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Arepa de chocloSweet corn griddle cakes with cheese

Along the mountain roads of Antioquia and Boyacá, roadside stalls cook arepas de choclo on wide griddles all day: thick, sweet cakes of blended fresh corn, golden outside and soft inside, folded or topped with a slab of fresh white cheese and a smear of butter. Colombians eat them for breakfast, as a mid-afternoon snack with hot chocolate, or as a quick supper. The usual mistake is a batter that is too wet, so the cakes tear when flipped; it should hold its shape on a spoon, and a little precooked cornmeal fixes a runny batch. Queso campesino and mozzarella are often made with animal rennet, so look for a vegetarian cheese if needed; check the cornmeal pack is gluten free if that matters. Chef's tip: cook them over a medium-low heat; the sugar in the corn burns before the middle sets if the pan is too hot.

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Cocido quemadoBurnt sugar mate drink

Cocido is how Paraguay starts the day: in Asunción, in the villages of Guairá and Itapúa, and in school kitchens, a pot of burnt yerba is brewed and poured into cups with chipa, the cheesy cassava bread, or with a hard galleta. The old way is to drop a glowing piece of charcoal into a pot with yerba and sugar and stir until the sugar burns. On a home stove you caramelise them together in a dry pan instead, which is safer and gives the same smoky, toffee-like taste. The drink is clear amber-brown, with roasted, slightly bitter mate notes over burnt-sugar sweetness; with milk added it becomes cocido con leche, creamy and coffee-coloured. Yerba mate contains caffeine, so treat it like a cup of coffee. The common mistake is letting the sugar go black: it turns acrid and bitter. Pull it off the heat when the caramel is deep amber and the yerba smells toasted, not burnt. It is ready when the liquid is a clear dark amber and tastes of toffee and smoke. Chef's tip: the water will spit fiercely when it hits the hot caramel, so pour it in from the side, at arm's length.

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VerhackertsSmoked bacon and garlic spread

In Styria, in the wine taverns (Buschenschanken) of the south and on farmhouse breakfast tables, verhackerts is spread thickly on dark rye bread with the morning coffee or at the mid-morning Jause: smoked pork bacon and back fat chopped so finely it becomes a paste, seasoned with garlic, salt and pepper. Traditionally it is made from raw cured, cold-smoked Styrian Speck and eaten without cooking; that raw version is not for pregnant women, young children or anyone with a weakened immune system. This safer home version cooks the minced bacon gently until the meat is cooked through (71 °C) before it is chilled into a spread. Serve on rye bread, or gluten-free bread if needed. The common mistake is browning the bacon; it should only render and turn opaque, or the spread goes crumbly instead of smooth. Chef's tip: mince it while the bacon is fridge-cold, almost frozen, so the fat stays in clean little pieces rather than smearing.

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Ei im GlasSoft-boiled eggs in a glass

In the old coffee houses of Vienna, the breakfast menu still lists Ei im Glas: two very soft-boiled eggs, scooped warm from their shells into a small glass, with a knob of butter, chives, salt and pepper. You stir it into a golden, custardy mess and eat it with a crisp Semmel roll (gluten-free bread if you need it) and a Melange coffee. The mistake almost everyone makes is boiling the eggs a minute too long, so the yolk sets and the dish turns into plain egg salad. Chef's tip: warm the glass with hot water while the eggs cook, so the butter melts on contact and the eggs stay hot to the last spoonful.

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LampreadoCassava starch cheese fritters

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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TereréIced yerba mate

In Asunción the hottest part of the day stops for tereré: a horn or cup packed with yerba mate, topped up again and again with ice water infused with crushed herbs, and passed round the group through a metal straw. It was recognised by UNESCO as part of Paraguay's cultural heritage, and the herbs (yuyos) change with the season and the drinker's mood. Yerba mate contains caffeine, so it isn't one for small children. The common mistake is pouring water straight into loose yerba, which then clogs the straw; tilt the yerba to one side first. Chef's tip: for tereré ruso, swap the water for cold orange or grapefruit juice.

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Martín FierroCheese with quince paste

Ask for dessert in a Montevideo bodegón or a country parador and you may be offered a Martín Fierro: a thick slice of fresh, mild cheese laid with an equal slice of dense quince or sweet-potato paste, named after the gaucho of the epic poem. It's salty against sweet, soft against firm, and takes two minutes to assemble. Uruguayan fresh cheese is usually made with animal rennet, so choose one with vegetarian rennet if that matters to you. The mistake is serving it fridge-cold, which dulls both flavours. Chef's tip: cut the cheese and paste to exactly the same thickness, about 1 cm, so every bite has both.

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EinspännerBlack coffee with whipped cream

The Einspänner is named after the one-horse carriages of old Vienna: coachmen waiting outside in winter supposedly liked their coffee under a lid of cream that kept it hot and stopped it slopping. Today it is served in a handled glass at classic coffee houses, a strong black mocha (a double espresso or Großer Brauner without milk) topped with a thick layer of cold, lightly sweetened whipped cream and a pinch of icing sugar. You do not stir it: you sip the hot, bitter coffee through the cold, sweet cream, so each mouthful is two temperatures and two textures. It is an afternoon or late-morning coffee, often with a slice of Sachertorte. The common mistake is runny cream that sinks and turns the drink into a milky latte; whip it until it just holds a peak and spoon it on gently so it floats. It is ready when the cream stands at least 2 cm above the coffee and slowly sinks at the edges. It is strong: a double shot of caffeine in one glass. Chef's tip: pour the coffee in first and wait ten seconds before adding the cream, so the crema settles and helps support the cap.

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Wiener MelangeCoffee with milk and foam

In Vienna you never simply order 'a coffee'; you order by name, and the Melange is the one most Viennese ask for. It arrives in a large cup on a small silver tray with a glass of water and often a tiny chocolate, and you may sit over it for an hour with the newspapers at Café Prückel or Hawelka, mid-morning or after lunch. Traditionally it is a mild, longer espresso (a Verlängerter) with roughly equal hot milk and a soft cap of milk foam; it is gentler than a cappuccino and the foam is looser and creamier. Expect a round, nutty, slightly sweet cup with little bitterness. The common mistake is overheating the milk: once it passes about 70 °C it smells cooked and loses its sweetness and the foam turns big-bubbled and dry. Stop when the jug is too hot to hold for more than a second or two. It is ready when the foam sits in a smooth, glossy dome about a finger thick and the coffee shows as a brown ring at the edge. One cup has about the caffeine of a single espresso. Chef's tip: always serve the glass of water alongside, as Vienna does; it is drunk first to clear the palate.

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Sorbete de curubaBanana passionfruit milk drink

In Colombia a sorbete is not an ice but a fruit milkshake, and around Bogotá and the cold highlands of Boyacá and Cundinamarca the classic is made with curuba, the long, soft-skinned banana passionfruit that grows on vines at 2,500 metres. Bakeries and corrientazo lunch spots serve it with almuerzo or with a slice of cake at onces, the late-afternoon snack. It is pale salmon-pink, creamy and sweet-tart, more delicate than passionfruit, with a fragrance like guava and lemon. The common mistake is blending the pulp with its black seeds on high speed: the seeds break up and the sorbete turns bitter and grey-flecked. Pulse just enough to loosen the pulp from the seeds, strain, and only then blend with milk. Serve it at once, because the acid in curuba thickens the milk the longer it stands. It is ready when it is smooth, frothy and pink with no gritty specks. Outside Colombia look for frozen curuba pulp in Latin shops; passionfruit pulp works too, but use about two thirds of the amount as it is stronger. Chef's tip: dissolve the sugar in the strained juice before the milk goes in, so you can blend for less time.

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Migas de arepaArepa and scrambled egg hash

Nothing goes to waste in a paisa kitchen. Yesterday's arepas are torn into rough pieces and fried in a pan of hogao, the slow tomato and spring onion sauce of Antioquia, then folded through with soft scrambled eggs. It is a weekday breakfast across Medellín and the coffee towns, served with a cup of hot chocolate or a strong coffee, and it takes about as long as making toast. The texture should be part crisp, part soft, coated in eggy tomato. Most people stir it too much, which turns the arepa to mush; fry it first and let it crisp before the eggs go in. Use plain white-corn arepas, homemade or bought. Chef's tip: take the pan off the heat while the eggs still look a touch wet; they finish in the residual warmth and stay creamy.

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CholadoShaved ice with fruit

On a hot afternoon in Jamundí, just south of Cali, the stalls along the road to the river build cholados in tall plastic cups: a base of shaved ice drenched in bright fruit syrups, layers of chopped mango, papaya, pineapple, banana and strawberries, then a ribbon of condensed milk and a shower of coconut. It is half drink, half dessert, eaten with a long spoon as the ice melts into fruity, creamy slush. Children love it, and it is quick to build at home. The commonest mistake is shaving the ice too early; it melts into water before you finish assembling, so crush it at the last moment. Chef's tip: chill the fruit and glasses well beforehand and squeeze a little lime over the fruit so it stays bright.

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Jugo de maracuyáPassion fruit juice

Passion fruit grows easily in the warm valleys of Colombia, and maracuyá juice is the default glass at many lunch tables, from Huila to the coast. It is intensely aromatic and sharp, so it needs plenty of water and sugar, and it is served over ice; a milk version is made too, but the water one is the more refreshing. Street juice stands blend it fresh all day, and it pairs especially well with fried fish, rice and patacones, or any spicy dish. People tend to over-blend it, crushing the black seeds into gritty, bitter bits; just pulse until the pulp lets go of the seeds, then strain. Frozen passion fruit pulp from Latin shops is a good, cheaper option and needs no straining. Chef's tip: scoop the pulp from wrinkled, heavy fruit; the more wrinkled the skin, the sweeter and more fragrant the fruit inside.

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Esponjado de curubaBanana passionfruit mousse

Grandmothers' kitchens and old cafés of Bogotá and Boyacá have kept the esponjado alive: a pale, airy, sweet-sour mousse made with curuba, the long, soft-skinned banana passionfruit of the cold Andes, set with gelatin and sweetened with condensed milk. It is served chilled in glasses after Sunday lunch, light and tangy, perfumed like passionfruit but softer. Because it contains gelatin, it is not vegetarian; for a vegetarian version, set it with 2 tsp agar powder boiled for 2 minutes in the curuba juice. Older recipes fold in raw whipped egg whites; this one uses whipped cream instead, so there is no raw egg. The common problem is folding cream into gelatin that's too warm or too set: it should be cool and just thickening, like unbeaten egg white. Chef's tip: frozen curuba pulp is sold in Latin shops; if you can't find it, use passionfruit pulp with a squeeze of lime. Allow at least 4 hours for it to set.

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Perro calienteLoaded hot dog with pineapple sauce

Bogotá's hot-dog stands near the universities and in the Zona Rosa take the frankfurter and keep going: melted cheese, a sticky pineapple sauce, salsa rosada, mustard, a mound of crushed potato crisps and, on top, a couple of boiled quail eggs on a toothpick. It's sweet, salty, creamy and crunchy in every bite, and it is very much a hold-it-over-the-napkin snack. Kids are usually the first in line. Adding the crisps too early is the classic mistake; they go soft under the sauces, so they are the very last thing on. Chef's tip: make the quick pineapple sauce while the eggs boil; fresh pineapple cooked down with a little sugar tastes much brighter than bottled.

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KumisFermented milk drink

Kumis in Colombia is a thick, sweetened fermented milk, nothing like the Central Asian mare's-milk drink of the same name. Bakeries and cafeterias sell it chilled in glasses with a slice of plain sponge cake, the classic kumis con ponqué, and many families still make it at home. It is cool, tangy and creamy, somewhere between drinking yogurt and buttermilk. Use only pasteurised milk, heat it first, and work with very clean equipment: wash jars and spoons in hot soapy water and scald them with boiling water. The milk ferments at room temperature (20–28 °C, out of direct sun) for 12–24 hours, then goes into the fridge; never leave it out longer. Discard any batch with mould, pink or orange patches, or a rotten rather than sour smell. Adding the starter to milk that is still too hot is the common slip, as heat kills the cultures and nothing sets. Chef's tip: add the sugar after fermenting, then chill well before serving.

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Limonada de cocoCoconut lime cooler

Cartagena's heat makes limonada de coco almost compulsory: beach kiosks and restaurants in the old walled city blend it to order, and it arrives as a pale, frosty slush, sharp with lime and rich with coconut. It is a drink to sip slowly with fried fish, coconut rice and patacones, or on its own on a hot afternoon. Coconut cream gives the body, sugar balances the lime, and a full load of ice gives the frozen texture. The common slip is blending lime pieces with their peel for too long, which turns it bitter within minutes; use juice plus a little zest instead. Shake the tin of coconut cream before measuring, since it separates. Serve it straight away, before it melts and separates. Chef's tip: freeze some of the coconut cream in an ice-cube tray beforehand and use it in place of half the ice for a thicker, creamier result.

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Jugo de moraBlackberry milk juice

Order a juice anywhere in Colombia and the waiter will ask: en agua o en leche? With mora, the tart Andean blackberry, the milk version is the treat: a thick, dusky-purple shake with a sour-sweet berry flavour, served with lunch at corrientazo restaurants and in tall glasses at bakeries. Mora de Castilla is longer and sharper than European blackberries and is sold frozen in Latin shops; ordinary blackberries with a squeeze of lime make a good stand-in. Straining is what makes it smooth, since the seeds are gritty. The mistake many people make is blending the berries with the milk and leaving it to stand: the fruit acid slowly curdles the milk, so blend the fruit with water first, strain, then add cold milk and serve straight away. Chef's tip: very cold milk and a few ice cubes keep the drink thick and frothy.

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CarantantasCrisp fried corn crusts

Carantantas started as a thrifty by-product: the thin layer of corn dough that stuck to the bottom of the big pans in Popayán's masa kitchens, scraped off, dried and sold as golden shards. Today they are a cheap, crunchy snack sold in bags at Cauca markets, eaten with ají or broken into a sopa de carantantas. At home you can make them by spreading a thin layer of corn dough on a hot, dry pan, letting it toast into a crust, then frying or crisping the pieces. They taste of toasted corn, nutty and lightly salty, a little like the crunchy bits of a tortilla. Spreading the dough too thickly is where it goes wrong, giving leathery, chewy pieces instead of crisp ones; aim for a layer no thicker than a coin. Chef's tip: a non-stick or well-seasoned cast-iron pan lets the crust lift in large sheets; wait until the edges curl before scraping.

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CalentadoFried leftover rice and beans

Calentado literally means reheated, and that is the whole idea: the rice and beans left from yesterday's lunch are fried together in a hot pan with hogao until they catch and crisp at the edges. In Antioquia it is the breakfast of champions, topped with a runny fried egg and served with a corn arepa, a slice of white cheese and hot chocolate, and city cafés across Colombia now put it on weekend menus. This version is meat-free, using beans cooked without pork. Leftover rice needs care: it must have been cooled within an hour or two of cooking and kept in the fridge no more than a day, and it should be reheated until piping hot all through. Stirring constantly is what turns it to mush, so press it into the pan and let a crust form before turning. Chef's tip: add a few spoonfuls of the bean broth; it binds the rice and helps the crispy bits form.

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Papas criollas fritasFried small yellow potatoes

Little golden papas criollas are the potato Bogotá loves best: thin-skinned, buttery-yellow and so creamy they almost melt. At the asaderos along the roads out of the capital, and next to every plate of ajiaco or fritanga, they come fried whole, skin on, crackling outside and soft in the middle, with nothing but salt and a bowl of ají. Frozen papas criollas are sold in Latin American shops; otherwise use the smallest waxy yellow potatoes you can find. Frying them raw is the usual mistake: the skins brown before the insides are cooked. A quick boil first fixes that. Chef's tip: let the boiled potatoes steam dry for a few minutes and squash a few slightly with your palm before frying, so the split skins catch extra crunch.

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Chocolate santafereñoHot chocolate with cheese

Old Bogotá, once Santafé, built an afternoon ritual around hot chocolate. In the café-restaurants of La Candelaria it comes in a big cup, frothed with a wooden molinillo, with a plate of white cheese, almojábanas and buttered bread on the side. The surprise for visitors is the cheese: cubes go straight into the hot chocolate, softening into stretchy strings that are fished out with a spoon, a salty contrast to the sweet, spiced drink. Colombian table chocolate comes in bars already sweetened and often flavoured with cinnamon and clove; dark chocolate plus sugar and spice is a fair swap. The usual cheese, queso campesino or doble crema, is normally set with animal rennet, so choose a vegetarian (microbial-rennet) mozzarella-style cheese. Boiling the chocolate hard is the misstep that makes it grainy and scorched; keep it at a gentle simmer. Chef's tip: no molinillo? Whisk briskly with a balloon whisk or a milk frother until there's a thick foam.

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Cuajada con melaoCurd cheese with panela syrup

Simplicity is the charm of this Andean dessert: a slab of fresh, milky cuajada, barely salted, with a dark syrup of panela poured over it, still warm. Highland fondas between Bogotá and Boyacá serve it after a lunch of ajiaco or sancocho, and the contrast of cool, squeaky curd with molasses-deep, spiced syrup is the point. Cuajada is set with rennet, traditionally animal; buy a vegetarian curd or fresh ricotta-style cheese, or make cuajada at home with microbial rennet. Panela is unrefined cane sugar; dark muscovado is the closest swap. The mistake is boiling the syrup too long: it turns to toffee as soon as it meets the cold cheese. Take it off when it coats a spoon thinly. Chef's tip: a strip of lime zest in the syrup cuts the sweetness beautifully.

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Avena colombianaChilled oat drink

Bakeries all over Colombia keep a fridge of avena in plastic cups, ready to pair with a warm pandebono, buñuelo or almojábana. It is a thick, sweet oat drink cooked in milk with cinnamon and cloves, then blended smooth and chilled until it is creamy and spoonable, somewhere between a milkshake and rice pudding. Children drink it after school, and it is a common mid-morning snack with something baked. Home versions are less sweet and more spiced than shop ones. The thing to watch is texture: if you skip blending or straining, you end up with slimy flecks of oats, so blend thoroughly once it is cooked. It thickens a lot as it chills, so loosen it with cold milk before serving. Chef's tip: toast the oats in the dry pan for 2 minutes first; it gives a nutty, biscuity flavour.

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