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Pain maisonCrusty bread rolls

Every morning in Port Louis, Mahébourg and Rose-Hill, the boulangerie or a man on a bicycle delivers bags of pain maison: small, round white rolls with a thin, crackly crust and soft middle, split and filled with butter and cheese, with chilli-spiked gâteaux piments, or with leftover curry. They're a simple lean dough baked very hot. The common mistake is under-baking because they look golden early; give them the full time so the crust stays crisp after cooling. Chef's tip: spray the oven walls with water as the rolls go in; the burst of steam makes the shiny, cracked crust.

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Glaçon râpéShaved ice with syrups

On a hot Sunday at Flic en Flac or Mon Choisy, families queue at the glaçon râpé man, who shaves a block of ice into a cup, then pours over bright red and green syrups and, if you ask, a thick ribbon of sweetened condensed milk. The ice should be fluffy and dry like fresh snow, so the syrup sinks in and streaks the colours together, and the condensed milk turns the bottom of the cup into a sweet, milky slush. A home blender makes a fine version if the ice is very cold; the common mistake is using ice straight from a bag that has half-thawed, which turns to watery slush. Chef's tip: put the cups and the blender jug in the freezer for 20 minutes first, then pulse in short bursts rather than running the motor.

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Jugo surtidoMixed fruit juice

Step up to any juguería in Lima's Mercado de Surquillo or a barrio market at breakfast time and order a surtido: the juicer drops papaya, banana, pineapple and freshly squeezed orange into a tall blender, sometimes a slice of cooked beetroot for colour or a splash of milk, and pours you a big glass with the rest left in the jug for your 'yapa', the free refill. It is thick but still pourable, sweet from ripe fruit with a sharp orange edge, the kind of drink that stands in for breakfast before a long day. The common mistake is adding lots of ice and water, which makes it thin and frothy rather than velvety. Use cold fruit and freshly squeezed orange juice as the liquid. It is ready when it coats the glass and no lumps of banana are left. This version is fruit only; stalls also make it with milk if you prefer. Drink it straight away: papaya and banana go brown and bitter within half an hour. Chef's tip: use very ripe papaya with orange flesh; under-ripe papaya tastes of nothing and gives a faintly bitter aftertaste.

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Saffron rijstpapSaffron rice porridge

Flemish rijstpap, rice slowly cooked in milk until thick and creamy, is a breakfast, a pudding and a childhood memory, and in East and West Flanders it is coloured golden with saffron and eaten with a spoonful of brown sugar. Old Flemish sayings even promise that in heaven you eat rijstpap with golden spoons. The mistake is cooking it too fast: the milk catches on the bottom and the rice stays chalky, so keep it at the barest simmer and stir often. Chef's tip: use round pudding rice, not long-grain, because its starch is what makes the porridge thick and silky without any cream.

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Gâteau arouilleTaro fritters

Glass cases on street carts outside bus stations from Curepipe to Port Louis are piled with fritters, and the craggy, golden gâteau arouille is the one with the shaggy edges and the soft, almost creamy middle. Grated taro (arouille, also sold as eddo or dasheen) is bound with a spoon of rice flour, spring onion and chilli, then dropped into hot oil, where the strands turn crunchy. They are eaten warm from a paper bag with a dab of chilli paste or a coconut chatini, often as an afternoon snack. Taro must be cooked right through, as raw taro irritates the mouth; the common mistake is oil that is too hot, which browns the outside while the centre stays raw and gluey. Chef's tip: wear gloves or oil your hands before grating, because raw taro makes the skin itch for an hour.

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Boulettes chouchouChayote dumplings in broth

The boulette stalls of Port Louis's Chinatown and the night market at Rose-Hill steam trays of little dumplings to order, and diners point at what they want, then get a bowl of clear broth ladled over and a spoon of chilli on the side. Fish, crab and chicken boulettes are on offer too, but chayote ones are the favourite of many: grated chouchou bound with cornflour into soft, slightly bouncy, translucent balls that taste fresh and sweet. This version is fully vegetarian, with a vegetable broth flavoured with ginger, garlic, soy sauce and sesame oil. The mistake that ruins them is skipping the squeeze, because chayote is full of water and the balls slump into a puddle in the steamer. Chef's tip: wring the grated chayote in a clean tea towel until almost no more drips come out, then keep that juice to add to the broth.

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Escabeche de pescadoFried fish in sweet-sour onion sauce

In Lima, escabeche de pescado belongs to the criollo kitchen of the old city: it turns up on Friday lunch menus, on buffet tables, and above all in Lent and Holy Week, when families eat fish and this dish can be made the day before. Fish is fried until golden, then covered in a warm sauce of thick-cut red onion softened in oil with garlic, ají amarillo, ají panca, cumin and vinegar, and left to cool so the flavours soak in. It is served cold or at room temperature with boiled sweet potato, hard-boiled egg and purple botija olives. It tastes tangy, sweet and gently fruity-hot, with crunchy onion over tender fish. The fish here is fully cooked, but because it is a cold seafood dish, pregnant people, babies, older people and anyone with weak immunity should eat it well chilled and within 2 days. Common mistake: stewing the onions until limp; they should only lose their raw bite. It is ready when the sauce has soaked a little into the fish and smells of vinegar and toasted chilli. Chef's tip: use thick fillets of corvina or bonito; thin fillets break under the sauce.

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Jugo de macaWarm maca drink

Before dawn at markets in Huancayo, Cusco and Lima, juice ladies ladle hot jugo de maca from big pots for workers on their way in: maca root, a turnip relative grown above 4,000 metres in the Junín highlands, simmered with milk, cinnamon and cloves and sweetened with honey or sugar. It tastes malty and toasty, a bit like butterscotch. The common mistake is stirring the powder straight into hot milk, which leaves gritty lumps; whisk it into a little cold milk first. Maca is not usually advised in pregnancy, so ask your doctor first if you are pregnant. Chef's tip: use gelatinised (cooked) maca powder if you can find it; it dissolves smoothly and is gentler on the stomach.

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Mate de muñaAndean mint tea

Muña is the minty shrub that grows wild on the slopes around Cusco, Puno and the Sacred Valley, and highland cooks reach for it after a heavy meal of chicharrón or when visitors are struggling with the altitude. Market herb sellers sell it in fresh bunches, and hotels and homes leave it in a flask for anyone coming in from the cold evenings. Steeped simply in hot water, it smells somewhere between spearmint, oregano and pennyroyal, with a cooling, slightly peppery taste and a pale green-gold colour. It is traditionally drunk to settle the stomach. The usual mistake is boiling the leaves hard for a long time, which turns the tea brown and bitter. Pour water just off the boil over the sprigs, cover, and let it steep. It is ready when the cup is pale gold and the aroma rises as soon as you lift the lid. Outside Peru, look for dried muña in Latin shops; failing that, use mostly spearmint with a little fresh oregano. Muña is strong: avoid large amounts in pregnancy, and check with a doctor if you take regular medication. Chef's tip: cover the cup while it steeps so the scented oils stay in the tea.

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PistoletsCrusty bread rolls

In Brussels and all over Belgium, someone in the family goes to the bakery early on Sunday morning to bring home a paper bag of warm pistolets, the small round rolls with a split down the middle. They are eaten at a long breakfast with butter, jam, chocolate spread, cheese and boiled eggs. The crust shatters and the crumb is light and open. The common mistake is baking in a dry oven, which gives a dull, thick crust; a pan of boiling water in the oven makes the thin, crackly bakery crust. Chef's tip: press the split with a floured wooden spoon handle right after shaping, not just before baking, and it opens cleanly in the oven.

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Kari gros poisButter bean curry

In Mauritius, gros pois (butter beans) are a pantry staple, and kari gros pois is cooked in Creole and Indo-Mauritian homes alike for weekday lunches and Friday meat-free meals. The beans simmer in a curry of onion, tomato, garlic and ginger, flavoured with curry powder, fresh thyme and curry leaves, so it tastes of both India and the island's French side. It is served with rice, farata flatbreads and a tomato or chilli chutney. The usual mistake is frying the curry powder on high heat; it scorches in seconds and turns bitter. Pressure cooker option: cook the soaked beans for 15 minutes at pressure. Chef's tip: crush a few beans into the sauce at the end, which thickens it without any flour.

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Mauritian vanilla tea

In Mauritius the kettle goes on for dité at breakfast and again at four, when the heat of the day breaks and someone brings out gato piment, a packet of biscuits or a slice of gato patate. The tea is grown on the island's central plateau, around Curepipe and the Bois Chéri hills, and the local favourite is black tea perfumed with vanilla, the same vanilla that grows on the neighbouring islands. It is drunk strong, very sweet and milky, often with evaporated or condensed milk: a round, creamy cup with a soft caramel-vanilla scent and no bitterness. The common mistake is boiling the tea leaves with the milk until they stew; brew the tea in water first, then add hot milk. It is ready when the tea is the colour of milky caramel and the kitchen smells of vanilla. A cup has about as much caffeine as ordinary black tea. If you cannot find vanilla-scented Mauritian tea, a strong black tea and a split vanilla pod do the job well. Chef's tip: dry the used vanilla pod and bury it in your sugar jar; next time the sugar alone will scent the tea.

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Bouillon brèdeGreens broth

Ask a Mauritian what they eat when they are tired or under the weather and the answer is often a bowl of bouillon brède: a clear, gingery broth with soft greens, poured over plain rice next to a fried fish or a dish of lentils. The greens change with the market, from petsai (Chinese leaves) to watercress, pak choi or the leaves of the chayote vine, and the broth is never thickened, so it stays clean and almost sweet. It is done in under twenty minutes, which is why it turns up on so many weeknight tables from Rose-Hill to Mahébourg. People often boil the greens until they turn khaki and stringy; add them at the end and stop as soon as the stems are just tender. Chef's tip: crush the garlic and ginger, don't chop them, and fry them for just a minute so the broth smells warm without turning brown.

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Bred songeBraised taro leaves

Songe is the island's name for the taro plant, and its big heart-shaped leaves end up in many Creole and Indo-Mauritian kitchens on a weekday night, braised down into a dark, silky tangle that tastes somewhere between spinach and artichoke. Buy the leaves from an Indian or Asian grocer, where they are sold as arbi or patra leaves; never pick them wild. Raw taro leaves contain needle-like crystals that make the mouth and throat prickle, and the commonest mistake is pulling them off the heat too soon, so they are blanched first and then cooked until completely soft, with a little tamarind to help. Spoon it next to rice, dholl and a fresh chatini, or tuck it into a farata. Chef's tip: taste a small piece before serving; if you feel even a faint scratch at the back of the throat, cover the pan and give it another five minutes.

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Chilcano de piscoPisco and ginger ale highball

When Lima's grey winter finally lifts and summer reaches the beaches south of the city, the chilcano takes over from the pisco sour: lighter, longer and made for an afternoon. Peru even gives it a Semana del Chilcano each January, and it is poured at weekend lunches with chifa or fried fish. This is a highball for adults only: pisco poured over a tall glass of ice with fresh lime and ginger ale, finished with a few drops of bitters. It should taste crisp and fizzy, with the ginger and lime lifting the floral grape notes of the pisco rather than hiding them. The common mistake is using too little ice and warm ginger ale, which gives a sweet, diluted drink that goes flat in minutes. Fill the glass to the top with ice and keep the ginger ale in the fridge until the last second. It is ready when the glass is frosty, the bubbles race up the sides and the bitters drift through the top as a pink haze. Light it may be, but drink responsibly. Chef's tip: try a fruit-infused pisco, made by steeping passion fruit or mandarin peel in the bottle for a few days; Limeños love a chilcano de maracuyá.

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Cremolada (Lima passion fruit slush)

From January to March, when Lima's coast swelters, queues form at the cremolada counters of Barranco and along the Jirón de la Unión downtown for cups of this thick fruit ice. It sits between a granita and a sorbet: frozen fruit pulp scraped again and again until it is slushy and spoonable, with real bits of fruit through it. Passion fruit (maracuyá) gives a sharp, bright flavour; creamy lúcuma, with its maple and sweet potato taste, is the other favourite. Chef's tip: use a shallow metal tray; it freezes faster and evenly, so you get fine crystals rather than chunks.

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Ají amarillo pasteYellow chilli paste

In Lima's markets ají amarillo is sold fresh all year, and most Peruvian cooks keep a tub of this paste in the fridge the way others keep tomato purée: it is the golden base of causa limeña, ají de gallina, papa a la huancaína, chupe and the sauce for tiraditos. The chillies are seeded, de-veined and blanched in three changes of water, which tames the heat and the raw grassiness, then peeled and blended with oil into a thick, silky, saffron-orange paste. It tastes fruity and sunny, almost like apricot and passion fruit, with a rounded, medium heat. Abroad, buy whole frozen ají amarillo from Latin grocers; dried ají mirasol, soaked, gives a darker, earthier paste. Common mistake: skipping the peeling; the thin skins leave papery flecks and a bitter edge. It is ready when it is completely smooth and holds a soft peak like thick hummus. This is a low-acid paste: keep it in the fridge for a week or freeze it, never on the shelf. Chef's tip: freeze it in an ice-cube tray; one cube is about a tablespoon, just right for a pot of ají de gallina.

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Estofado de polloChicken stew

Estofado de pollo is the mild, homely chicken stew of Lima's family kitchens and school lunches, usually on the table on a weekday or a quiet Sunday with white rice. Chicken pieces are browned, then braised in a sauce of onion, garlic, tomato, a little ají panca paste and bay, with carrots, peas and yellow potatoes cooked right in the pot until the sauce is thick and orange. It is comforting rather than hot. The usual mistake is boiling it hard, which shreds the potatoes and dries the chicken; keep it at a lazy bubble. Chef's tip: use a few yellow potatoes along with waxy ones; they collapse slightly and thicken the sauce naturally.

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Pisco sour

Lima drinks its pisco sour as the aperitif before a long ceviche lunch, and celebrates it every year on the first Saturday of February; the recipe took shape in the city's bars in the 1920s. It is for adults only and stronger than its pillowy look suggests. Underneath a thick white foam you get sharp Peruvian lime, a clean sweetness and the floral, grapey warmth of quebranta pisco, with the bitters adding a spicy smell to every sip. The texture should be silky, almost creamy, never thin. The classic mistake is squeezing the limes too hard or too early: the oil from the pith turns the drink bitter within half an hour. Halve the limes, press each half gently by hand just before mixing and stop when the juice slows. The egg white is raw, so use pasteurised egg white for anyone pregnant, for babies, older people or anyone unwell, or swap in 30 ml aquafaba. It is ready when the foam stands about 1 cm high and is firm enough to hold the drops of bitters on its surface. Sip one slowly and drink responsibly. Chef's tip: shake once without ice first to whip the egg white, then again with ice; the foam will be twice as thick.

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Locro de zapallo for toddlersPumpkin stew for toddlers

Locro de zapallo is the golden pumpkin stew of Lima's home kitchens and menú lunch spots, eaten on weekdays with white rice and, for adults, a fried egg and ají on the side. For toddlers from 12 months it is cooked without any ají, the pumpkin is simmered until it melts into a sauce, and just a little crumbled fresh cheese is stirred in, so it is sweet, creamy and easy to mash. It contains milk; there is no gluten, egg, nuts or soya. Queso fresco is often made with animal rennet, so for a vegetarian bowl choose one labelled vegetarian, or use a little paneer, and always a pasteurised cheese. Chef's tip: cut half the pumpkin small so it dissolves into the sauce and the rest larger so it keeps some shape.

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Refresco de coconaCocona cooler

In Iquitos, Pucallpa and the river towns of Loreto, heat and humidity make a cold refresco part of every lunch, and cocona is one of the favourites sold from plastic jugs at the Belén market. The fruit looks like a fuzzy orange tomato and tastes between tomato, lemon and apricot: very sour, aromatic and juicy. Blended with water and sugar it makes a tangy, golden drink with a light pulp, served with juane or tacacho con cecina. The usual mistake is skipping the fuzz: cocona skin is covered in fine hairs that make the drink scratchy, so rub them off under running water before you start. Blend only briefly, too, so the many seeds do not crack. It is ready when the refresco is opaque orange, sour first and sweet after, with no grit. Outside the Amazon, look for frozen cocona pulp in Latin American shops; naranjilla (lulo) pulp is the closest substitute. Chef's tip: a pinch of salt makes the fruit taste sweeter and fruitier without more sugar.

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Caldo de gallinaHen broth with noodles

In Lima's markets and the all-night caldo stalls of districts like La Victoria, a bowl of caldo de gallina is the dawn breakfast for market porters, taxi drivers and anyone coming home late: a deep, golden broth from a slow-simmered hen (a boiling fowl) with ginger and spring onion, ladled over thick noodles and yellow potato, with a boiled egg, lime and ají chilli on the side. The common mistake is boiling the broth hard, which clouds it and toughens the meat; keep it to a lazy simmer. The chicken must reach 74 °C, though after this long simmer it will be well past that. Chef's tip: cook the noodles separately, then put them in the bowls; cooked in the pot they drink the broth and turn it starchy.

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Chicons braisésBraised endives

Belgian endive, called chicon in Wallonia and witloof in Flanders, is grown in the dark around Brussels and eaten all winter, from November to March. Braised slowly in butter with a pinch of sugar and a squeeze of lemon, the pale heads turn golden, soft and gently caramelised, with only a whisper of their raw bitterness left. Serve them beside mashed potatoes and a fried egg, or as a side for a Sunday roast. The usual mistake is crowding the pan and boiling them in their own water, which leaves them grey and bitter. Chef's tip: lay the heads in a single layer and press a round of baking paper on top, so they steam gently and then brown in the butter once the juices cook off.

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MazavarooChilli paste

Every Mauritian table has a little jar of something red, and mazavaroo is the fiercest of them: bird's-eye chillies crushed with garlic, ginger and salt, then loosened with oil so it keeps. A pinhead goes on a dholl puri, into a bowl of noodle soup or beside fried snacks from a Port Louis vendor, and a teaspoon is enough to wake up a whole pot of lentils. The flavour is sharp and bright rather than smoky, with a garlicky bite. Wear gloves, and keep your hands away from your eyes; the classic mistake is to blitz it in an open blender and breathe the spray. Chef's tip: this is garlic in oil, so keep it in a clean jar in the fridge with the oil covering the surface and use it within two weeks.

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