Skip to content
Recipes

All recipes

Vegetarian, or something you can't eat? Set your diet once and we'll hide recipes that don't fit.

Kati kati

From Kom country near Bamenda, kati kati is chicken cooked twice: first grilled over open coals until smoky and charred in places, then chopped and simmered briefly in red palm oil with onion and hot pepper until every piece is lacquered. It turns up at celebrations in the North West and in Bamenda chop houses, always with fufu corn and a heap of njama njama. The flavour is smoky, rich and fiery, and the sauce is thick enough to cling, not pool. A charcoal grill gives the best flavour, though a hot oven grill works well. Chef's tip: chop the grilled chicken into small pieces before it goes into the pot, so the palm oil sauce reaches every surface.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Sweet okok

Okok leaves come from a wild forest vine, and in the Centre region market women sit shaving them into hair-fine ribbons with razor-sharp knives so cooks can take them home ready to use. The Beti way is to cook them with plenty of freshly ground groundnuts and, in the version many people grew up on, a spoonful of sugar, which turns the pot into a thick, nutty, gently sweet green stew. Expect a pleasant chew from the leaves and a creamy body from the peanuts; there is no palm oil here at all. Serve it with slices of bobolo or boiled cassava for a classic Yaoundé lunch. The usual mistake is adding the groundnut paste too early and not stirring, so it scorches on the base. Chef's tip: wash the shredded leaves in at least three changes of water, rubbing them between your hands, to remove the fine grit that collects in the ribbons.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Miondo

Douala's Duala families wrap their cassava dough into slim sticks no thicker than a finger, and bundles of miondo tied with string are stacked at every market from Akwa to New Bell. The roots are soaked for several days until they soften and sour, then ground smooth, drained, rolled, wrapped in leaves and boiled until firm and slightly translucent. The result is chewy, gently tangy and neutral enough to soak up ndolé, grilled fish or a fiery pepper sauce, and peeling back the leaf is part of the pleasure. Plan ahead: the soaking takes 3–4 days and the draining a few hours more, though the hands-on work is about an hour. Chef's tip: roll the sticks no thicker than your little finger so they cook through evenly; fat ones stay pasty in the middle.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Kondre

For weddings, funerals, the enthronement of a chief or the return of a relative from abroad, the Bamileke of the West Region cook kondre. Chunks of goat are stewed slowly with green plantain, tomato and a fragrant blend of local spices including white pepper, pebe and country onion, until the plantain melts at the edges and thickens the sauce. The result is earthy, peppery and very satisfying, eaten straight from the bowl with nothing else alongside. Beef or lamb can replace goat; pebe and country onion are sold in Cameroonian grocers, with nutmeg and a pinch of clove standing in at a pinch. Marinate the meat in the fridge, never on the counter. Chef's tip: give the goat a full hour on its own before the plantain goes in; the meat needs far longer to soften.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Accra banane

Morning street corners in Douala smell of frying banana: vendors drop very ripe fruit and flour batter into deep oil and sell accra banane by the paper bag, often with a bowl of bouillie or a plate of beans. Crisp at the edges and soft, sweet and almost custardy inside, these little puffs need nothing more than mashed bananas, flour, sugar and a pinch of nutmeg. Children love them after school, and they are a thrifty way to rescue fruit that has turned black. A frequent slip is using underripe bananas, which give heavy, bland fritters. Chef's tip: use bananas so ripe the skins are mostly black; firmer yellow ones give a dry, bland fritter.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Mintumba

Golden and glossy with red palm oil, mintumba is the richer cousin of bobolo, baked or steamed in leaves in the Centre region and eaten as a snack or alongside sauce, grilled fish or roasted groundnuts. The soured cassava dough is kneaded with oil and a little salt, then wrapped and cooked until it sets into a dense, chewy loaf with a toasty crust where it touched the leaf. Its flavour is tangy, earthy and buttery from the oil. Start with bought fermented cassava paste from an African grocer, or make the dough as for bobolo. Don't wrap the dough loosely; gaps let water in and the parcels turn soggy. Chef's tip: warm the palm oil until just liquid before kneading it in; poured in solid, it streaks the dough instead of colouring it evenly.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Nnam ngon with mushrooms

Steamed parcels of nnam ngon turn up at Beti weddings, funerals and big Sunday tables in the Centre, unwrapped to reveal a firm, pale cake of ground pumpkin seeds that slices like a terrine. The seeds are ground with onion, garlic, ginger and hot pepper, then bound with water and steamed slowly in leaves until rich, savoury and almost meaty. Smoked fish is the classic addition; here browned mushrooms take its place, so the parcels are vegan and still very filling. Serve with bobolo, boiled plantain or sweet ripe plantain. Chef's tip: brown the mushrooms in a dry pan first; added raw, they release water inside the parcel and leave the mixture loose.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Mbongo tchobi

The Bassa people of the Littoral, between Douala and Édéa, are famous for mbongo tchobi, fish cooked in a startling jet-black sauce. The colour comes from mbongo, the pods of a wild plant in the ginger family, charred over a flame until black and ground with onion, garlic, ginger and njansang; the taste is smoky, peppery and deeply aromatic rather than burnt. Freshwater fish such as carp or tilapia is traditional, simmered gently in the sauce for family gatherings and in Douala restaurants, with boiled plantain, miondo or rice on the side. If mbongo is hard to find, charred black cardamom with grains of paradise gives a similar smoky warmth. Chef's tip: shake the pan instead of stirring once the fish goes in, so the pieces stay whole.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Kossam

Fulani herders of the Adamawa plateau measure hospitality in kossam: a calabash of cool milk offered to a guest after a long ride, or sold in Ngaoundéré's markets fresh in the morning and pleasantly soured by afternoon. Fresh kossam is simply creamy whole milk, sometimes sweetened, drunk cold with couscous or on its own as a light meal in the heat of the day. For the tangy soured style, stir two spoonfuls of live plain yoghurt into the milk, leave it somewhere warm for 8–12 hours until thickened, then chill. Traditionally it is made with raw milk; at home, always use pasteurised. Chef's tip: chill the milk for several hours and whisk the sugar in hard just before serving, which gives the light froth you see on calabash-served kossam.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Nkui

Bamileke families in the West Region cook nkui for celebrations, and it is also a traditional food for new mothers in the weeks after a birth. Bark from the nkui shrub is steeped and squeezed until the water turns long and slippery, then simmered with a peppery blend of local spices and finished with okra for an even stronger draw. The soup is thin, silky and warming rather than rich, with a woody, citrusy heat. Lift it with a ball of fufu corn and let the strands trail from your fingers. Look for the bark and the spice mix in Cameroonian grocers; grated okra alone gives a lighter but similar draw. The usual mistake is boiling the soup hard after whisking; it loses its draw. Keep it at a bare simmer. Chef's tip: whip the soup hard with a whisk right after adding the potash; the beating is what builds the stretchy strands.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Njama njama and fufu corn

Every chop house in Bamenda has its own pot of njama njama, the bitter-sweet huckleberry leaf that grows in Grassfields gardens, served next to a smooth white dome of fufu corn. The leaves are boiled briefly to tame their bitterness, squeezed and then stir-fried with onion, tomato and pepper until tender and glossy. Pinch off some fufu, press a dent into it with your thumb and use it to scoop up the greens; at home, grilled chicken or kati kati often joins the plate. Frozen huckleberry leaves are sold in African grocers, and spinach with a little kale is a fair stand-in. Avoid skipping the blanching of the huckleberry leaves; unblanched they stay bitter. Chef's tip: squeeze the blanched leaves hard by the handful; leftover water dilutes the tomato base and makes the greens soggy.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Corn chaff

Big pots of corn chaff are everyday food in the North West, from Bamenda's Food Market to boarding-school dining halls, where maize and beans stretch a long way. Dried corn and beans are simmered until soft, then folded into a red palm oil sauce with onion, tomato and hot pepper, with a handful of greens stirred through at the end. The result is hearty and chewy with a deep, slightly smoky sweetness from the oil, and it tastes even better the next day. Serve it in bowls, with ripe avocado on the side when it is in season. Soak the maize and beans overnight. Chef's tip: give the dried maize a head start of about 45 minutes before adding the beans, because it takes far longer to soften.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Couscous de maïs

Across the North, from Garoua's riverside neighbourhoods to the Adamawa plateau around Ngaoundéré, the evening meal is usually couscous de maïs: not the steamed grains of North Africa but a stiff, smooth maize paste shaped into domes with a wet calabash. It is eaten with the right hand, dipped into slippery okra sauce, leaf sauces or a tomato and groundnut stew. The flavour is mild and sweet like fresh corn, and the texture firm enough to hold the dent made by your thumb. Use fine maize meal; coarse polenta gives a gritty result. Chef's tip: let the first handful of meal cook undisturbed on the simmering water for a few minutes before stirring; it forms a raft that blends in without lumps.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Ekwang with mushrooms

Rolling ekwang is a job for many hands: in the Southwest and around Douala, relatives sit together grating cocoyam and tucking it into leaves for a festive Sunday or a homecoming. The little green cigars are packed into a pot, drenched in red palm oil and left to simmer until the grated tuber binds into soft, almost creamy rolls in a rich, glossy sauce. Smoked fish and crayfish are the usual partners; this meat-free version gets its depth from fresh and dried mushrooms and a pinch of smoked paprika, so it suits vegetarian and vegan guests alike. Serve it on its own, scooping up the sauce, or with boiled plantain. Chef's tip: grate the cocoyam on the finest holes, almost to a purée, so the rolls hold together; coarse shreds stay separate and the pot turns grainy.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Roasted safou

When the rainy season brings fresh maize to Cameroon, the safou trees fruit at the same time, and roadside grills from Douala to Yaoundé sell the violet plums alongside charred corn cobs. A few minutes over embers turns the firm, sour flesh soft, buttery and slightly tangy, which is why safou is often called the African butter fruit. People peel back the skin with their teeth, scrape the pale green flesh off the stone and alternate bites with sweet corn or a chunk of boiled plantain. Look for fresh or frozen safou in African grocers. Chef's tip: a pinch of salt sprinkled on while the fruit is hot brings out its savoury, olive-like side.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Majarisco

Its name blends 'majado' (mashed plantain) and 'marisco' (seafood), and along the coast of Piura and Tumbes, near the Ecuadorian border, it's what cevicherías and beach restaurants serve when you want something hot and filling. Mashed green plantain is folded into a sauce of garlic, onion, ají and seafood juices, with prawns, squid and mussels running through it, so every forkful is creamy, garlicky and briny. Serve it with lime and salsa criolla. Mussels must be alive: tap any open ones and discard those that don't close, and discard any that stay shut after cooking. Overcooking the seafood is the most frequent mistake; it goes in at the end, just until pink and opaque. Chef's tip: keep the mussel cooking liquid and use it to loosen the mash; it's pure seafood flavour.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Seco de chabelo

Piura's picanterías, near the dry northern border, serve this rough, savoury mash at lunch: green plantains, roasted or boiled and pounded, mixed with fried strips of carne seca (salted dried beef) and a quick sofrito of onion, tomato and ají amarillo. It is dense, salty and smoky, with the plantain's starchy sweetness, and is eaten with salsa criolla and fried ripe plantain or chifles (plantain crisps). The legend says it was invented for a soldier called Chabelo in the War of the Pacific. Use carne seca or cecina from Latin shops, or unseasoned beef jerky. Pounding the plantains smooth is the classic mistake: chabelo should be lumpy and rustic. Chef's tip: soak the dried beef in warm water for 30 minutes and taste a piece; if it's still very salty, change the water and soak again.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Chuño phuti

Chuño are potatoes freeze-dried the ancient way on the Altiplano: left out on frosty nights, trampled to squeeze out the water and dried in the high sun, so they keep for years. In Puno and across the border in Bolivia, they are soaked, crumbled and fried with onion, then scrambled with egg and fresh cheese to make phuti, a hearty breakfast or supper eaten with a hot tea. The texture is dense and slightly chewy, and the flavour earthy and a little tangy. Chuño is sold dried in Andean shops; it must soak overnight (ideally 24 hours, with the water changed) and then be peeled, which adds time before you start. The mistake is not soaking or rinsing enough: under-soaked chuño smells strong and stays hard in the middle. Serve with a fresh tomato salsa or uchucuta. Fresh cheese is usually made with animal rennet, so use a vegetarian one if needed. Chef's tip: squeeze the soaked chuño hard between your palms before crumbling; the drier it is, the better it fries.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Arroz con pato

Chiclayo and the northern coast claim arroz con pato as their own, and family lunches and big Sunday gatherings there often centre on a deep pot of it: duck legs browned and simmered in dark beer and a purée of coriander and spinach, then rice cooked in the same green, duck-rich liquid with peas, red pepper and ají amarillo. The rice is moist and loose, the duck tender with crisp edges, and it is served with salsa criolla and, often, papa a la huancaína. The beer contains alcohol, and not all of it cooks off; for an alcohol-free pot use alcohol-free beer or the stock swap in the ingredients. A common mistake is skipping the browning, which leaves flabby skin and a pale, fatty rice; render the duck slowly first and pour off excess fat. Chef's tip: let the cooked rice rest under the lid off the heat for 10 minutes before fluffing.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Pesque de quinua

Up on the Altiplano around Lake Titicaca, where quinoa grows at almost 4,000 metres, pesque is everyday food: quinoa cooked until it collapses, then beaten with milk, a knob of butter and crumbled fresh cheese until it looks like a loose, savoury risotto. Puno families eat it for a warming lunch or supper, often with a glass of milk poured over or a fried egg on top, and in the cold dry air it is exactly what the body wants. It is soft, nutty and mildly salty. The step people skip is rinsing the quinoa, and the natural saponins then leave a soapy, bitter edge; rub it under running water until the foam stops. Serve with a tomato salad or a spoon of uchucuta for some heat. Andean fresh cheese is usually set with animal rennet, so choose a vegetarian fresh cheese if needed. Chef's tip: cook the quinoa in a little more water than usual and leave it a few minutes longer than for a salad, so it turns creamy and the grains burst.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Shámbar

Mondays in Trujillo mean shámbar: market stalls and huariques across the city put out pots of this thick, smoky soup of cracked wheat, chickpeas, broad beans, peas and canary beans, cooked with smoked ham hock, pork ribs and pork skin, then stirred through with a fried paste of ají panca and garlic and a handful of mint. It is earthy, porky and rib-sticking, and each bowl gets a scoop of crunchy cancha just before eating. Soak the beans and the wheat overnight. People often cook everything together from the start, and the peas turn to mush before the chickpeas soften; cook the hardest pulses first. Chef's tip: toast the wheat in a dry pan before soaking it; it gives the soup a nutty depth the locals look for.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Inchicapi

From the riverside kitchens of Iquitos and the Peruvian Amazon comes inchicapi, a festive chicken soup traditionally made with a free-range hen for birthdays and fiestas. Raw peanuts and a little maize flour are ground and stirred into the broth, which turns it creamy, pale and nutty, and pieces of cassava, garlic, ají dulce and sacha culantro (a long, serrated, strongly flavoured coriander) finish it. It is served with rice, boiled plantain or cassava. If you can't find sacha culantro in Asian or Latin shops (sold as culantro or ngo gai), use a big handful of coriander. The pitfall is adding the peanut paste dry: it clumps and catches on the bottom, so loosen it with broth first and stir often. Chef's tip: use raw, not roasted, peanuts; they keep the soup pale and give it the right fresh, milky taste.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Ensalada de pallares

Around Ica, on Peru's southern desert coast, pallares grow in irrigated valleys and dry into fat, flat beans the size of a thumbnail; the region holds them in high regard and sells them by the sack at the Ica market. Cooked until creamy and dressed while warm, they become a filling salad that sits on the table beside fried fish, rice or a plate of boiled sweet potato, and it works as a light lunch on its own. The onion is cut the Peruvian way, in fine half-moons, rinsed so it stays crisp without biting, and the ají limo gives a fruity heat that you can turn up or down. A frequent slip is dressing the beans straight from the fridge: they stay chalky and the lime slides off instead of soaking in. Using dried beans adds an overnight soak; good jarred or canned large lima beans make it a 20-minute dish. Chef's tip: dress the beans while they are still warm with half the lime and salt, then add the onion, tomato and the rest of the lime just before serving.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Kapchi

Kapchi (sometimes spelled capchi) comes from the Quechua for something like 'dressed' or 'creamed', and around Cusco it turns up when the fresh broad beans are in season: green habas, potatoes and soft fresh cheese simmered with milk until the sauce turns thick and pale, with ají and a handful of huacatay. Market stalls in San Pedro sell it with rice, and families make it at Easter as a meatless dish. It is gentle and creamy with a herby, slightly minty finish, and the beans stay sweet and tender. The trap is boiling the sauce once the cheese is in; it splits into curds and goes watery, so keep it at a bare simmer. Serve with white rice or boiled potatoes and a spoon of uchucuta. The same recipe works with sliced mushrooms instead of beans, which Cusco cooks also do. Queso fresco is usually set with animal rennet, so pick a vegetarian fresh cheese if you need to. Chef's tip: peel the beans of their pale inner skins after blanching; it takes ten minutes and makes the dish far silkier.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Showing 24 of 247 recipes

Show more recipes

Page 1 of 11