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Chilcano de pescadoClear fish broth

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.

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Tallarines rojosSpaghetti in red sauce with chicken

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.

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TopfengolatschenSweet quark puff pastry squares

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.

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Belgian frangipane tartlets

Look in the glass counter of a Flemish bakery and between the rice tarts and cream puffs sit rows of frangipanetaartjes: small shortcrust cases with a hidden layer of apricot jam, filled with almond frangipane and glazed with a thin, crackly white icing. Belgians pick them up on Saturday mornings or for a birthday at the office and eat them with coffee. They are buttery, nutty and moist, with a sharp fruity note from the jam. Too much jam is the mistake to watch: it bubbles up through the frangipane and glues the tartlets to the tin. Chef's tip: brush the warm tartlets with hot apricot jam first and let it set before the icing goes on; the jam seals the surface so the glaze stays white and shiny.

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Chicharrón de pescadoCrisp fried fish chunks

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.

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Pejerrey arrebozadoBattered fish fillets with onion salsa

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.

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Chochos con tostadoLupin bean and toasted corn salad

On street corners in Quito and Latacunga vendors pile paper cups with chochos, the pale Andean lupin beans, tossed with lime-soaked red onion and tomato and showered with crunchy toasted corn. It is a cheap, filling mid-morning snack, sour and salty with a nutty crunch, and it doubles as a light lunch with a fried plantain on the side. Buy chochos ready debittered, sold cooked in jars or vacuum packs: raw lupins are bitter and contain toxic alkaloids until they have been soaked and boiled for several days, so never use dried ones without that long treatment. Lupin is also a declared allergen and can affect people with peanut allergy. The common mistake is skipping the rinse, which leaves the beans tasting of brine. Chef's tip: salt the onion with the lime juice 10 minutes ahead so it softens and turns pink.

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Ají de papalisaUlluco in yellow chilli

Papalisa, the glossy pink-and-yellow tuber called ulluco in Peru, has a crisp, slightly slippery bite that holds up beautifully in this ají from the La Paz highlands. The tubers are cut into fine sticks and stewed with onion, tomato and yellow chilli until tender, then served with white rice and a boiled potato. Highland cooks often add shredded dried beef; this vegan version keeps all the flavour with extra onion and cumin. Look for papalisa fresh or in jars in Latin American shops; waxy new potatoes cut the same way are a fair stand-in. The mistake most people make is skipping the soaking and rinsing, which leaves the sauce gummy. Chef's tip: cut the papalisa into matchsticks as thin as you can, so they soak up the chilli sauce like noodles.

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Empanadas de vientoFried cheese empanadas

In Quito cafés and markets, empanadas de viento ("wind empanadas") are fried to order: big, thin pastries stuffed with crumbled fresh cheese and onion that puff up like balloons in the hot oil, then get a generous shower of sugar. Ecuadorians eat them for breakfast or afternoon cafecito with coffee or a mug of colada morada. The salty-sweet contrast is the point. The common mistake is overfilling; too much cheese stops them puffing and makes them burst. Some queso fresco is made with animal rennet; choose a vegetarian one made with microbial rennet. Chef's tip: roll the dough very thin, under 2 mm, and press the edges firmly; that's what traps the steam and makes the "wind".

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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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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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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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Ají de tomate de árbolTamarillo chilli sauce

No Ecuadorian table in the Sierra, from Quito to Cuenca, is complete without a small bowl of ají, and the tamarillo version is the household favourite. Tomate de árbol, the egg-shaped, wine-red tree tomato, is blanched and peeled, blended with fresh hot chilli, salt and a little water, then finished with finely chopped onion and fresh coriander. It is spooned over locro de papa, llapingachos, empanadas de viento, hornado and fritada at the long Sunday family lunch, and onto everything at the street stalls of the Saturday markets. The flavour is tangy, fruity and slightly bitter-sweet, more sour than a tomato salsa, with a fresh bite of onion and a clean chilli heat. The common mistake is blending the tamarillos with their skins on, which makes the sauce bitter; blanch them until the skins split and slip off. It is ready when it is bright orange-red, loose and juicy, and the onion is still crisp. Abroad, tamarillos turn up in larger supermarkets; ripe plum tomatoes with the pulp of a passion fruit are the best stand-in. Chef's tip: rinse the chopped onion in salted water first, which tames its sharpness, as Ecuadorians do.

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Arroz con queso cruceñoCreamy baked cheese rice

Lunch tables in Santa Cruz and Beni regularly carry a dish of arroz con queso next to the grilled meat: rice cooked soft and stirred with milk, butter and plenty of crumbled lowland cheese, then baked until the top turns golden. Cruceño cooks serve it with fried plantain and a tomato salad. Local cheese is usually made with animal rennet, so use a vegetarian mild Cheddar or a feta-style cheese if you need one. The most common mistake is draining the rice; it needs its starch to turn creamy. Chef's tip: hold back a third of the cheese and scatter it on top just before baking, so you get a melted core and a browned crust.

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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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Ají de arvejasPeas and potatoes in chilli sauce

Ají de arvejas is a homely Bolivian stew from La Paz and Cochabamba, cooked for weekday lunch or on Fridays and in Lent, when many families eat no meat. Green peas and potatoes simmer in a golden sauce of onion, tomato and ají amarillo (yellow chilli), and cubes of fresh white cheese are stirred in at the end so they soften without melting away. It is served with plain white rice and sometimes a boiled egg. Bolivian queso fresco is often made with animal rennet; for vegetarians, use a paneer or a fresh cheese labelled vegetarian. The usual mistake is boiling the cheese, which turns it rubbery. Chef's tip: cook the ají paste with the onion until it darkens slightly, which takes the raw edge off the chilli.

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