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Duivekater is an old festive bread from Holland and Zeeland, baked for St Nicholas, Christmas and New Year's Eve. It is a long, flat, glossy loaf of rich, lemon-scented sweet dough, shaped with cuts at both ends that curl like a bone or a pair of legs; bakers once also made it for church feast days. Slices are eaten with butter. Chef's tip: give the shaped loaf a full second rise before cutting the ends, or the cuts close up in the oven.
In Egypt halawa tahiniya is a breakfast and suhoor food more than a dessert: it is eaten in Ramadan before dawn, on Coptic fasting days when animal foods are avoided, and spread in warm aish baladi bread at any time of year. Tahini is mixed with sugar syrup at the firm-ball stage, and the syrup crystallises through the sesame paste to give the halva its fibrous, crumbly strands. It tastes nutty, sweet and toasty, and pairs well with sweet tea. Factory halva often uses soapwort root, whose foam whips the syrup and gives longer strands; this home version offers it as an option, and never uses egg white. It is naturally egg-free: the hot syrup, crystallising as it is folded into the tahini, is what sets it. Chef's tip: stir only until the mixture turns matte and starts to look stringy. The common mistake is over-mixing, which makes the oil separate and the halva greasy.
In the Netherlands, kerstkransjes are small, ring-shaped butter biscuits topped with flaked almonds and pearl sugar, traditionally threaded with a ribbon and hung on the Christmas tree for children to pick off. They are tender and buttery with a lemony crumb and a crunchy top, and keep well in a tin through the holidays. They take about 45 minutes from start to finish. Chef's tip: punch the centre hole slightly bigger than you want; it shrinks as the biscuits bake.
Malban is the Egyptian cousin of Turkish delight, sold by weight in Cairo sweet shops all year but piled highest for Ramadan nights and the Mawlid sweets of the Prophet's birthday. A syrup of sugar and lemon is cooked with cornflour for the best part of an hour into a thick, clear jelly, scented with rose water and a little mastic and studded with pistachios or hazelnuts. Cut into cubes and rolled in icing sugar, it is soft, springy and chewy, sweet and floral. Serve it with mint tea or Turkish-style coffee. It is naturally egg-free: cornflour, cooked slowly in the syrup, sets it into a firm jelly, with no other setting agent. Chef's tip: whisk the cornflour mixture into the syrup in a thin stream and keep stirring. The common mistake is stopping too early, which gives a soft jelly that weeps and won't hold a cube.
On an Argentine Christmas Eve, after midnight toasts, the 'mesa dulce' appears with pan dulce, garrapiñadas and turrón de maní: a chewy white nougat of honey, sugar, whipped egg white and roasted peanuts, often set between two sheets of rice paper. Families make it in the days before Nochebuena. The egg white is cooked by the hot syrup. It is gluten free if you use gluten-free wafer paper or none. Chef's tip: work fast once the syrup is in, as the nougat stiffens as it cools and gets hard to spread.
In Buenos Aires and the river provinces of the Litoral, kumquat trees ripen in the middle of winter, between June and August, and the fruit goes straight into jars of syrup. Grandmothers' pantries held quinotos for the whole year, brought out for birthdays and long Sunday lunches. Each little fruit turns glossy orange and translucent, with a soft, bittersweet skin and a sharp, juicy centre. Spoon them over vanilla ice cream, serve them with a slice of fresh cheese in the style of postre vigilante, or eat them straight from the jar. Many bar menus offer them steeped in spirits; this version keeps only the syrup. Naturally egg-free, the quinotos rely on sugar syrup to preserve them, while pectin from the peel gives the syrup a light, jammy body. Chef's tip: blanch the fruit three times from cold water; the common mistake is skipping this, which leaves the skins tough and bitter.
Dulce de leche is the flavour Buenos Aires heladerías are judged by, and on a summer night the queues at neighbourhood ice-cream shops stretch out onto the pavement well after dinner. Locals order it plain, with a ripple of extra dulce de leche (dulce de leche granizado adds chocolate flakes), often by the kilo to take home. It is dense, chewy and deeply caramel. This home version is egg-free with no custard: a little cornflour cooked into the milk thickens it the way yolks would, and the dulce de leche itself is milk and sugar cooked down, its sugar and milk solids keeping crystals tiny so it stays smooth and scoopable. Churn it, or still-freeze and stir it every 45 minutes. Chef's tip: chill the extra dulce de leche before rippling it in; the common mistake is folding in a warm one, which melts into the ice cream instead of leaving ribbons.
Aguadito is the soup Lima serves in the small hours: at the end of a wedding, after New Year's Eve and at weekend family lunches, it is ladled out thick and steaming to revive everyone. Rice simmers in chicken broth coloured deep green with blended coriander and warmed with yellow ají amarillo, along with peas, carrot, pepper, sweetcorn and potato. A portion gives about 24 g of protein, from the chicken with a little from the rice and peas, for around 480 kcal. The common mistake is adding the coriander purée too early: cooked for long it turns khaki and loses its fresh taste, so stir it in for the last 10 minutes. The chicken must reach 74 °C at the bone. Chef's tip: blend a handful of spinach with the coriander; it keeps the colour vivid green without changing the flavour.
Bruine bonensoep is a Dutch winter staple, simmered in homes from Groningen to Zeeland on dark evenings between November and March and eaten with thick slices of rye bread. Brown beans are cooked with onion, leek, celery and carrot, then about half of the pot is blended, so the soup is velvety but still full of whole beans. Many families add bacon or smoked sausage; this version is vegetarian and vegan, with smoked paprika and a little soy sauce standing in for the smoky, savoury depth. A bowl gives about 22 g of protein from the beans. Brown beans are a type of kidney bean, so after soaking for 12 hours (not counted in the times) they must boil hard for 10 minutes. The most common mistake is blending the whole pot, which turns it into a heavy purée with no texture. Chef's tip: a pinch of ground cloves with the bay leaf gives the old-fashioned Dutch flavour.
In the fishermen's terminals of Chorrillos and Callao, chilcano is what you drink on a Sunday morning after a long night: a clear, gingery broth made from the heads and bones left over from cleaning fish for ceviche, with chunks of fish, red onion, chilli and a squeeze of lime in the bowl. It is light and warming, around 160 kcal a bowl, and still gives about 24 g of protein from the fish fillet and the broth. The common mistake is squeezing the lime into the pot while it boils, which turns it bitter; add it to each bowl at the table. Don't boil the bones for more than 30 minutes either, or the broth turns cloudy and harsh. Chef's tip: ask the fishmonger for heads and frames from mild white fish like sea bass or cod, and leave out oily fish such as mackerel, which makes the broth strong and fishy.
Beid bil basterma is a Cairo breakfast and late-night supper, made in homes and served at the old ful-and-falafel cafés downtown, always brought to the table in the small pan it was cooked in with baladi bread for scooping. Basterma is air-dried beef cured under a thick coat of fenugreek, garlic, cumin and paprika; a few thin slices are warmed in ghee until they curl and release their spice, then eggs are cracked over the top. The common mistake is frying the basterma too hot or too long: it is already cured and only needs warming, and it turns hard and bitter if it crisps. Chef's tip: leave some of the spiced crust on the slices; it melts into the ghee and seasons the eggs. For pregnant people, young children, older or vulnerable people, cook the yolks until firm.
Parihuela is the big weekend seafood soup of Callao and the Peruvian coast, eaten at long Sunday lunches in cevicherías and praised as a cure for tiredness and late nights. A deep red broth of ají panca, ají amarillo, tomato and fish stock is loaded with chunks of fish, prawns, squid and mussels. A portion gives about 30 g of protein, from the fish and shellfish, for roughly 300 kcal. Some cooks add chicha de jora or beer; this version has none. The common mistake is adding all the seafood at once: squid and prawns turn rubbery while the fish cooks, so they go in last. Before cooking, discard any mussels that stay open when tapped, and after cooking discard any that stay shut. Chef's tip: fry the chilli pastes in the oil until they darken and smell sweet; that toasted ají is what gives parihuela its depth.
A Topfengolatsche is what Viennese office workers grab from the bakery on the way in, and what grandparents order with a Melange in a coffee house on a Sunday afternoon. The corners of a puff pastry square are folded over a lemony, vanilla-scented filling of Topfen (Austrian quark) with plump raisins, and the top gets a thin white glaze. It is flaky, light and not too sweet. Raisins are sometimes soaked in rum; warm water or orange juice works just as well, and the recipe below is alcohol-free. Wet quark is the classic problem, because it turns the filling runny and it leaks out in the oven. Chef's tip: hang the quark in a sieve lined with a clean cloth for an hour, or squeeze it, until it is as thick as soft cream cheese.
Fayesh belongs to the Sa'id, Upper Egypt, where village women bake it in big batches in mud-brick ovens so the family has something crunchy for breakfast tea for weeks, and travellers from Luxor and Aswan carry bags of it north as a gift. A lightly sweet, aniseed-scented bread is baked, sliced, then dried slowly into hard, golden rusks crusted with sesame. They are dunked in black tea with plenty of sugar or in hot milk, and they never go stale. The common error is drying them too fast at a high heat: the outside browns while the middle stays soft, and that softness turns mouldy in the tin. Chef's tip: slice the loaves the next morning, not while warm; a rested loaf cuts into clean, even slices that dry at the same rate.
Ask anyone from Buenos Aires to Córdoba what they ate when they came home late or felt poorly as a child, and the answer is often fideos con manteca: short pasta tossed with butter and a snowfall of grated queso rallado. It is the plainest dish in the Argentine home kitchen and the one people cook for themselves on a tired weeknight. The mistake that ruins it is draining the pasta bone-dry and adding cold cheese to a hot empty pan, which leaves greasy strands and clumps; a splash of cooking water makes a light, creamy coating instead. Argentine reggianito and Parmesan are made with animal rennet, so use a vegetarian hard cheese if needed. Chef's tip: grate the cheese very finely, like dust, so it melts on contact.
Salpicón de ave is the cold supper of Argentine summers, made in Buenos Aires flats and on estancias alike when it is too hot to cook much, and a favourite way to use the chicken from a puchero or Sunday roast. Shredded chicken is mixed with diced pepper, tomato, spring onion, sweetcorn and boiled egg, bound with mayonnaise sharpened with lemon and mustard, and served chilled with crusty bread or on lettuce. The common mistake is dressing it while the chicken is still hot, which melts the mayonnaise into an oily puddle; let everything cool first. Chef's tip: dress the chicken with the lemon juice and a pinch of salt before the mayonnaise goes in, so the meat itself is seasoned, not just its coating.
Ask Argentinians for their favourite tart at a family birthday and this one often wins: a crisp shortcrust spread thickly with dulce de leche, then covered with a coconut, sugar and egg topping that bakes into a golden, chewy crust. Bakeries from Córdoba to Mar del Plata sell it by the slice for the merienda with mate or a café con leche. It is very sweet, so the slices are thin, and it is a good keeper for a few days. Ordinary spreading dulce de leche is the mistake: it runs and bubbles out at the edges. Use the thicker pastry-style kind, sold in Argentina as 'repostero'. Chef's tip: chill the case with the dulce de leche spread on it for 15 minutes before adding the coconut, so the two layers stay distinct.
Up and down the Peruvian coast, from Chorrillos in Lima to the beaches of Piura, chicharrón de pescado is the crunchy plate ordered alongside ceviche at a long seafood lunch: bite-size chunks of firm white fish marinated briefly in garlic and lime, dusted in flour and fried, then served with fried cassava, salsa criolla and tartar or rocoto sauce. Using frozen peeled cassava keeps it to half an hour. The common mistake is leaving the fish in the lime too long: after about ten minutes the acid starts to 'cook' the outside and the coating slips off. Chef's tip: toss the floured pieces in a sieve to shake off every bit of loose flour; a thin coat fries crisp, a thick one turns pasty.
Pejerrey arrebozado is a Lima classic from the cevicherías and home kitchens of the coast, eaten at lunch on a plate with white rice, a heap of sharp salsa criolla and sometimes boiled potato. The pejerrey, a small silverside, is opened into butterflied fillets, dipped in a light egg-and-flour batter and fried golden. Outside Peru, use small fillets of whiting, sole, haddock or tilapia. The batter here uses sparkling water, not beer, so it is alcohol free. The common mistake is frying in oil that isn't hot enough: the batter drinks the oil and turns greasy, so test with a drop of batter first. Chef's tip: make the salsa criolla first and let the onion sit in lime for ten minutes; it softens its bite and turns a pretty pink.
Tallarines rojos is the Sunday-lunch and weeknight pasta of homes all over Peru, from Lima to Arequipa: spaghetti in a sweet, deep-red sauce of blended tomato, onion and garlic with a little ají panca and oregano, often with pieces of chicken cooked right in it. Children love it, and it is served with a sprinkle of grated cheese and sometimes a spoon of huancaína on the side. The usual mistake is cooking the sauce too briefly, so it tastes of raw onion; let the blended tomato fry until it darkens and the oil shows at the edges. Chef's tip: a bay leaf and a spoon of ají panca paste give the sauce its Peruvian character; paprika will do if you can't find the paste.
Italian families brought ricotta tarts to Buenos Aires and Rosario, and torta de ricota is now as Argentinian as mate: every panadería has one in the window, with a lattice of sweet, crumbly masa frola over a pale, lemon-scented ricotta filling. It is cut into wedges for the merienda, the late-afternoon snack, or for a birthday where nobody wants a heavy cake. The texture is light and slightly grainy rather than silky, and the pastry tastes of butter and vanilla. Wet ricotta is the biggest risk, giving a weeping, soggy tart. Chef's tip: drain the ricotta overnight in the fridge in a sieve lined with a cloth, and add a few raisins only if they have been soaked, or they draw moisture from the filling.
From mid-November, when Sinterklaas arrives by boat, Dutch bakers fill their windows with banketstaven: long logs of buttery puff pastry with a thick seam of soft almond paste inside. They carry on through Christmas, and in many families a banketletter, the same pastry shaped into the first letter of a child's name, is part of the 5 December presents. Sliced thick, it is flaky outside and moist, sweet and marzipan-like inside; serve it with coffee or hot chocolate. Leaving a weak seam is the mistake that lets the almond filling burst out in the oven. Chef's tip: make the almond paste a day ahead and rest it in the fridge: the almonds absorb the egg and it bakes up softer and more fragrant.
The small town of Oropesa, half an hour from Cusco, calls itself Peru's bread capital, and its wood-fired bakeries are famous for chuta: big, flat, round loaves as wide as a dinner plate, glossy on top, with a faint sweetness and the warmth of aniseed. Travellers on the road to Puno and Bolivia stop to buy them by the bagful, and families bring them home for All Saints' Day and for sharing with hot coca tea or coffee, fresh cheese and butter. The bakeries traditionally use lard; this version uses vegetable shortening and butter, so it is vegetarian. The make-or-break moment is the proof: chuta is large and flat, and if it goes in under-risen it bakes dense and splits at the rim. Chef's tip: toast the aniseed for a minute in a dry pan and crush it lightly before adding, for a rounder, sweeter perfume.
Village women in Sohag, Qena and the countryside around Luxor still bake aish merahrah in mud-brick ovens, a whole week's supply at a time. Made mostly from maize flour with ground fenugreek seeds, it is thin, rough-textured and crisp at the edges, with a gently bitter, maple-like fenugreek aroma and a faint sourness from fermentation. Fresh, it is folded around ful medames, salty mish cheese or a dab of molokhia; dried, it keeps for weeks and is crumbled into soups and stews. A little wholemeal wheat flour holds the dough together, so it is not gluten free. Maize has almost no stretch, and trying to roll it like wheat dough is the classic mistake: it cracks and tears, so pat it out with wet hands instead. Chef's tip: toast the fenugreek seeds in a dry pan for a minute before grinding; it softens their bitterness and deepens the nutty flavour.
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