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Shlada batata (Moroccan cumin potato salad)

Shlada batata is one of the cooked salads that line up on a Moroccan table before Friday couscous, in Rabat as much as in the Rif: boiled potato chunks dressed while warm with olive oil, lemon, cumin, paprika, garlic and plenty of parsley, with no mayonnaise at all. It's eaten at room temperature with bread, or with grilled sardines. Dressing cold potatoes is the common mistake; they don't absorb the flavours, so toss them while they're still steaming. Chef's tip: a few slivers of preserved lemon peel make it unmistakably Moroccan.

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Shlada beldia (Moroccan tomato and cucumber salad)

Shlada beldia, "country salad", sits next to the bread on almost every Moroccan table, from Marrakech grill stalls to a Tuesday family lunch in Oujda. Tomato, cucumber, onion and green pepper are diced as small as lentils, then dressed with lemon, olive oil, parsley and a pinch of cumin, so it eats like a fresh relish with grilled meat, tagines or eggs. The common mistake is dressing it too early: the tomatoes weep and it turns to soup, so salt it just before serving. Chef's tip: dice everything to the same tiny size; that's what makes it taste Moroccan rather than like a chopped salad.

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Shlada gar'a (cooked courgette salad with cumin)

In Meknes and Casablanca the pale courgettes of early summer are cooked down into this soft, spiced salad, one of several little dishes set out with bread before the main course. The courgettes are steamed with garlic, then crushed lightly with olive oil, cumin, paprika and lemon until spoonable but still chunky. Serve it cool with bread or alongside grilled fish. Watery courgettes are the usual problem; cook off all the liquid before seasoning. Chef's tip: add a handful of chopped coriander only at the end so it stays bright.

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Shlada khiar (grated cucumber salad with oregano)

In the heat of a Fes or Marrakech summer, this ice-cold grated cucumber salad is served in bowls with spoons, half salad, half drink, alongside rich tagines or a plate of fried fish. Cucumber is grated and loosened with water, vinegar and a little sugar, then perfumed with crushed dried oregano or zaatar. Grating ahead and leaving it to sit in salt is the usual slip; the cucumber goes limp and bitter. Chef's tip: rub the oregano between your palms over the bowl to wake its oils.

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Ei im GlasSoft-boiled eggs in a glass

In the old coffee houses of Vienna, the breakfast menu still lists Ei im Glas: two very soft-boiled eggs, scooped warm from their shells into a small glass, with a knob of butter, chives, salt and pepper. You stir it into a golden, custardy mess and eat it with a crisp Semmel roll (gluten-free bread if you need it) and a Melange coffee. The mistake almost everyone makes is boiling the eggs a minute too long, so the yolk sets and the dish turns into plain egg salad. Chef's tip: warm the glass with hot water while the eggs cook, so the butter melts on contact and the eggs stay hot to the last spoonful.

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Cocido quemadoBurnt sugar mate drink

Cocido is how Paraguay starts the day: in Asunción, in the villages of Guairá and Itapúa, and in school kitchens, a pot of burnt yerba is brewed and poured into cups with chipa, the cheesy cassava bread, or with a hard galleta. The old way is to drop a glowing piece of charcoal into a pot with yerba and sugar and stir until the sugar burns. On a home stove you caramelise them together in a dry pan instead, which is safer and gives the same smoky, toffee-like taste. The drink is clear amber-brown, with roasted, slightly bitter mate notes over burnt-sugar sweetness; with milk added it becomes cocido con leche, creamy and coffee-coloured. Yerba mate contains caffeine, so treat it like a cup of coffee. The common mistake is letting the sugar go black: it turns acrid and bitter. Pull it off the heat when the caramel is deep amber and the yerba smells toasted, not burnt. It is ready when the liquid is a clear dark amber and tastes of toffee and smoke. Chef's tip: the water will spit fiercely when it hits the hot caramel, so pour it in from the side, at arm's length.

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TereréIced yerba mate

In Asunción the hottest part of the day stops for tereré: a horn or cup packed with yerba mate, topped up again and again with ice water infused with crushed herbs, and passed round the group through a metal straw. It was recognised by UNESCO as part of Paraguay's cultural heritage, and the herbs (yuyos) change with the season and the drinker's mood. Yerba mate contains caffeine, so it isn't one for small children. The common mistake is pouring water straight into loose yerba, which then clogs the straw; tilt the yerba to one side first. Chef's tip: for tereré ruso, swap the water for cold orange or grapefruit juice.

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EinspännerBlack coffee with whipped cream

The Einspänner is named after the one-horse carriages of old Vienna: coachmen waiting outside in winter supposedly liked their coffee under a lid of cream that kept it hot and stopped it slopping. Today it is served in a handled glass at classic coffee houses, a strong black mocha (a double espresso or Großer Brauner without milk) topped with a thick layer of cold, lightly sweetened whipped cream and a pinch of icing sugar. You do not stir it: you sip the hot, bitter coffee through the cold, sweet cream, so each mouthful is two temperatures and two textures. It is an afternoon or late-morning coffee, often with a slice of Sachertorte. The common mistake is runny cream that sinks and turns the drink into a milky latte; whip it until it just holds a peak and spoon it on gently so it floats. It is ready when the cream stands at least 2 cm above the coffee and slowly sinks at the edges. It is strong: a double shot of caffeine in one glass. Chef's tip: pour the coffee in first and wait ten seconds before adding the cream, so the crema settles and helps support the cap.

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VerhackertsSmoked bacon and garlic spread

In Styria, in the wine taverns (Buschenschanken) of the south and on farmhouse breakfast tables, verhackerts is spread thickly on dark rye bread with the morning coffee or at the mid-morning Jause: smoked pork bacon and back fat chopped so finely it becomes a paste, seasoned with garlic, salt and pepper. Traditionally it is made from raw cured, cold-smoked Styrian Speck and eaten without cooking; that raw version is not for pregnant women, young children or anyone with a weakened immune system. This safer home version cooks the minced bacon gently until the meat is cooked through (71 °C) before it is chilled into a spread. Serve on rye bread, or gluten-free bread if needed. The common mistake is browning the bacon; it should only render and turn opaque, or the spread goes crumbly instead of smooth. Chef's tip: mince it while the bacon is fridge-cold, almost frozen, so the fat stays in clean little pieces rather than smearing.

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LampreadoCassava starch cheese fritters

Paraguayan grandmothers fry lampreado on Sunday evenings to eat with a mug of cocido, the toasted yerba mate drink: small pan-fried cakes of cassava starch, egg, milk and grated cheese with a little onion, crisp at the edges and stretchy inside. Some families also make it with leftover meat, but this version is all cheese. Queso Paraguay is set with animal rennet; a vegetarian Parmesan-style cheese plus mozzarella works well. The trap is a batter that is too thick, which gives heavy, gluey cakes. Chef's tip: the batter should drop slowly off a spoon like thick pancake batter; add milk a spoonful at a time until it does.

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Wiener MelangeCoffee with milk and foam

In Vienna you never simply order 'a coffee'; you order by name, and the Melange is the one most Viennese ask for. It arrives in a large cup on a small silver tray with a glass of water and often a tiny chocolate, and you may sit over it for an hour with the newspapers at Café Prückel or Hawelka, mid-morning or after lunch. Traditionally it is a mild, longer espresso (a Verlängerter) with roughly equal hot milk and a soft cap of milk foam; it is gentler than a cappuccino and the foam is looser and creamier. Expect a round, nutty, slightly sweet cup with little bitterness. The common mistake is overheating the milk: once it passes about 70 °C it smells cooked and loses its sweetness and the foam turns big-bubbled and dry. Stop when the jug is too hot to hold for more than a second or two. It is ready when the foam sits in a smooth, glossy dome about a finger thick and the coffee shows as a brown ring at the edge. One cup has about the caffeine of a single espresso. Chef's tip: always serve the glass of water alongside, as Vienna does; it is drunk first to clear the palate.

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Martín FierroCheese with quince paste

Ask for dessert in a Montevideo bodegón or a country parador and you may be offered a Martín Fierro: a thick slice of fresh, mild cheese laid with an equal slice of dense quince or sweet-potato paste, named after the gaucho of the epic poem. It's salty against sweet, soft against firm, and takes two minutes to assemble. Uruguayan fresh cheese is usually made with animal rennet, so choose one with vegetarian rennet if that matters to you. The mistake is serving it fridge-cold, which dulls both flavours. Chef's tip: cut the cheese and paste to exactly the same thickness, about 1 cm, so every bite has both.

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SerraduraCream and biscuit crumb pudding

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.

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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.

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Eggs with khlii

Old Fassi households keep a jar of khlii in the cold for exactly this: a spoonful of its spiced fat warmed in a small pan, a few strands of the dried beef crisped in it, then eggs cracked straight on top. The whites set lacy and savoury from the cumin and coriander in the fat, the yolks stay soft, and the beef shards turn chewy-crisp like the best bacon bits. It is eaten on a weekend morning or on a cold day with warm khobz or msemen torn into the pan, alongside mint tea. Use khlii made by our safer oven-dried, fridge-stored method, and if you cook for anyone pregnant, very young or vulnerable, fry the eggs until the yolks are firm. Chef's tip: warm the khlii fat gently before the eggs go in; too hot and the meat burns bitter before the whites have set.

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QodbanGrilled lamb skewers

Smoke rising off long braziers marks the qodban sellers of Marrakech, who thread lamb cubes with little pieces of fat so the meat bastes itself over the coals. Cumin, paprika, grated onion and parsley go on before grilling; more cumin and salt go on after. The result is charred and juicy, fragrant rather than fiery, and eaten straight off the skewer, wrapped in khobz with a little harissa and tomato. Leg or shoulder of lamb both work. Chef's tip: alternate every two pieces of lean meat with one small piece of fat; it melts as the skewer turns and keeps the lean pieces moist.

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Lemon verbena tea (louiza)

After a big dinner or before bed, many Moroccan households swap green mint tea for a pot of louiza, lemon verbena, whose long, narrow leaves give a pale golden infusion that smells of lemon sherbet and has no caffeine. The fresh herb is sold in bunches alongside mint and absinthe at market herb stalls, and dried leaves keep all year. Drink it plain, lightly sweetened, or brewed with a few mint sprigs. It is soothing, clean-tasting and fragrant. Chef's tip: pour boiling water over the leaves and let them steep off the heat for 5 minutes; boiling the leaves in the pot, a common mistake, turns the tea grassy and bitter.

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Raib (set yogurt with orange-flower water)

Every Moroccan town has a mahlaba, a dairy café, with a fridge full of little glass pots of raib: soft, wobbly set yogurt, lightly sweetened and often scented with orange-flower water or flavoured with strawberry. It is eaten with a spoon as a snack, as a dessert after dinner, or with msemen at breakfast. The texture is delicate and spoonable rather than thick like strained yogurt. The oldest versions were set with rennet; this home version uses live yogurt as a starter (if you try rennet tablets, choose a vegetarian one). It needs 6–8 hours to set and a few hours to chill. Chef's tip: let the milk cool to 43 °C before adding the starter; too hot and the cultures die, so the raib never sets, which is the most common mistake.

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Devon cream tea scones

A cream tea is the West Country's afternoon treat: warm scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam with a pot of tea, served in tea gardens across Devon and Cornwall. In Devon the cream goes on first and the jam on top; in Cornwall it's the other way round, and the argument never ends. These scones are plain and light so the cream and jam shine. Chef's tip: cut straight down with the cutter and don't twist it, or the scones rise lopsided.

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Singin' hinnies

Singin' hinnies are the girdle cakes of Northumberland and Tyneside, named for the singing hiss of the butter as they cook ('hinny' is a Geordie word of affection, like 'honey'). Mothers made them for children coming home from school, cooked on a heavy griddle and eaten hot, split and buttered. They are scone dough studded with currants and cooked in the pan instead of the oven. Chef's tip: keep the heat medium-low so they cook through before the outside darkens.

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Bubble and squeak

Bubble and squeak is what English households, especially in London, make on Boxing Day and Monday mornings from the Sunday roast's leftover potatoes and greens. It's named for the noise it makes in the pan. The mash and cabbage or sprouts are fried until a deep brown crust forms, then turned and crisped again. Serve with a fried egg and brown sauce. Chef's tip: press it flat and leave it alone in the pan; the crust only forms if you don't keep stirring.

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Summer pudding

Summer pudding is the high-summer pudding of English country gardens, made when redcurrants, raspberries and blackcurrants ripen together in July. Slices of day-old white bread line a basin and soak up the juices of lightly cooked berries overnight, turning a deep crimson and setting into a dome. Serve with cream (or a plant cream for a vegan pudding). Chef's tip: keep back a few spoonfuls of juice to paint over any white patches after turning it out.

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CranachanOat, raspberry and whisky cream dessert

Cranachan began as a harvest-home dessert in the Highlands, made when the raspberries ripened in June and July, and it is now served on Burns Night and at Scottish weddings. Layers of whipped cream sweetened with heather honey, toasted pinhead or rolled oats and fresh raspberries make it crunchy, rich and sharp all at once. The traditional splash of Scotch whisky contains alcohol; for an alcohol-free version use a few drops of vanilla and a squeeze of orange juice instead. Chef's tip: toast the oats until they smell nutty and look golden; raw oats taste floury.

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Eton mess

Eton mess is served at Eton College's cricket match against Harrow each June, and it has become the English summer pudding for picnics and garden parties when strawberries are at their best. Crushed meringue, whipped cream and macerated strawberries are folded together at the last moment, so you get crunch, cream and juice in every spoonful. Chef's tip: fold it together just before serving; if it sits, the meringue dissolves into the cream.

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