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Kletskoppen

Kletskoppen are the lacy, crackly biscuits of Bruges, sold in the old city's bakeries and served with coffee in the cafés around the Markt: brown sugar, butter and chopped almonds with very little flour (this version uses none), baked until they spread into thin, see-through, toffee-flavoured lace. A common mistake is putting them too close on the tray; they spread enormously and join up. Chef's tip: let them cool for a minute on the tray before lifting, and drape them over a rolling pin while still warm if you want curved tuiles.

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Lukken

Lukken are paper-thin, crisp waffle biscuits baked in West Flanders, around Kortrijk and Roeselare, in the days before New Year, when children go from house to house wishing neighbours a happy new year and are rewarded with them. They are made in a special iron that presses a fine pattern; a pizzelle iron or a thin-waffle (gaufrette) iron works. A common mistake is using too much batter, which makes them thick and soft. Chef's tip: use only a teaspoon of dough per biscuit and roll them while warm if you like, for 'rolled lukken'.

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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.

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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.

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Jan in de zak

Jan in de zak, 'John in the bag', is the old Flemish farmhouse pudding cooked for Shrove Tuesday and winter Sundays in West and East Flanders: a soft yeasted dough with raisins and currants tied up in a floured cloth and boiled for hours, then sliced and fried in butter and eaten with brown sugar or treacle. It is the Flemish cousin of Dutch 'Jan in de zak'. A common mistake is tying the cloth tightly, which leaves no room for the pudding to swell and makes it dense. Chef's tip: tie the cloth loosely, leaving room for the dough to double, and keep the water at a steady simmer.

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Filet américain

Despite its name, filet américain is a Belgian classic, served in Brussels brasseries with a mound of fries, or spread on a baguette as the famous 'broodje américain': very fresh lean beef, finely minced and mixed with mayonnaise, mustard, capers, chopped onion, parsley and a dash of Worcestershire sauce and Tabasco, so it is creamy and tangy. The beef is eaten raw, so it is not for pregnant women, young children or anyone with a weakened immune system. Buy a whole piece of the freshest steak from a trusted butcher, trim it and mince it yourself just before serving; never use ready-minced beef. A common mistake is preparing it in advance; make it and eat it at once. Chef's tip: chill the meat and the bowl well and mix with a fork, not a processor, so it stays loose. Use shop-bought mayonnaise, which is made with pasteurised egg.

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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.

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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.

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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 minLaoSaladsGluten free
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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.

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Escavèche

Escavèche is a speciality of the Chimay and Couvin area in southern Wallonia, a legacy of Spanish rule in the 16th century: fish fillets, traditionally eel or pike, fried and then covered with a hot marinade of vinegar, onion, thyme and bay that sets into a clear, tangy jelly as it cools. It is eaten cold, sliced, with crisp fries, in the brasseries of the Botte du Hainaut. A common mistake is not cooking the fish through before it goes into the marinade; cold marinade does not cook it. Chef's tip: let it set for at least 12 hours in the fridge; the vinegar mellows and the jelly firms. The fish should be opaque and flaking before marinating.

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Cougnou

Cougnou, also called cougnolle or bommetje, is the Christmas bread of Wallonia, given to children on Christmas morning: a soft brioche shaped like the infant Jesus in swaddling clothes, with a little clay or sugar medallion pressed into the middle, eaten with hot chocolate. Bakeries in Namur and Charleroi make them from early December. A common mistake is shaping them too small, which dries them in the oven. Chef's tip: make three balls, one large for the body and two small for the head and feet, pressed together tightly so they bake as one.

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Mitraillette

The mitraillette, 'submachine gun', is the overloaded sandwich of Brussels friteries, eaten after football or a night out: half a baguette split and stuffed with a hot meat patty or sausage, a heap of double-fried Belgian fries, lettuce and tomato, and a generous squeeze of sauce, usually andalouse, samurai or mayonnaise. It is messy and huge. This version uses a homemade beef burger. A common mistake is fries that are not crisp, which go soggy in the bread. Chef's tip: fry the chips twice, first at 160 °C until soft, then at 180 °C until golden, the Belgian way. Beef burgers must reach 71 °C in the middle.

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Cramique

Cramique is the Sunday breakfast loaf of Brussels and Wallonia: a soft, golden brioche packed with raisins, bought from the bakery on Sunday morning and sliced thickly with salted butter. Its sister, craquelin, swaps the raisins for pearl sugar. A common mistake is adding the raisins at the start of kneading, which tears the gluten and turns the dough grey. Chef's tip: soak the raisins in warm tea for 20 minutes, then knead them in only at the end, gently.

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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 minLaoSoupsVeganGluten free
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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.

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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.

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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 minLaoSoupsGluten free
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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 minLaoSaladsGluten freeSpicy
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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 minLaoSaladsGluten free
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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.

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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 minLaoDrinksGluten free
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Garnaalkroketten

Along the Flemish coast, from De Panne to Knokke, the North Sea grey shrimp is king, and garnaalkroketten are the dish every seaside restaurant is judged by: a molten, creamy shrimp-flavoured béchamel packed with little brown shrimps, set firm, crumbed and fried until golden, served with fried parsley and lemon. In Oostduinkerke, shrimp fishers on horseback still drag their nets through the shallows. A common mistake is a béchamel that isn't thick enough, so the croquettes burst in the oil. Chef's tip: make a strong shrimp stock from the shells, if you have them, for the béchamel, and chill the mix overnight so it is firm to shape. The shrimp are already cooked; fry until golden and hot through.

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Couque de Dinant

Couques de Dinant are the famously hard honey biscuits of Dinant on the Meuse, made only of flour and honey, pressed into carved wooden moulds showing castles, animals and the town's skyline, and baked so hot that the honey caramelises into a very hard, glossy biscuit. Dinant bakers say they keep for years; locals let a piece melt slowly in the mouth rather than biting. Honey is traditional; golden syrup makes a vegan version. A common mistake is a soft dough; it must be stiff enough to hold the mould's detail. Chef's tip: dust the mould with flour, press hard and tap the dough out sharply.

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