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172 recipes

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.

15 min

Lao Snacks & Starters

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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.

10 min

Lao Chutneys & Dips

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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.

50 min

Lao Vegetarian

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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 min

Lao Salads

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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 min

Lao Drinks

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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 min

Lao Soups

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Minchi (Macanese minced meat with potatoes)

If one dish says home to Macanese families, the descendants of Portuguese and Chinese Macau, it is minchi: a quick hash of minced beef and pork seasoned with soy sauce, Worcestershire sauce and a touch of sugar, mixed with crisp little cubes of fried potato and crowned with a runny fried egg. It appears on weeknight tables, at Macanese restaurants near Rua do Cunha, and at gatherings of the Macanese community abroad, always with plain white rice. Savoury, slightly sweet and full of crunch, it tastes like the meeting of a Portuguese kitchen and a Cantonese wok. A common error is stirring the potatoes into the meat too early, which makes them soft and floury; fry them separately until crisp and fold them in at the end. Chef's tip: let the mince sit undisturbed for a minute in the hot pan before stirring, so it browns instead of stewing.

30 min

Macanese Meat

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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.

30 min

Lao Chutneys & Dips

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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.

240 min

Lao Snacks & Starters

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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 min

Lao Salads

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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.

20 min

Lao Chutneys & Dips

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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.

25 min

Lao Chutneys & Dips

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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 min

Lao Salads

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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.

90 min

Lao Desserts

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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 min

Lao Soups

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Serradura

Portuguese for 'sawdust', serradura is the cool, creamy dessert you'll find in every Macanese restaurant and café from Taipa to the Senado Square backstreets, ordered to round off a long Macanese lunch. Alternating layers of sweetened whipped cream and powder-fine tea biscuit crumbs set softly in the fridge, so each spoonful is light, milky and caramel-sweet, with a gentle crumbly texture. It is usually served in small glasses, sometimes semi-frozen like an ice cream cake. Coarse crumbs are where it goes wrong; they stay crunchy and gritty instead of melting into the cream, so grind the biscuits as fine as sand. Chef's tip: whip the cream and condensed milk together only to firm peaks and stop there, or it turns grainy and buttery.

20 min

Macanese Desserts

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Galinha à portuguesa (Portuguese chicken)

Puzzlingly, you will not find this in Portugal: galinha à portuguesa belongs to Macau, where cooks mixed a Portuguese idea of a creamy baked chicken with the turmeric, curry powder and coconut milk that came through the Portuguese trading routes from Goa and Malacca. Macanese restaurants and Hong Kong's cha chaan teng serve it bubbling in a clay pot or baking dish, golden on top, with chicken and potatoes in a mild, yellow, gently sweet coconut sauce, always with white rice to soak it up. It is a favourite for family dinners and Christmas tables. The thing people get wrong is boiling the coconut sauce hard, so it splits and turns oily; keep it at a gentle simmer. Chef's tip: brown the chicken well first, and finish under a hot grill for the speckled golden top that Macau restaurants are known for.

75 min

Macanese Chicken

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African chicken (Macanese galinha africana)

Macau restaurants have served galinha africana since the 1940s, and the story most often told is that a hotel chef in the city created it from spices that Portuguese sailors brought back from Mozambique and Angola. Today it is a signature at Macanese and Portuguese restaurants from Taipa village to Coloane, eaten at long weekend lunches with rice or crusty bread. Chicken pieces are marinated, grilled until charred, then baked under a thick, brick-coloured sauce of ground peanuts, coconut milk, chilli, paprika, garlic and onion that is rich, nutty and quietly fiery. It is often made with a pale, timid sauce; cook the onion, garlic and paprika slowly until really deep red before the coconut goes in. Chef's tip: marinate the chicken overnight in the fridge so the garlic and chilli reach the bone.

75 min

Macanese Chicken

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Mohnnudeln

The Waldviertel, the cool, forested uplands of Lower Austria, is poppy country: in July its fields bloom white, pink and violet, and the grey poppy seed grown there has a protected name. Mohnnudeln are its favourite sweet dish, served as a main meal on meatless days or as dessert. Soft potato dough is rolled into little tapered noodles, boiled, then tossed in foaming butter with a generous amount of freshly ground poppy seed and icing sugar, so they taste nutty, buttery and gently sweet. A common mistake is using whole or stale poppy seeds; whole seeds give no flavour and old ground ones taste bitter. Chef's tip: grind the poppy seed yourself in a spice grinder just before using, in short bursts so it doesn't turn to paste.

60 min

Austrian Desserts

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Powidltascherl

Powidl, a thick, dark plum butter cooked for hours without added sugar, came to Vienna from Bohemia, and these little pockets are one of its best uses. In Austrian homes they are a sweet lunch in late summer, when the new season's plums arrive, or a pudding after a bowl of soup. A tender potato dough is cut into squares, folded around a spoonful of spiced powidl, simmered, then tossed in golden butter crumbs and dusted with icing sugar. A common mistake is overworking the dough, which makes it tough and sticky; mix the potato and flour only until it comes together. Chef's tip: rice the potatoes while hot and spread them out to steam dry, so you need less flour and the dough stays light.

75 min

Austrian Desserts

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Salzburger Nockerl

Salzburger Nockerl is the dessert Salzburg serves to visitors after a concert or a walk through the old town: three golden, sugar-dusted peaks said to stand for the hills around the city. Under the airy egg-white soufflé is a layer of tart lingonberries or redcurrants, warmed with vanilla milk in the baking dish. It is meant to be shared from the dish and eaten the moment it leaves the oven, before it sinks. This version uses cornflour instead of wheat flour, so it is gluten free. A common mistake is over-folding the yolks into the whites; streaks are fine, and too much stirring makes it collapse. Chef's tip: keep the oven door shut until the end; the peaks are ready when they are golden outside but still creamy inside.

28 min

Austrian Desserts

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Punschkrapfen

Punschkrapfen are the bright pink cubes that glow from every Viennese Konditorei counter, especially in winter. Traditionally the filling of sponge crumbs, jam and chocolate is soaked in rum punch, which gives the cake its name, so the classic version contains alcohol. This recipe makes the alcohol-free version with orange juice and strong black tea, which keeps the fruity, warming flavour that children can eat too; to make the traditional one, swap 40 ml of the orange juice for dark rum. The sponge is moist and dense, the icing sweet and crackly. A common mistake is skipping the overnight press; the cubes fall apart when cut. Many pink colourings use carmine, made from insects, so choose a plant-based one such as beetroot red. Chef's tip: cut with a knife dipped in hot water and wiped between each cut for clean edges.

80 min

Austrian Baking

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Esterházytorte

Named after a Hungarian noble family and claimed by both Budapest and Vienna, this torte is a showpiece of Viennese pastry shops, where it sits in the glass counter beside richer chocolate cakes. Five or six crisp-chewy almond meringue layers are stacked with a vanilla custard buttercream, then topped with white icing and the famous feathered chocolate lines. It has no flour at all, so it suits gluten-free guests. A common mistake is baking the layers too pale; they should be light golden, or they go soft and sticky in the cream. Chef's tip: draw the circles on baking paper first and spread the meringue to the line with a palette knife, so every layer matches.

140 min

Austrian Baking

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Kardinalschnitten

Kardinalschnitten, 'cardinal slices', were created in Vienna with the colours of the Church in mind: white meringue and yellow sponge baked side by side in stripes. In Viennese cafés they are a light, summery choice with an afternoon coffee. Two baked sheets of alternating stripes sandwich a soft coffee cream, and the result is crisp, airy and cool at the same time. A common mistake is overfilling with cream that has not been stabilised; it squeezes out when you cut. Here a little mascarpone keeps the cream firm without gelatine. Chef's tip: pipe the meringue stripes first and the sponge in the gaps after, so the sponge does not spread flat.

75 min

Austrian Baking

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