulp, which is pounded loosely with charred garlic, shallot and green chilli until it is spoonable but still a little stringy. Pinch a ball of sticky rice, press a hollow in it and scoop up the jeow, or dip in cucumber, long beans and cabbage. Families often add fish sauce; here it is seasoned with salt and a little tamari so it suits vegetarians. Rinsing the charred aubergine under the tap is a mistake, as it washes away the very smoke you worked for. Chef's tip: peel with damp fingertips and leave a few flecks of black skin in the dip.

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Jeow som

Grilled food in Laos rarely leaves the stall without a little bag of jeow som, the thin, sour-sweet sauce that every street grill from Vientiane's riverside to small-town bus stations ladles out beside the skewers. Unlike the pounded jeows, it is pourable: lime juice, garlic and raw chilli in a light, sweet-salty syrup, sharp enough to cut through anything charred. Dip grilled tofu, corn, aubergine or sticky rice into it, or spoon it over a plate of steamed vegetables. Stall versions lean on fish sauce; salt and tamari keep this one vegetarian. Tipping granulated sugar straight into cold lime juice is the usual fault, since it never fully dissolves and the sauce tastes gritty and unbalanced. Chef's tip: let the sauce sit for 15 minutes before serving so the garlic and chilli mellow into the lime.

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Lao fish soup with dill

Restaurants on stilts over the Mekong at Pakse, where the Xe Don river joins it, serve tom pa at lunch in big communal bowls, and southern Lao families make it at home whenever the market has fresh river fish. Chunks of fish poach gently in a clear broth fragrant with lemongrass, galangal and lime leaf, soured with tomato and lime and finished with a generous fistful of dill, an herb Lao cooks use far more than their neighbours. The result is light, tangy and aromatic, with soft fish and a whisper of chilli heat; spoon it over sticky rice or sip it between mouthfuls of jeow. Boiling hard once the fish goes in is the mistake to watch, as the pieces break up and the broth turns cloudy. Chef's tip: add the dill only when the pot is off the heat, so it stays green and sweet.

30 minLaoSoupsGluten free
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Koy pa

Fishing villages on the Mekong in Champasak, down towards the islands of Si Phan Don, make koy pa from the morning catch and eat it with sticky rice under the stilt houses at lunchtime. It is a fierce, fresh salad: finely chopped fish tossed with lime, roasted chilli, shallot, galangal and toasted rice powder, then buried in mint, dill and sawtooth herb. Traditionally the fish is raw and only 'cooked' by lime, and raw river fish in the region can carry parasites; that raw version is not for pregnant women, young children or anyone with a weakened immune system. Here the fish is poached until opaque and flaking, then chopped, keeping the texture and punch. Stirring the rice powder into hot fish is the mistake that ruins it, turning the salad gluey. Chef's tip: toast your own rice powder with a lemongrass stalk and lime leaf; the shop-bought kind has nothing like the same nutty perfume.

35 minLaoSaladsGluten freeSpicy
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Luang Prabang salad

Clear spring-fed beds outside Luang Prabang grow some of the crispest watercress in Laos, and the old royal capital turned it into a salad that shows its French years: peppery cress, tomato and cucumber under a smooth dressing made from mashed hard-boiled yolks. Cafés along the Nam Khan serve it at lunch in the cool season, from November to February, often as the light plate beside grilled river fish or a bowl of sticky rice. It tastes fresh, gently sweet and garlicky, with crunch from fried garlic and peanuts on top. Restaurants sometimes add fish sauce or pork; this version is vegetarian and seasoned with salt. Dressing the cress too early is the mistake to avoid, because it wilts into a soggy heap in minutes. Chef's tip: dry the watercress properly in a salad spinner, or the dressing slides off instead of clinging.

30 minLaoSaladsGluten free
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Khai paen

Along the Mekong and Nam Khan below Luang Prabang, women gather silky green river weed in the dry months, when the water runs low and clear, then press it into thin sheets and dry them in the sun. Those sheets turn up everywhere in town, stacked at the morning market and the night market, and a plate of fried khai paen is a favourite nibble with sticky rice and a pot of jeow bong in the late afternoon. Frying takes seconds: the sheets puff, darken and turn shatteringly crisp, tasting of the river, toasted sesame and garlic, a little like nori but earthier. Buy the sheets dried; outside Laos, look in Southeast Asian grocers, and if you can't find them, nori sheets make a stand-in, though they are thinner, sea-salty rather than freshwater and fry even faster. Leaving a sheet in the oil a moment too long is the classic error, as it goes bitter and brown almost instantly. Chef's tip: cut the sheets into squares with scissors before frying, not after, so they don't crumble into dust.

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Lao iced coffee

High on the Bolaven Plateau above Pakse, the coffee towns around Paksong grow most of Laos's beans, and roadside stalls there brew them dark and strong through a long cloth sock, all day long. Ordered cold, it arrives as a glass of ice with a thick layer of sweetened condensed milk at the bottom, the black coffee poured over and stirred to a caramel brown, often with a free cup of weak tea to sip afterwards. It is bitter-sweet, chocolatey and much richer than a café latte, made for hot afternoons on the plateau or a morning stop in Pakse. A French press or a fine sieve lined with a paper filter stands in for the cloth sock. Pouring hot coffee straight onto ice before adding the milk is where it goes flat: the condensed milk won't dissolve in cold coffee and sinks in a gluey lump. Chef's tip: stir the condensed milk into the hot coffee first, then pour over the ice.

10 minLaoDrinksGluten free
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Djelbana (Algerian lamb and pea stew)

Spring markets in Algiers fill with sacks of fresh peas and violet artichokes, and that is the moment for djelbana, a light, pale stew of lamb, peas, artichoke hearts and potatoes cooked with onion, garlic and a little turmeric, finished with fresh coriander. Families serve it at lunch with plenty of bread to soak up the sauce; on meat-free days it is made the same way without the lamb. It tastes fresh, sweet and gently peppery rather than heavily spiced. Frozen peas and artichoke hearts are fine out of season. Chef's tip: add the peas only for the last 10 minutes; peas put in with the meat are the usual mistake and turn grey and mushy.

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Halwat tabaa (stamped jam biscuits)

Ask anyone who grew up in Algeria about the night before Eid and they will mention the smell of halwat tabaa baking: buttery shortbread cut and printed with a patterned metal stamp, then sandwiched in pairs with apricot jam. Children love helping to press the patterns, and the biscuits fill the tins offered to neighbours on the morning of the feast. They are tender and short, with a clean vanilla flavour against the tangy jam, and keep well for a week. A fluted round cutter and the tines of a fork will do if you have no stamp. Avoid working the dough too much or letting it get warm, as the stamped pattern then spreads and blurs in the oven. Chef's tip: dip the stamp in flour and tap off the excess before every press; a sticky stamp blurs the pattern, which is the most common disappointment.

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