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Skābeņu zupa

In late spring, Latvian gardens and meadows are full of sorrel, and skābeņu zupa is the first green soup of the year: potatoes simmered with onion and carrot, then a big handful of chopped sorrel added at the end, so the soup turns sour, bright and khaki-green. It is served hot or cold with a halved boiled egg and a spoon of sour cream. Use vegetable stock for a vegetarian soup. A common mistake is cooking the sorrel for long; it turns grey and loses its tang in a minute. Chef's tip: add half the sorrel at the end and the other half raw in the bowl for colour.

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Cepelinai

Cepelinai, named after the Zeppelin airships they resemble, are Lithuania's national dish: big oval dumplings of grated raw and boiled potato wrapped around seasoned minced pork, simmered until glossy and served with a sauce of sour cream and fried bacon bits and onion. This dish contains pork. Families in Kaunas and Vilnius make them on weekends and holidays; curd cheese or mushroom fillings are common vegetarian versions. A common mistake is skipping the potato starch; it is what holds the dumplings together. Chef's tip: squeeze the grated potato very dry and stir back the starch that settles from the liquid. Minced pork must reach 71 °C.

100 minBalticMeat
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Sklandrausis

Sklandrausis is the ancient pie of Kurzeme in western Latvia, an EU-protected speciality: a thin, crisp shell of rye pastry filled with a layer of mashed potato and a second layer of sweetened carrot spiced with cinnamon, baked until the carrot caramelises at the edges. It is sweet, earthy and served at midsummer (Jāņi) and folk festivals. A common mistake is rolling the rye dough thick, which makes the shell hard and heavy. Chef's tip: work the dough while warm and roll it thin; rye pastry made with hot water is soft and easy to pinch up into a rim.

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Jāņu siers

Jāņu siers is the round, golden caraway cheese that Latvians make for Jāņi, the midsummer festival on 23–24 June, when it is eaten with rye bread and honey, and songs, around bonfires. Unlike most cheeses it needs no rennet: fresh curd cheese is cooked with hot milk, eggs, butter and caraway into a smooth mass, then pressed in a cloth and left to set. Its round shape and golden colour stand for the sun. A common mistake is cooking it over a high heat, which makes it grainy and rubbery. Chef's tip: stir constantly over a low heat until it pulls away from the pan in one shiny ball, then press it straight away.

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Pelēkie zirņi ar speķi

Grey peas with bacon is Latvia's national dish, eaten at Christmas and on the winter solstice and served in Riga's canteens all year: large, earthy grey peas soaked and boiled until soft but whole, then tossed with crisp pieces of fried smoked bacon and onion and served with a glass of cold kefir. This dish contains pork. Grey peas are sold in Baltic shops; carlin peas or brown chickpeas are close. A common mistake is overcooking the peas into mush. Chef's tip: fry the bacon slowly so its fat renders out, then fry the onion in that fat; it coats the peas with flavour.

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Kama

Kama is a uniquely Estonian food: a fine flour of roasted barley, rye, oats and peas, sold in every Tallinn supermarket, stirred into kefir, buttermilk or yogurt with a little sugar or honey and berries. It was once farmers' food for the fields; today it is a fast, filling breakfast and the flavour of Estonian ice creams and sweets. If you can't find kama, roast equal parts barley, rye and oat flour with a little pea flour in a dry pan until nutty. A common mistake is eating it at once; give it a few minutes to thicken. Chef's tip: stir in the kama, leave for 5 minutes, then add the berries, so it thickens like a mousse.

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Placali

Abidjan's maquis serve placali in shining grey mounds next to bowls of sauce kopé, the okra sauce that slides off the spoon, and many Ivorians from the lagoon and southern forest regions eat it several times a week. It is made from soured cassava dough dissolved in water, strained and cooked while beaten hard until it becomes a translucent, sticky, stretchy paste. The taste is mildly sour and the texture smooth and elastic, meant to be swallowed rather than chewed. Pair it with okra, palm-nut or leaf sauces. Don't stop stirring once the dough thickens, or raw lumps hide in the swallow. Chef's tip: wet your hands and the serving bowl before shaping, otherwise placali clings to everything it touches.

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Akpessi

Around Bouaké and Yamoussoukro, akpessi is what Baoulé families cook when they want a filling one-pot meal with little fuss: chunks of green plantain and yam simmered right in a red palm oil and tomato sauce until tender. A few pieces are crushed into the liquid at the end, so the sauce turns thick and clings to everything. It is often made with smoked fish; this version keeps it meat-free, with soft garden eggs folded through for body. Expect an earthy, gently starchy dish with heat from the pepper, good with sliced avocado on the side. The usual mistake is stirring too much, which turns the whole pot to mush instead of leaving soft chunks. Chef's tip: oil your hands before peeling green plantains; the sticky sap washes off far more easily.

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Estonian kringle

Kringel is the celebration bread of Estonia, baked for birthdays and name days and carried to every visit: a rich yeast dough rolled with cinnamon butter and sugar, sliced lengthways, twisted into a braided wreath so the layers show, and baked until golden. In Tallinn's old-town cafés it is sold by the slice with coffee. A common mistake is cutting the roll with a blunt knife, which squashes the layers. Chef's tip: chill the filled roll for 15 minutes before slicing; it cuts cleanly and twists without the filling escaping.

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Mulgipuder

Mulgipuder comes from Mulgimaa, the old farming region of southern Estonia around Viljandi, and it has become one of the country's national dishes: potatoes and barley groats boiled together and mashed into a thick, nutty purée. It is normally topped with fried bacon and onion; this version uses mushrooms and onion fried in butter. It is eaten with sour milk or kefir and pickles. A common mistake is using too little water, so the barley stays hard while the potatoes are already soft. Chef's tip: start the barley first and add the potatoes after 20 minutes, so both are tender at the same moment.

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Šakotis

Šakotis, 'branched', is the tall, spiky cake that crowns Lithuanian weddings and christenings: a rich egg batter dripped over a turning spit in front of an open fire, layer after layer, so the drips harden into branches that stick out like a fir tree. Specialist bakers around Druskininkai and Vilnius make them to order. At home, a foil-wrapped rolling pin turned slowly under a hot grill builds a smaller version. A common mistake is a thin batter, which runs off instead of forming spikes. Chef's tip: turn the spit slowly as you ladle on each layer and let the drips set before the next coat; the spikes form where the batter drips and hardens.

280 minBalticBaking
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Kibinai

Kibinai are the pastries of the Karaim, a small Turkic community settled in Trakai, the lake-island castle town near Vilnius, since the 14th century. Every café along Karaimų street sells them hot from the oven: half-moon pastries of flaky, buttery dough with a juicy filling of chopped lamb and onion, crimped along the top. A common mistake is mincing the meat; the Karaim chop it into small cubes so the filling stays juicy. Chef's tip: use cold dough and bake hot, so the pastry flakes and the juices stay sealed inside. The filling must reach 71 °C.

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Šaltibarščiai

Šaltibarščiai is the shocking-pink soup of Lithuanian summers, so loved that Vilnius holds a pink soup festival every June: cooked or pickled beetroot grated into cold kefir with cucumber, dill, spring onion and boiled egg, served with a plate of hot boiled potatoes on the side. The contrast of icy soup and steaming potatoes is the point. A common mistake is using warm beetroot, which dulls the colour and warms the soup. Chef's tip: grate chilled beetroot into ice-cold kefir and let it stand for 10 minutes; the colour deepens to vivid fuchsia.

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Maizes zupa

Maizes zupa, 'bread soup', is Latvia's way of using up dark rye bread: the bread is soaked and cooked down with dried fruit, sugar and cinnamon into a thick, sweet, deep-brown pudding, cooled and topped with whipped cream. It is on the menu in Riga's canteen-style restaurants and in school lunches, and every Latvian grandmother has her own version. A common mistake is using light rye; it needs dense, dark Latvian or German-style rye for its malty taste. Chef's tip: add a squeeze of lemon and a spoon of cranberries; their sharpness lifts the sweet, heavy soup.

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Sauce djoumgblé

Baoulé cooks in central Côte d'Ivoire dry okra in the sun during the harvest, then grind it into the dark green powder that makes sauce djoumgblé. Stirred into a beef and tomato stew with flaked smoked fish, it thickens the pot into a deep brown, slippery sauce with an earthy, smoky flavour quite different from fresh okra soup. It is the classic partner for foutou banane or placali in Bouaké and in Abidjan's maquis, where each mouthful of starch is pulled through the sauce. Look for the powder as dried or ground okra in African grocers. Chef's tip: whisk the okra powder into cold water before it goes into the pot; scattered straight into hot sauce, it forms lumps that never break down.

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Sauce gouagouassou

Bété country around Gagnoa and Daloa in western Côte d'Ivoire is known for sauces with plenty of chilli, and gouagouassou is one of the most loved: tomatoes, garden eggs and hot peppers boiled whole, then crushed by hand in a mortar and simmered with smoked fish. There is little or no oil, so the sauce tastes fresh, smoky and bright, with real heat and a rough, rustic texture. Spoon it over white rice or eat it with foutou at a weekday lunch. Use fewer chillies if you prefer, but keep at least one for the character. Chef's tip: soak the smoked fish in hot water for ten minutes first; it softens, rinses off ash and grit, and gives its flavour to the sauce more quickly.

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Kabato

From Korhogo and Odienné down to Bouaké, households in northern and central Côte d'Ivoire eat kabato almost daily: a swallow of maize meal cooked with a squeeze of lemon. The acid gives the paste a faint tang and a firmer, cleaner bite than plain cornmeal. It is eaten warm with okra sauce, groundnut sauce or a sauce of pounded leaves, pinched off by hand and dragged through the bowl. A common slip is adding the cornmeal too fast, which makes lumps; rain it in while stirring. Chef's tip: whisk the lemony cornmeal slurry into the boiling water before adding the rest of the meal; starting with a thin porridge is what keeps kabato lump-free.

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Attoukpou

Along the lagoons east and west of Abidjan, Ebrié and Attié cooks turn soured cassava dough into attoukpou, a soft steamed paste that is gentler and less stretchy than placali. The crumbled dough is steamed until it turns translucent, then pounded with a little hot water into smooth, pillowy balls with a light sourness. It is served at home and at village gatherings with palm-nut sauce, a light pepper soup or aubergine sauce, and it soaks up gravy beautifully. Ready-made fermented cassava dough from an African grocer saves days of work. Avoid packing the dough tightly into the steamer; it needs space for the steam to move through. Chef's tip: crumble the dough very finely before steaming; big lumps stay chalky in the middle however long they cook.

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Kugelis

Kugelis is Sunday food all over Lithuania: raw potatoes grated very finely, mixed with eggs, hot milk and fried onion, then baked for over an hour in a deep tin until the top and edges are dark and crisp and the inside is dense and creamy. It is cut into squares and eaten with sour cream. Lithuanian families usually add bacon; this version uses plenty of onion fried in butter. A common mistake is leaving the grated potato to sit, which turns it grey. Chef's tip: pour hot milk over the potatoes as soon as they are grated; it stops them darkening and helps the pudding set.

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Majarisco

Its name blends 'majado' (mashed plantain) and 'marisco' (seafood), and along the coast of Piura and Tumbes, near the Ecuadorian border, it's what cevicherías and beach restaurants serve when you want something hot and filling. Mashed green plantain is folded into a sauce of garlic, onion, ají and seafood juices, with prawns, squid and mussels running through it, so every forkful is creamy, garlicky and briny. Serve it with lime and salsa criolla. Mussels must be alive: tap any open ones and discard those that don't close, and discard any that stay shut after cooking. Overcooking the seafood is the most frequent mistake; it goes in at the end, just until pink and opaque. Chef's tip: keep the mussel cooking liquid and use it to loosen the mash; it's pure seafood flavour.

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Seco de chabelo

Piura's picanterías, near the dry northern border, serve this rough, savoury mash at lunch: green plantains, roasted or boiled and pounded, mixed with fried strips of carne seca (salted dried beef) and a quick sofrito of onion, tomato and ají amarillo. It is dense, salty and smoky, with the plantain's starchy sweetness, and is eaten with salsa criolla and fried ripe plantain or chifles (plantain crisps). The legend says it was invented for a soldier called Chabelo in the War of the Pacific. Use carne seca or cecina from Latin shops, or unseasoned beef jerky. Pounding the plantains smooth is the classic mistake: chabelo should be lumpy and rustic. Chef's tip: soak the dried beef in warm water for 30 minutes and taste a piece; if it's still very salty, change the water and soak again.

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Chuño phuti

Chuño are potatoes freeze-dried the ancient way on the Altiplano: left out on frosty nights, trampled to squeeze out the water and dried in the high sun, so they keep for years. In Puno and across the border in Bolivia, they are soaked, crumbled and fried with onion, then scrambled with egg and fresh cheese to make phuti, a hearty breakfast or supper eaten with a hot tea. The texture is dense and slightly chewy, and the flavour earthy and a little tangy. Chuño is sold dried in Andean shops; it must soak overnight (ideally 24 hours, with the water changed) and then be peeled, which adds time before you start. The mistake is not soaking or rinsing enough: under-soaked chuño smells strong and stays hard in the middle. Serve with a fresh tomato salsa or uchucuta. Fresh cheese is usually made with animal rennet, so use a vegetarian one if needed. Chef's tip: squeeze the soaked chuño hard between your palms before crumbling; the drier it is, the better it fries.

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Arroz con pato

Chiclayo and the northern coast claim arroz con pato as their own, and family lunches and big Sunday gatherings there often centre on a deep pot of it: duck legs browned and simmered in dark beer and a purée of coriander and spinach, then rice cooked in the same green, duck-rich liquid with peas, red pepper and ají amarillo. The rice is moist and loose, the duck tender with crisp edges, and it is served with salsa criolla and, often, papa a la huancaína. The beer contains alcohol, and not all of it cooks off; for an alcohol-free pot use alcohol-free beer or the stock swap in the ingredients. A common mistake is skipping the browning, which leaves flabby skin and a pale, fatty rice; render the duck slowly first and pour off excess fat. Chef's tip: let the cooked rice rest under the lid off the heat for 10 minutes before fluffing.

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Huatia

After the potato harvest in May and June, families in Puno, Cusco and across the highlands build a huatia in the field: a little dome of dry earth clods heated with dried brush until the clods glow, then knocked down over freshly dug potatoes and oca so they bake slowly underground. Opened an hour later, the potatoes are smoky, floury and so soft their skins split, and the oca turns sweet and tangy. Everyone eats them with their hands, with salt, chilli sauce and fresh cheese. This recipe gives an oven method for home cooks: a lidded pot bedded with coarse salt and herbs, which traps heat and steam much like the earth. If you do try a real huatia outdoors, use a clear patch of ground away from anything that can catch fire and keep water nearby. Don't uncover the pot early to check: the steam escapes and the potatoes turn leathery. Fresh oca is sold in some markets as New Zealand yam; small sweet potatoes will do. Chef's tip: choose potatoes of a similar size so they all finish together, and serve with uchucuta.

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