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Oblepikha tea (sea buckthorn tea)

Sea buckthorn grows wild along the rivers of Altai and the Baikal shore, and by October its thorny branches are crowded with tiny orange berries. Siberians freeze them by the bucketful, and all winter a glass teapot of oblepikha tea glows on café tables from Irkutsk to Moscow, ordered after skiing or against the dark afternoons. The taste is sharp and tropical, somewhere between passion fruit, pineapple and lemon, with a faint oily richness from the berries, softened by honey and warmed by ginger. The common mistake is pouring boiling water straight onto the honey and berries: it dulls the fruit, makes the honey taste flat and can turn the tea bitter. Let the kettle settle for a couple of minutes first. It is ready when the tea is a cloudy sunset orange, smells of citrus and ginger and the berries have released their juice. Outside Russia, look for frozen sea buckthorn in Eastern European or Nordic shops, or use unsweetened sea buckthorn purée. Chef's tip: crush a big batch of berries with honey, keep it in a jar in the fridge for a week, and spoon it into mugs whenever you want a cup.

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Capeletis a la Caruso

Capeletis a la Caruso were created in a Montevideo restaurant in the 1950s and named after the great tenor, and they are still a Sunday lunch favourite in Uruguayan homes: little stuffed pasta hats in a rich sauce of cream, cooked ham (pork), mushrooms and onion, finished with grated cheese. Buy good fresh capeletis or tortellini; the sauce is what you make. The usual mistake is boiling the cream sauce hard, which makes it oily and grainy. Chef's tip: cook the mushrooms in a dry hot pan first until they squeak and brown, before any butter goes in, for a deeper taste.

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Kefir

Kefir is the sour, lightly fizzy fermented milk that families across Russia, Georgia and the North Caucasus drink plain from a glass at breakfast, as an evening snack or alongside a meal, and also use in pancakes and cold soups. It is made by leaving milk with kefir grains, a living culture of yeasts and bacteria, at room temperature for a day until it thickens. Nothing is added: no salt and no sugar. About 0.25 g salt per 250 ml glass, all from the milk itself. Always use pasteurised milk. The usual mistake is leaving it too long, until it separates into curds and whey; check after 18 hours and stop when it is just thick and pourable. Chef's tip: a second ferment of 6 hours in the fridge in a closed bottle makes it smoother and a little fizzier.

1445 minRussianDrinksGluten free
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Ivan-chai (fireweed tea)

Long before Chinese tea reached ordinary villages, peasants around Koporye near St Petersburg, and on through Karelia and the Arkhangelsk forests, were rolling and fermenting the leaves of fireweed, the tall pink-flowered plant that floods clearings every July. Ivan-chai is having a revival now, sold in paper bags at markets and drunk at the dacha in the evening from the samovar, because it has no caffeine and will not keep anyone awake. It brews to a clear amber with a soft, slightly fruity, honey-and-dried-apple taste and almost no bitterness. Granular kinds taste deeper, leaf kinds more floral. The common mistake is brewing it for two or three minutes like black tea; it needs a full 10 minutes in a warmed pot to open up, and it never turns bitter if you leave it longer. It is ready when the liquid is a deep golden-amber and smells of honey and dried fruit. It is traditionally drunk as a calming evening tea; if you are pregnant or on regular medication, check with a doctor before drinking it daily. Chef's tip: the same leaves give a second, lighter pot; just top up with fresh hot water and wait another 10 minutes.

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Kapusta provansal

Kapusta provansal has nothing to do with Provence: the grand name is a Soviet-era flourish for a bright marinated cabbage salad that turns up on festive tables from Moscow to Novosibirsk, especially at New Year and through the autumn when the cabbage is crisp and sweet. Coarsely cut cabbage, grated carrot, apple wedges and red cranberries are packed into a jar under a hot marinade of water, sugar, vinegar, sunflower oil, bay and allspice. By the next day it is crunchy, juicy, sweet and sour, with tart pops of berry and a gentle spiced warmth, and it sits happily beside boiled potatoes, kotlety, salted herring or roast chicken. The commonest mistake is slicing the cabbage very finely, which goes limp under the hot marinade; cut it into rough 3 cm squares and crush it only lightly with the salt. It is ready when the cabbage has turned slightly translucent but still snaps and the carrot has coloured the brine pale orange. Chef's tip: add a few strips of red pepper and a crushed garlic clove to the jar for colour and depth.

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Ka'i ladrillo

Ka'i ladrillo — 'monkey brick' in Guaraní — is the sweet sold by vendors on Asunción buses and at country fiestas: roasted peanuts bound in boiled cane molasses and set in brick-shaped blocks, crunchy and dark with a slightly smoky toffee taste. It contains peanuts, so keep it away from anyone with a peanut allergy. The common mistake is taking the syrup off too soon, so the bricks stay sticky and never set. Chef's tip: test the syrup by dropping a little into cold water; it is ready when it sets into a brittle thread that snaps.

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Mohnschnecke

Every German bakery counter has a tray of Mohnschnecken next to the cinnamon and nut snails, and they are bought by the bag for Saturday breakfast and afternoon coffee. A soft, buttery yeast dough is spread with a thick filling of ground poppy seeds cooked in milk with sugar and lemon, rolled up, sliced and baked, then brushed with a thin lemon glaze. The usual mistake is using whole poppy seeds straight from the jar: they must be ground (or bought ground, as "Mohn gemahlen") or the filling stays gritty and bland. Chef's tip: cool the poppy filling completely before spreading it, because a warm filling melts the butter in the dough and the spirals unroll in the oven.

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Ketwurst

Ketwurst, from ketchup plus Wurst, was invented in 1977 in East Berlin as the GDR's own fast food, served from state-run snack counters around Alexanderplatz. A long roll was speared onto a heated metal spike to hollow and toast it at the same time, the hole was filled with a spicy ketchup and a hot boiled sausage, usually pork, was pushed inside. It vanished after reunification but is back at a few kiosks in Prenzlauer Berg and Friedrichshain, eaten on the go at lunchtime by Berliners who grew up with it. Chef's tip: heat the sausages in water just below a simmer; boiling hard splits the skins.

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Drachena

Drachena belongs to the old peasant cooking of northern Russia, from Arkhangelsk to Vologda, where it was baked in the cooling Russian stove on Sunday mornings. Eggs are whisked with milk, a little sour cream and flour, poured into a hot buttered pan and baked until puffed, golden and wobbly, somewhere between an omelette and a soufflé. It is eaten warm, plain or with sour cream. The common mistake is opening the oven early; the drachena collapses if it gets a draught before it is set. Chef's tip: heat the buttered dish in the oven before pouring in the batter, so it starts to set and rise from the bottom at once.

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Berezovy sok (birch sap)

For two or three weeks at the end of March and into April, while there is still snow under the trees and before the buds open, the birches around Moscow, Tver, Vologda and across the north start to run. Families tap a few trees at the dacha and drink the sap straight from the jar: clear, cold, very faintly sweet, tasting of rainwater and fresh wood. Because it spoils within two or three days, villagers bottled the rest with sugar, raisins and lemon zest, letting it ferment slightly into a sparkling drink that kept into early summer; like any ferment it makes a trace of alcohol, well under 1% if drunk young. Only tap with the owner's permission, choose trees thicker than 20 cm, drill one small hole and plug it with a wooden peg afterwards so the tree heals. The common mistake is sealing the bottles tight at warm room temperature, which can make them burst; keep them cool and open the caps daily. The bottled sap is ready when the raisins float, a ring of fine bubbles forms on top and it tastes gently sparkling. Chef's tip: drink the first glass straight from the tree; it is never quite as good again.

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Mochenye yabloki

In the villages of central Russia, around Ryazan, Tula and Kursk, late autumn meant packing an oak barrel with whole Antonovka apples between layers of blackcurrant and cherry leaves, then pouring over a brine of water, salt, honey and a little rye flour. A month later, in the cold of the cellar, they had become mochenye yabloki: still crisp, very juicy, tart and lightly sweet, with a faint fizz on the tongue and an aroma close to cider. Through the winter they come out with roast goose or duck, on the zakuski table beside sauerkraut and salted cucumbers, and as a snack with tea. Like any lactic ferment they produce a trace of alcohol, well under 1% while young. The most common mistake is using soft, sweet dessert apples, which go mealy and fall apart; choose hard, sour, late-season apples without a single bruise and pack them tightly. They are ready when the brine is cloudy and smells pleasantly sour and a slice tastes tangy right to the core. Chef's tip: lay a clean cabbage leaf on top under the weight; it keeps the apples down and catches any surface yeast.

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Khrenovina

Khrenovina, also known as khrenoder or gorlodyor, the 'throat-tearer', is what Siberian families grind at the end of August and in September, when the garden tomatoes ripen faster than anyone can eat them and the horseradish roots are dug up. Raw tomatoes, horseradish and garlic go through the meat grinder with salt and a little sugar, and that is all: no cooking at all. Through the autumn and winter it is spooned onto pelmeni and boiled potatoes, beside kholodets and shashlik, and onto rye bread. It is bright, juicy and sweet-sour from the tomato, then the horseradish rushes up your nose like wasabi and the garlic lingers after; the texture is loose and grainy, like a fresh salsa. The mistake everyone makes once is grinding the horseradish indoors with their face over the grinder; the fumes sting hard, so open a window and tie a plastic bag over the outlet. It is ready after an hour or two in the fridge, when the heat has settled and the colour is an even pinkish red. Chef's tip: grind the horseradish last, straight into the tomatoes, so its heat is trapped in the juice.

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Parovye kotlety for toddlers (steamed cutlets)

Parovye kotlety, steamed cutlets, are the nursery and kindergarten classic of Russian homes from St Petersburg to Novosibirsk, served with mashed potato or buckwheat at lunch. Minced chicken or turkey is mixed with bread soaked in water and grated onion, shaped into small patties and steamed until soft and juicy, so there is no crust for small gums to struggle with. This version for toddlers from 12 months has no added salt and no egg. It contains wheat (gluten, in the bread); there is no milk, egg, nuts or soya. Chef's tip: beat the mince against the side of the bowl for a minute; it makes the cutlets hold together without egg.

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Detsadovsky omlet (kindergarten oven omelette)

Anyone who went to a detsky sad, a kindergarten, in Moscow, Kyiv or Minsk remembers this omelette: tall, pale and soft as a sponge, baked in big trays and served in squares with a slice of bread and butter. The secret is lots of milk and a deep dish, so the eggs steam-bake into a quivering, custardy block rather than a flat frittata. It makes a protein-rich breakfast or supper for toddlers from 12 months, made here without salt. It contains egg and milk; there is no gluten, nuts or soya. Chef's tip: stir the eggs and milk, don't whisk them into a foam, or the omelette rises and then collapses.

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Zwiebelfleisch

Zwiebelfleisch is an old Viennese Beisl dish, the kind of hearty lunch an inn serves on a cold weekday, with boiled or fried potatoes alongside. Thin slices of beef braise slowly with a mountain of onions, a splash of vinegar, caraway and marjoram until the onions melt into a sweet, tangy gravy. The usual mistake is browning the onions too fast: they turn bitter, so let them colour slowly to a deep gold. Pressure-cooker: 25 minutes at high pressure after browning. Chef's tip: a teaspoon of mustard stirred in at the end rounds out the sauce and brightens the vinegar.

125 minGermanMeat
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Schmorgurken

Schmorgurken are a late-summer dish of Berlin and the Spreewald, the market-garden country south-east of the city, where big, thick braising cucumbers are piled up in August. Peeled and seeded, they are braised with onion and a little stock until tender and juicy, then finished with dill, mustard and a spoon of sour cream. Many families add minced meat or bacon; this is the vegetarian version, good with boiled new potatoes or a fried egg. Suitable as part of a balanced diet, it is a low-starch vegetable dish: about 110 kcal and 9 g carbohydrate per portion. The usual mistake is braising them for too long until they collapse into mush; they are ready when just translucent. Chef's tip: scrape out the seeds thoroughly, or the dish turns watery.

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Quarkbrötchen

In German homes Quarkbrötchen are the Sunday-morning answer to an empty bread bin: no yeast, no rising, just quark, egg, flour and baking powder, shaped and in the oven while the coffee brews. They come out with a thin golden crust and a soft, slightly tangy crumb, best split warm with butter and jam or a slice of cheese. The usual mistake is kneading the dough like bread, which makes the rolls tough and flat; mix only until it comes together. Chef's tip: if your quark is very wet, drain it in a sieve for 10 minutes first, or the dough turns sticky and you end up adding so much flour that the rolls go dry.

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Eiskaffee

On a hot July afternoon in any German or Austrian Eiscafé, from a Hamburg promenade to a Viennese Gastgarten, the tall glass with the long spoon is Eiskaffee. It is not iced coffee in the American sense: strong coffee, chilled, is poured over two scoops of vanilla ice cream and crowned with sweetened whipped cream, sometimes a wafer and a dusting of cocoa or grated chocolate. You drink the cold coffee through a straw while the ice cream slowly melts into it, then spoon up the creamy, half-frozen rest, so it is part drink, part dessert, eaten at the café in the afternoon rather than with a meal. The usual mistake is pouring hot or even warm coffee straight onto the ice cream: it melts at once into a thin, lukewarm, milky soup. Brew it earlier and chill it properly. It is ready when the coffee is fridge-cold, the scoops sit just proud of the surface and the cream holds soft peaks on top. It is moderately caffeinated, so keep it for adults and older teens. Chef's tip: freeze leftover coffee in ice-cube trays and add a couple to the glass so nothing gets diluted with water.

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Mannaya kasha

Mannaya kasha is the breakfast of every Russian childhood, served in kindergartens and at home: semolina simmered in milk into a smooth, soft porridge, with a melting knob of butter and a spoon of jam or berries in the middle. The famous mistake, joked about by generations of children, is lumps; they form when semolina is tipped in all at once, so rain it in slowly while stirring. Chef's tip: for a thick porridge use 3 tablespoons of semolina per 250 ml of milk, and for the runny kindergarten style use 2; it thickens a lot as it cools, so take it off the heat a little thinner than you want.

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Saure Kartoffelrädle

Saure Rädle, 'sour little wheels', are old Swabian farmhouse food from the villages around Stuttgart and the Swabian Alb, cooked on Fridays or at the end of the month when there was no meat. Potato slices simmer in a nutty brown roux sauce sharpened with vinegar and scented with bay and clove, so the slices turn tender and the sauce glossy and tangy. Some families add a few pieces of bacon; this version is meat-free. Eat with a green salad or pickled gherkins. The usual mistake is rushing the roux: pale flour gives a floury, grey sauce, so brown it slowly to the colour of hazelnuts. Chef's tip: add the vinegar at the end, a splash at a time, and taste; the sauce should be pleasantly sour, not sharp.

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Butterbrot

Every German schoolchild knows the Pausenbrot: two slices of rye or mixed-grain bread spread with good butter, closed around a slice of cheese, wrapped in paper and eaten in the mid-morning break, with a few cucumber or apple slices on the side. Adults take the same Butterbrot to work. The common mistake is spreading cold, hard butter, which tears the bread and leaves bare patches that let any wet filling soak in. Many Gouda-style cheeses use animal rennet, so choose one marked vegetarian. Chef's tip: butter right to the crust on both slices; the butter is a waterproof layer that keeps the bread fresh until lunchtime.

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Rinderrouladen

Rinderrouladen are the Sunday and holiday roast of Germany, made by grandmothers from the Rhineland to Saxony and served at Christmas with red cabbage and potato dumplings. Thin slices of beef are spread with mustard and rolled round smoked bacon (pork), onion and gherkin, then browned and braised for two hours in red wine and stock until tender, giving a deep, glossy gravy. For an alcohol-free version use extra stock with a tablespoon of red wine vinegar. The usual mistake is rolls that unravel in the pot; tie them firmly or pin with two cocktail sticks. Slow-cooker: after browning, cook on low for 7 hours, then thicken the sauce in a pan. Chef's tip: ask the butcher for topside sliced 5 mm thick and beat it a little thinner, so it rolls easily without tearing.

165 minGermanMeat
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Grünkohl mit Pinkel

In Bremen and Oldenburg, Grünkohl mit Pinkel is the dish of the winter Kohlfahrt, when groups walk out into the frosty countryside and finish at an inn for kale, smoked pork and Pinkel, a smoked sausage of pork, bacon and oats. The kale is braised for hours with onions, lard and smoked pork until dark, soft and almost creamy, then the sausages warm through on top. Serve with boiled potatoes or small caramelised ones and mustard. The usual mistake is cooking the kale briefly like a vegetable side; it needs the long braise to lose its bitterness. Chef's tip: kale is best after the first frost, which makes the leaves sweeter; frozen chopped kale is a good shortcut.

160 minGermanMeat
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Lampreado

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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