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Chuño

On the Altiplano around Lake Titicaca, in June and July when the nights drop to -10 °C and the days are bright and dry, Aymara and Quechua families spread small, bitter potatoes on the grass to make chuño, a technique far older than the Inca. The potatoes freeze at night and thaw in the sun for several days, then are trodden barefoot to squeeze out the water and rub off the skins, and dried for a couple of weeks more. The result is light, wrinkled, grey-black chuño negro that keeps for years; soaked in running stream water instead, the same potatoes become white tunta. Rehydrated and boiled, chuño is firm, slightly chewy and spongy, with an earthy, faintly mineral, almost fermented taste; it goes into chairo soup, into chuño phuti, or beside grilled meat with spicy llajwa. Skipping the long soak is the big mistake: it stays bitter and gritty, so soak it for at least 12 hours, changing the water. Dried chuño is ready when it is rock hard, very light and rattles in a bag. Chef's tip: without Andean frosts, a freezer and a low oven make a fair version; the method is below.

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Chanka de polloChicken soup with broad beans

Every Cochabamba market has a corner where chanka de pollo bubbles in huge pots: a clear, herby chicken broth full of broad beans, potatoes and spring onion, with a whole joint of chicken in each bowl and chuño or a boiled potato on the side. It is fresh and grassy rather than rich, sharpened with a little locoto. Many people let it boil hard, which clouds the broth. Chef's tip: add the herbs and spring onion right at the end so they stay bright green.

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Pizza cubanaThick street pizza

Havana's own pizza is nothing like a crisp Neapolitan one. Sold from house windows and tiny cafeterías along Calle 23 in Vedado and around the University of Havana, it is a thick, soft, bready round about the size of a side plate, spread with a sweetish tomato sauce and smothered in mild melted cheese right to the edge. Students fold it in half and eat it on a square of paper for lunch or a late snack. Cuban vendors use a local gouda-style cheese; traditional cheeses of this type may be made with animal rennet, so choose one labelled vegetarian (microbial rennet). Chef's tip: bake it in small oiled tins or a frying pan with an ovenproof handle, so the base fries a little in the oil and turns golden.

90 minCubanPizza
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Ají de fideosNoodles in red chilli with beef

Ají de fideos fills the market comedores of La Paz at lunchtime: spaghetti snapped into short pieces and simmered in a brick-red sauce of dried chilli, onion and tomato with chunks of beef and potato, all eaten with a spoon. It is warming, a little smoky and properly hot, perfect at 3,600 metres. The trap is adding the pasta too early, which leaves it bloated and the sauce gluey. Chef's tip: toast the broken spaghetti in a little oil until golden before it goes into the pot; it keeps its shape and adds a nutty flavour.

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Arroz con queso cruceñoCreamy baked cheese rice

Lunch tables in Santa Cruz and Beni regularly carry a dish of arroz con queso next to the grilled meat: rice cooked soft and stirred with milk, butter and plenty of crumbled lowland cheese, then baked until the top turns golden. Cruceño cooks serve it with fried plantain and a tomato salad. Local cheese is usually made with animal rennet, so use a vegetarian mild Cheddar or a feta-style cheese if you need one. The most common mistake is draining the rice; it needs its starch to turn creamy. Chef's tip: hold back a third of the cheese and scatter it on top just before baking, so you get a melted core and a browned crust.

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Caldo de bolas de verdeBeef broth with plantain dumplings

Caldo de bolas is the big Sunday soup of Guayaquil and the Guayas coast: a clear beef broth with corn and cassava in which float fist-sized dumplings of green plantain, each stuffed with a savoury filling of beef mince, egg, peas and peanuts. It takes time, so families make it for gatherings and serve it with lime, chilli and rice. Peanuts are an allergen and optional here. The usual mistake is a plantain dough that is too dry, which cracks and falls apart in the broth; it should feel like soft play dough. Cook the mince filling until no pink remains. Chef's tip: mix boiled and raw grated plantain; the raw starch is the glue that holds the bolas together.

160 minAndeanSoupsGluten free
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Maní tostadoRoasted peanuts

Walk along the Malecón or through Parque Central in Havana at dusk and you will hear the manisero before you see him, calling out "¡Maní!" with a basket of warm peanuts rolled into little paper cones. They are the snack for an evening stroll by the sea wall and for long nights in the stands at the Estadio Latinoamericano. Some vendors sell them simply salted, others glazed in a crunchy coat of sugar, so this recipe gives both. The nuts are toasty and crisp with papery skins that flake off as you eat. They contain peanuts, and whole nuts are a choking risk for children under five. Chef's tip: take the tray out when the nuts look a shade too pale; they keep colouring for a few minutes as they cool.

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Pan con minutaFried fish sandwich

Minuta is what Cubans call a quick-fried fish fillet, cooked "in a minute" while you wait, and in a soft roll it becomes one of Havana's simplest street lunches. Look for it at kiosks along the Malecón near La Punta and in the fishing village of Cojímar, east of the city, where small boats bring in snapper. The fish is marinated briefly in lime and garlic, dipped in a light batter and fried until the crust crackles, then tucked into bread with sharp raw onion and another squeeze of lime. Chef's tip: keep the lime marinade short; after 15 minutes the acid starts to turn the fish chalky.

30 minCubanFish
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Durofrío de mangoFrozen mango milk pops

In the hot streets of Centro Habana, durofríos are sold straight from the front windows of family homes: a few pesos buys a frozen cup of fruit juice or fruit and milk, popped out and eaten on a stick or straight from its paper cup. Children queue for them after school in the long summer afternoons, when the sea breeze has dropped. This version blends ripe mango with milk and lime into a creamy, fruity ice that is firm, as the name says ("hard-cold"), rather than soft like ice cream. Swap the milk for water or guava juice for a dairy-free fruit ice. It contains milk. Chef's tip: make the mix taste a little too sweet before freezing; cold dulls sweetness.

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Ají de arvejasPeas and potatoes in chilli sauce

Ají de arvejas is a homely Bolivian stew from La Paz and Cochabamba, cooked for weekday lunch or on Fridays and in Lent, when many families eat no meat. Green peas and potatoes simmer in a golden sauce of onion, tomato and ají amarillo (yellow chilli), and cubes of fresh white cheese are stirred in at the end so they soften without melting away. It is served with plain white rice and sometimes a boiled egg. Bolivian queso fresco is often made with animal rennet; for vegetarians, use a paneer or a fresh cheese labelled vegetarian. The usual mistake is boiling the cheese, which turns it rubbery. Chef's tip: cook the ají paste with the onion until it darkens slightly, which takes the raw edge off the chilli.

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Ají de papalisaUlluco in yellow chilli

Papalisa, the glossy pink-and-yellow tuber called ulluco in Peru, has a crisp, slightly slippery bite that holds up beautifully in this ají from the La Paz highlands. The tubers are cut into fine sticks and stewed with onion, tomato and yellow chilli until tender, then served with white rice and a boiled potato. Highland cooks often add shredded dried beef; this vegan version keeps all the flavour with extra onion and cumin. Look for papalisa fresh or in jars in Latin American shops; waxy new potatoes cut the same way are a fair stand-in. The mistake most people make is skipping the soaking and rinsing, which leaves the sauce gummy. Chef's tip: cut the papalisa into matchsticks as thin as you can, so they soak up the chilli sauce like noodles.

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Ají de tomate de árbolTamarillo chilli sauce

No Ecuadorian table in the Sierra, from Quito to Cuenca, is complete without a small bowl of ají, and the tamarillo version is the household favourite. Tomate de árbol, the egg-shaped, wine-red tree tomato, is blanched and peeled, blended with fresh hot chilli, salt and a little water, then finished with finely chopped onion and fresh coriander. It is spooned over locro de papa, llapingachos, empanadas de viento, hornado and fritada at the long Sunday family lunch, and onto everything at the street stalls of the Saturday markets. The flavour is tangy, fruity and slightly bitter-sweet, more sour than a tomato salsa, with a fresh bite of onion and a clean chilli heat. The common mistake is blending the tamarillos with their skins on, which makes the sauce bitter; blanch them until the skins split and slip off. It is ready when it is bright orange-red, loose and juicy, and the onion is still crisp. Abroad, tamarillos turn up in larger supermarkets; ripe plum tomatoes with the pulp of a passion fruit are the best stand-in. Chef's tip: rinse the chopped onion in salted water first, which tames its sharpness, as Ecuadorians do.

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CortaditoEspresso with steamed milk

Havana runs on small cups of coffee: a cafecito standing at a ventanita, a colada shared in tiny plastic cups at work, and in the afternoon or with breakfast, a cortadito, which is Cuban coffee cut (cortado) with roughly as much hot milk. The coffee is brewed in a stovetop cafetera, and the first dark drops are whipped hard with sugar into a pale, thick espumita that floats on top of the cup. The result is rich, very sweet and caramel-like, with a velvety milk body and a strong, bitter edge underneath. It is high in caffeine, so it is not one for children. The common mistake is adding sugar to the pot or stirring it in at the end; without the espumita you get a thin, flat drink. Beat the first concentrated coffee with the sugar until it turns light tan and holds soft folds, then pour in the rest. It is ready when a pale foam floats on the cup and the milk has been heated until steaming, with small bubbles around the edge but not boiling. Chef's tip: catch only the first 2–3 teaspoons of coffee for the foam; later coffee is too thin to whip.

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AyampacoLeaf-steamed chicken and palm heart

From Macas and the Shuar communities of Morona Santiago comes ayampaco: chicken with palm heart, garlic, culantro and spring onion wrapped in bijao leaves and cooked over the fire, so everything steams together into a fragrant, juicy bundle. It is a celebration dish at festivals and family gatherings, served with boiled cassava and a sharp chilli sauce. Banana leaves stand in for bijao at home. The usual mistake is packing the parcels too full, so the middle stays undercooked; keep them flat and check the chicken reaches 74 °C. Chef's tip: let the chicken marinate in the fridge for at least 30 minutes so the garlic and herbs flavour it right through.

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Batido de trigoPuffed wheat shake

Havana cafeterías and Miami ventanitas blend this for breakfast on the run: puffed wheat, cold milk, sugar and ice whizzed into a thick, frothy shake that tastes like a malted milk with toasted cereal. It is one of the most loved Cuban batidos, and quick to make at home. The common mistake is using sweetened, honey-coated cereal, which makes it cloying; plain puffed wheat lets the toasty grain flavour come through. Chef's tip: blend the puffed wheat with half the milk first until completely smooth, then add the ice, so you don't get soggy flecks of cereal.

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Harina de maíz dulceSweet cornmeal porridge

In Cuban homes "harina" means cornmeal, and harina dulce is the soft, sweet porridge that grandmothers in Havana and Santiago cooked for children before school, scented with cinnamon and a curl of lime peel the way rice pudding is. It should be smooth and spoonable, like a loose polenta. The usual mistake is pouring the cornmeal into boiling milk, which seizes into lumps at once: start it in cold liquid and whisk as it heats. Chef's tip: take the lime peel out once the porridge thickens, or its oils turn bitter as it sits.

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Pan con lechónRoast pork sandwich

Cuba's great feast is a whole roast pig for Noche Buena on Christmas Eve, and the next best thing is pan con lechón: slices of juicy roast pork stuffed into soft Cuban bread with onions and plenty of mojo. In Havana it is sold from cafeterías and street windows in Centro Habana and along Calle Obispo, especially at weekends, and it is a favourite lunch or late-afternoon bite. This home version uses a boneless pork shoulder marinated overnight in sour orange, garlic, cumin and oregano and roasted until it falls apart, with crackly edges. Chef's tip: keep a few spoons of fresh mojo aside before the raw pork goes in, so you have a clean sauce to spoon over the sandwiches.

240 minCubanMeat
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Batido de mameyMamey milkshake

In Havana and all over the island, the cafeteria counter has a blender that never stops, turning out batidos of mango, guanábana, papaya and the favourite of all, mamey. The fruit has a rough brown skin and a soft, salmon-red flesh that tastes like sweet potato, pumpkin pie, almond and apricot at once, and blended with cold milk it makes a shake so thick it is almost a dessert. It is drunk mid-afternoon on hot days, at breakfast with toast, or at a kid's birthday party; Miami's Cuban cafés keep the tradition alive with frozen pulp. The common mistake is using a hard mamey, which tastes starchy and slightly bitter; the fruit must give like a ripe avocado when pressed and show deep red flesh when you scratch the skin with a fingernail. The batido is ready when it is smooth, pumpkin-orange and pours slowly in a thick ribbon. Frozen mamey pulp from Latin American shops is a good substitute; reduce the ice because the pulp is already cold. Chef's tip: a pinch of salt and a drop of vanilla bring out mamey's almond notes.

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Daiquiri

The daiquirí is named after a beach and the old iron mines east of Santiago de Cuba, where engineers and miners at the turn of the twentieth century mixed the local white rum with lime and sugar to cut the heat. Later Havana's bars turned it into a frozen blended drink, but in eastern Cuba it is still drunk the plain way, shaken, in the late afternoon or before a dinner of congrí and roast pork. It is a cocktail for adults only, short and clean: tart lime, a light touch of sugar and the soft, dry vanilla notes of light rum, served so cold it almost stings. The common mistake is a lazy shake, which leaves the drink warm, harsh and too strong. Fill the shaker with ice and shake hard for a full 12–15 seconds. It is ready when the tin is too cold to hold, there are tiny shards of ice on the surface and the drink has a fine foam at the rim. Have one and drink responsibly. Balance matters more than amounts: taste your limes, and add a little more syrup if they are very sour. Chef's tip: chill the coupe in the freezer first; a daiquirí loses its magic within minutes in a warm glass.

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Café con lecheCoffee with hot milk

Every morning from Havana to Miami's Little Havana, breakfast is a big cup of café con leche with a length of buttered, pressed Cuban bread (tostada) to dunk in it. A moka pot of dark espresso-style coffee is whipped with sugar into a pale foam, the espumita, and poured into a mug of hot, lightly salted milk. The usual mistake is boiling the milk, which gives it a skin and a cooked taste; heat it only until it steams. Coffee contains caffeine, so this is a grown-up drink; children traditionally get a cup that is mostly milk. Chef's tip: whisk the first few drops of coffee hard with the sugar to a thick paste before adding the rest; that is what makes the creamy espumita on top.

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Prú orientalSpiced root drink

In Santiago de Cuba, Guantánamo and Baracoa, prú is sold from plastic bottles at the kitchen door and poured at every birthday, often next to a slab of cake. The recipe came from Haitian and French-Caribbean coffee planters who settled in the east, and families still keep a "madre", a starter jar from the last batch. Roots of raíz de China and bejuco ubí are boiled with pine, cinnamon and allspice, sweetened and left to ferment for a few days. It tastes like a wild, earthy root beer: woody, spiced, a little bitter, with a soft prickle. Fermentation makes a trace of alcohol, well under 1% if drunk young. Outside Cuba use dried sarsaparilla root, a close relative of China root. The common mistake is sealing bottles too early and leaving them warm, which builds dangerous pressure; use a plastic test bottle and chill once it is firm. It is ready when tiny bubbles rise and it smells sweet-sour, not yeasty. Throw it out if it grows fuzzy mould, turns slimy or smells rotten. Pregnant people should skip the pine needles, and anyone on medication should check with a doctor about herbal roots. Chef's tip: keep 250 ml back as the madre for your next batch.

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CancháncharaAguardiente, lime and honey cocktail

In the colonial town of Trinidad, in Sancti Spíritus province, the canchánchara is served in little clay cups to the sound of a son band in the late afternoon. Its roots are in the independence wars of the 1860s and 70s, when the mambí fighters drank cane aguardiente mixed with honey, lime and water, warm or at camp temperature. Today it comes with crushed ice, but it is still a drink for adults only, rustic and honest: floral honey, sharp lime and the raw, sugary heat of young cane spirit, cold and only slightly diluted. The classic mistake is pouring honey straight onto the ice, where it sets into a hard lump at the bottom and the drink tastes of nothing but sour spirit. Stir the honey into the lime and water first until no streaks remain, then add the ice and spirit. It is ready when the honey has disappeared into a cloudy, even mixture and the outside of the cup sweats with cold. Drink it slowly and responsibly. Outside Cuba, use unaged white rum or cachaça for the aguardiente; a short tumbler is fine if you have no clay cup. Chef's tip: soak the clay cup in cold water for ten minutes first; it keeps the drink cold for much longer.

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Mojito

In Old Havana the mojito is the answer to three o'clock heat: made at bar counters along Obispo Street, on the Malecón and at home on the patio, often with a plate of tostones or chicharritas on the side. It is a drink for adults only, though its cool, fresh taste can fool you; sip it slowly and drink responsibly. A real Cuban mojito is fragrant and grassy from hierbabuena, the mild local mint, sharp with lime, gently sweet and lightly sparkling, with the rum giving it backbone rather than burn. The common mistake is shredding the mint with heavy muddling: the leaves turn black, bitter and stick in your teeth. Press the leaves softly against the sugar and lime just until you can smell them strongly, then stop. It is ready when the sugar has dissolved, the glass is fully frosted and the mint leaves are scattered bright green through the ice. Outside Cuba, use spearmint; peppermint tastes like toothpaste here. Chef's tip: slap the garnish sprig between your palms before tucking it in beside the straw; every sip then comes with the smell of fresh mint.

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Chicharrón cochabambinoPork fried in chicha

Cochabamba's Sunday chicharrón is pork, cooked the slow way: big chunks of pork rib and shoulder simmered in chicha, the valley's fermented corn drink, with garlic and cumin until the liquid evaporates and the meat fries golden in its own fat. It is eaten with mote (big white corn), boiled potatoes and llajwa. Chicha contains alcohol, and some remains after cooking, so this dish is for adults; for an alcohol-free version use unsweetened apple juice with a splash of cider vinegar. The common mistake is rushing the last stage over a high heat, which burns the outside before the inside is tender. Chef's tip: once the liquid has gone, turn the pieces only every few minutes so a real crust can form.

150 minAndeanMeatGluten free
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