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Asado uruguayo

Sunday in Uruguay means asado: in Montevideo backyards and the cattle towns of the interior, beef ribs (asado de tira), chorizo and morcilla cook slowly over the embers of a wood fire, with only coarse salt, while the family waits. The parrillero rakes coals under the grill and keeps the heat low and even. This recipe includes pork chorizo. The mistake is cooking over flames; the fire should burn down to embers you can hold your hand above for 6–8 seconds. Chef's tip: salt the meat only when it goes on the grill, with coarse salt, never fine.

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Aloo achar

Aloo ko achar is the potato salad of Nepal, but tangy, nutty and hot rather than creamy. Boiled potatoes are tossed with ground toasted sesame, lemon juice, green chilli and timur, then finished with mustard oil in which fenugreek seeds have been fried dark. You find it everywhere: in tiffin boxes on the way to school, at picnics and on the long leaf plates of Newar feasts, alongside beaten rice and spicy beans, and it is a fixture at Dashain and Tihar gatherings when food has to sit out for hours. It keeps well, and the flavour improves after a rest. Dressing the potatoes while still hot is the usual mistake: they soak it up and turn mushy, so let them cool first. Chef's tip: toast the sesame until it just starts to pop and smells like popcorn, then grind it to a coarse sandy powder; it thickens the dressing and gives the salad its nuttiness.

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Golbheda ko achar

No momo is served in Nepal without a small bowl of golbheda ko achar, and no dal bhat feels complete without a dab of it on the side. Tomatoes (golbheda) are charred over a flame or on a dry griddle until black-blistered and soft, then pounded with garlic, green chilli and timur, the citrusy Nepali pepper that leaves a buzz on the tongue. Grandmothers grind it on the flat stone silauto; a blender or mortar does the job at home. It is smoky, sour and hot, and is made fresh in most kitchens every day or two. A spoonful of toasted sesame or soybean powder thickens the version served with momos in Kathmandu. Don't purée it smooth: the skins and seeds give it its rustic body. Chef's tip: char the garlic and chillies beside the tomatoes; their sharp edge softens and the achar tastes sweeter and deeper.

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Bara

Bara, or wo in the Newar language, is a thick, savoury pancake of ground black lentils that the Newar people of the Kathmandu Valley have made for centuries. It is cooked on a flat griddle until spotted brown and lacy at the edges but soft and airy inside. It is festival food above all: it appears at Sithi Nakha in early summer, on the plates of Newar feasts and at roadside stalls in Kirtipur and Patan, where it is often topped with a cracked egg. This plant-based version keeps it plain, with ginger, garlic and cumin in the batter. Eat it hot with golbheda ko achar. The usual mistake is to add too much water when grinding: the batter must be thick enough to hold a peak, or the bara spread thin and go flat. Chef's tip: beat the ground batter by hand for 3–4 minutes until it turns pale and fluffy; the air you whip in is what makes the bara light.

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Chatamari

Chatamari is a thin, round crêpe of rice flour that Newar cooks in Patan, Bhaktapur and old Kathmandu make on a covered griddle, so the topping steams on top while the base turns crisp underneath. It is sometimes called Newari pizza, which says something about how it's eaten: cut into wedges, hot, and shared. It is a festival and teahouse snack, served at Newar feasts and in the small eateries around Patan Durbar Square. The classic topping is a cracked egg spread over the batter with onion, tomato and coriander, and this vegetarian version keeps the egg; leave it out and add more vegetables if you prefer. The common mistake is to pour the batter too thick; it should be as thin as single cream so it cooks through before the edges burn. Chef's tip: swirl the batter with the back of a ladle in a spiral from the centre outwards, so it sets in an even, lacy layer.

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Yomari

Yomari are the sweet dumplings of the Newars of the Kathmandu Valley, made once a year on Yomari Punhi, the full moon of December that marks the end of the rice harvest. Freshly milled rice flour is kneaded with hot water, pinched into a hollow cone, filled with chaku, a dark, fudgy Newari molasses, and toasted sesame, then shaped with a pointed tail like a fish or a teardrop and steamed. Children go from house to house singing for them, and families offer a few to the gods before anyone eats. The shell is soft and slightly chewy, and the filling melts into warm, smoky caramel. The usual mistake is mixing the dough with lukewarm water: it must be just off the boil so the starch swells and the dough stretches without cracking. Chef's tip: keep a bowl of warm water beside you and dip your fingertips often; damp hands smooth out cracks as you shape.

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Kwati

Kwati is a thick, warming soup of nine kinds of sprouted beans that the Newar families of the Kathmandu Valley cook on Janai Purnima, the August full moon also called Kwati Punhi, when the monsoon is at its height and people are said to need strength against the damp. The mix usually includes black gram, green mung, chickpeas, soybeans, field peas, kidney beans, cowpeas, field beans and rice beans, soaked and sprouted for two or three days beforehand, then cooked with ajwain, ginger, garlic, tomato and a pinch of timur. Markets in Asan sell ready-mixed kwati beans in the week before the festival. It is eaten in bowls with beaten rice or simply on its own. The mistake people make is skipping the sprouting, which leaves the soup heavy and the beans hard. Chef's tip: fry the ajwain until it crackles; its thyme-like warmth makes the beans easier to digest and is the flavour of the festival.

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Sel roti

When Tihar, the five-day festival of lights, arrives in late autumn, kitchens all over Nepal fill with the smell of sel roti: big, thin rings of sweetened rice batter fried in hot oil until crisp and russet outside and soft and slightly chewy inside. They are stacked high to offer to the gods, to sisters during Bhai Tika and to every guest, and they are also made at Dashain and for weddings, travelling well and keeping for days. Rice is soaked overnight and ground with sugar into a thick, pourable batter, then poured by hand in one confident circle into the oil. Many families add ghee to the batter, which makes the rings richer but means they are vegetarian rather than vegan; this version uses oil. The common mistake is oil that is not hot enough, so the batter drinks fat and turns greasy. Chef's tip: let the batter rest for an hour after grinding; it thickens and ferments slightly, and the rings puff and hold their shape better.

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Juju dhau

Juju dhau means king of curds in the Newar language, and it belongs to Bhaktapur, the old brick-and-temple city east of Kathmandu, where it is sold in round clay bowls from shops around Durbar Square and taken home by the stack. Full-fat milk, traditionally buffalo milk, is boiled down by a third until it is rich and faintly caramel, sweetened, then set overnight in unglazed clay pots that soak up the whey, leaving a custard-thick, creamy yogurt with a pale golden skin. No wedding, festival or important meal in the Valley ends without it, and it is eaten on its own with a small spoon. People often rush the reduction, and the yogurt then sets thin and sour. Chef's tip: if you don't have clay pots, set it in ceramic ramekins and pour off any whey after setting; and keep it warm and undisturbed, wrapped in a blanket, so it sets in one smooth layer.

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Choila

Choila belongs to the Newar community of the Kathmandu Valley, where it is served at festivals like Dashain and at feasts in Bhaktapur and Patan, alongside beaten rice (chiura) and a glass of something strong. Traditionally it is water buffalo, grilled over straw so the meat tastes smoky, then tossed while warm with raw mustard oil, garlic, ginger, chilli and a sizzling fenugreek tempering. This version uses chicken thighs, with buffalo or beef as an option, and it is always fully cooked before tossing. Serve it as a starter or snack with chiura and pickled radish. Chef's tip: let the mustard-oil tempering smoke for a few seconds before pouring it over; the hot oil loses its raw bite and coats the meat with a nutty, pungent flavour.

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Sekuwa

Dharan, in Nepal's eastern hills, is famous for its 'sekuwa corner', a lane of smoky grills where families and friends gather in the evening for spiced goat, chicken and pork skewers fresh off the fire. The meat is marinated in a dry-ish paste of garlic, ginger, cumin, chilli and timur (Nepali Sichuan pepper), with a little mustard oil, then grilled until charred at the edges. It is the classic picnic and party food, eaten with puffed rice, a tomato-sesame achar and sliced onion. This recipe uses lamb or mutton shoulder in place of goat. Chef's tip: soak wooden skewers for 30 minutes and leave a little space between the pieces so the heat reaches all sides.

40 minNepaliMeatGluten freeSpicy
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Sopa paraguaya

Paraguayans love telling visitors that their national 'soup' is eaten with a fork: sopa paraguaya is a dense, moist cornbread baked with sweated onions, fresh cheese, eggs and milk. It's on every table at asados, weddings and the Christmas meal, and sold in squares at bus stations from Asunción to Encarnación. The crust is golden and the inside soft and cheesy, more like a savoury pudding than bread. Chef's tip: soak the cornmeal in the milk for 15 minutes before mixing; hydrated cornmeal bakes up tender instead of gritty.

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Chipa

In Paraguay you hear 'chipa, chipa!' called by vendors with big baskets on buses and street corners, and every family bakes it for Holy Week, when chipa is the food of Good Friday. Cassava starch, a little cornmeal, butter, eggs and a lot of hard cheese are kneaded into a dough scented with aniseed, shaped into rings or small rolls and baked in a hot oven, traditionally a domed clay tatakua. It's chewy, crisp outside and best warm with cocido (toasted yerba tea). Chef's tip: the dough should feel soft and slightly greasy; add milk a spoon at a time, as too much makes the chipa spread flat.

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Mbejú

Mbejú (say 'mbeh-JOO') is a Guaraní breakfast and merienda: cassava starch rubbed with butter, cheese and a little milk into damp crumbs, then pressed into a hot pan where it fuses into a thick, chewy, crisp-edged cake. It's eaten in the countryside with cocido (sweet toasted yerba tea with milk) on cool mornings, cut into wedges. It's naturally gluten free and very quick. Chef's tip: the mix should look like damp sand, not a dough; if you can squeeze a handful and it just holds, it's right.

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Chipa guasu

Chipa guasu (Guaraní for 'big chipa') is sopa paraguaya's softer cousin, made from fresh corn instead of cornmeal. The kernels are grated or blended into a milky purée and baked with onion, cheese and whipped eggs into a tender, gently sweet bake that rises and wobbles. It's a summer dish at Paraguayan asados and fiestas patronales (saints' days), eaten beside grilled meat or simply with a tomato salad. Chef's tip: fold in the whisked egg whites last; it's what makes chipa guasu light and puffed rather than dense.

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Vegetarian vori vori

Vori vori is the soup Paraguayan grandmothers make on cold June and July evenings: a golden broth full of bori, small balls of cornmeal and cheese that swell soft as they simmer. The name is a Guaraní take on the Spanish 'bolita' (little ball). It's usually made with hen; this version gets its colour and body from pumpkin, carrot and a sofrito with saffron or turmeric. Chef's tip: shape the balls no bigger than a hazelnut; they double in size and larger ones stay raw inside.

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Chajá

Chajá was created in 1927 at a bakery in Paysandú, a city on the Uruguay River, and named after a local bird whose feathers look as fluffy as its crumbly meringue coat. Today it's Uruguay's birthday and celebration cake: layers of light sponge soaked in peach syrup, filled with whipped cream, peaches and dulce de leche, then covered in crushed meringue. It's sweet, soft and crunchy at once, best on the day it's assembled. Chef's tip: soak the sponge but not too much; it should feel moist, not wet, or the layers slide.

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Torta frita

In Uruguay, a grey rainy afternoon has one answer: torta frita and mate. These thin discs of dough, pierced with a hole in the middle, are fried until puffed and golden and either sprinkled with sugar or eaten plain, still hot, between sips passed around the circle. In Montevideo you'll smell them from street stalls on wet days; at home they're made with butter or beef fat, here with butter. Chef's tip: the hole in the middle isn't decoration; it lets the centre cook through at the same speed as the edges.

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Pastel mandi'o

Pastel mandi'o are the golden half-moons sold at bus stations and street stalls all over Paraguay, especially in Asunción and around Holy Week: a soft dough of cooked cassava (mandi'o in Guaraní) and a little corn flour, wrapped round minced beef with onion, pepper, boiled egg and cumin, then fried. The mistake is a wet cassava dough that sticks and tears; drain the cassava well and add starch until it is smooth and pliable. Chef's tip: shape them between two sheets of cling film, which stops the soft dough sticking to the worktop.

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Chivito

The chivito was created in the 1940s at a restaurant in Punta del Este, Uruguay, and became the national sandwich: a soft roll filled with thin, tender steak, ham, melted mozzarella, a fried egg, bacon, lettuce, tomato, olives and mayonnaise. It is eaten in Montevideo's parrillas and corner bars with chips on the side. This sandwich contains pork. The mistake is a thick, chewy steak: use thinly sliced sirloin and sear it fast. Chef's tip: toast the cut sides of the rolls so they stand up to all the juices.

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So'o yosopy

So'o yosopy, "pounded meat" in Guaraní, is a soup Paraguayans make for anyone who is tired or recovering, and on cold days in Asunción's winter: beef is ground very finely and stirred into cold water so it breaks into soft, delicate threads, then simmered with onion, tomato, pepper and a little rice and oregano. The texture is smooth and the broth light. The mistake is adding the beef to boiling water, which makes it clump into meatballs; mix it into cold water first and stir as it heats. Chef's tip: ask the butcher to mince lean beef twice, or pulse it very fine in a food processor.

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Nakuru-style sizzler

A complete barbecue meal on one big tawa: a tangy wheat and vegetable mix with three chutneys, crisp cheesy corn balls, baked stuffed capsicums and creamy cheesy pasta, all sizzling under hot barbecue sauce. Every part can be made ahead and finished on the jiko. It's a healthy and filling meal by itself.

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Chinese tawa potatoes

An Indo-Chinese favourite from the barbecue tawa: crisp fried potato chips tossed with garlic, ginger, soy sauce, ketchup and plenty of chillies and spring onion, then glazed with a little cornflour sauce. Sticky, salty and hot. Serve straight away as a starter.

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Dal bhat

Across Nepal, from Terai farmhouses to trekking lodges below Everest, dal bhat is not a dish so much as the meal itself, eaten twice a day, late morning and early evening, often with the words "dal bhat power, 24 hour". The plate is always the same idea: a mound of plain rice (bhat), a thin, soupy lentil dal scented with jimbu (a dried Himalayan allium) fried in ghee, a dry vegetable tarkari, a little stir-fried greens when there are some, and a sharp spoonful of achar. You pour the dal over the rice and mix it by hand, a little at a time, with bites of curry and pickle. Most newcomers make the dal too thick; Nepali dal should run off the spoon like a light soup so it soaks the rice. Chef's tip: fry the jimbu in the hot ghee only until it darkens a shade and smells of garlicky onion, about 10 seconds, then pour it straight into the dal and cover the pan to trap the aroma.

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