Skip to content
Recipes

All recipes

Vegetarian, or something you can't eat? Set your diet once and we'll hide recipes that don't fit.

Sharlotka

Sharlotka is the cake every Russian family bakes in September, when dachas around Moscow and Saint Petersburg drown in Antonovka apples. It is nothing like Polish szarlotka with its shortcrust: here the tin is packed with sliced tart apples and a feather-light batter of whisked eggs, sugar and flour is poured over, so it bakes into an airy, crackly-topped sponge holding a soft apple layer. Only four ingredients, and it is on the table in under an hour with tea from the samovar. Chef's tip: whisk the eggs and sugar for a full 8 minutes until pale and tripled; that air is the only raising agent and a short whisk gives a flat, rubbery cake.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Kompot

Kompot is the drink of Russian summers: a big pan of water with whatever the garden or market offers, apples, cherries, redcurrants, strawberries, plums, simmered for a few minutes, lightly sweetened and served cold from the fridge. It is what children drink with lunch at school canteens and summer camps from Moscow to Novosibirsk, and dacha cellars are lined with three-litre jars of it bottled for winter. The fruit at the bottom of the glass is everyone's favourite part. Chef's tip: switch off the heat as soon as it boils and let the fruit steep as it cools; long boiling makes it taste stewed and dull.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Mushroom stroganoff

Beef stroganoff was named after the aristocratic Stroganov family of St Petersburg in the nineteenth century, and the original is strips of beef in a sauce of smetana and mustard. In Russian homes today the meatless version, made with forest mushrooms in autumn and button mushrooms the rest of the year, is just as common, especially during Orthodox fasts and on weeknights. It differs from Hungarian paprikás: no paprika, a gentle mustard edge, and a sauce that should stay pale and creamy. Serve it on fluffy buckwheat or mashed potatoes. Chef's tip: stir the smetana in off the boil; bubbling it hard makes it split into grainy curds.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Ovoshchnoe ragu

Ovoshchnoe ragu is what happens at a Russian dacha in August, when the garden outside Moscow or Nizhny Novgorod produces more courgettes, cabbage, peppers and new potatoes than anyone can eat. Everything is fried in turn, then stewed together in one heavy pot with tomato until soft and spoonable, and eaten hot with black bread, or cold the next day. It is homelier than French ratatouille or Greek briam: cabbage and potatoes give it body, and dill and garlic go in right at the end. Chef's tip: fry each vegetable separately before stewing; dumping everything in raw gives a watery, boiled taste.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Vol-au-vent

In Belgium a vol-au-vent is not a party nibble but a full plate: a big puff-pastry case filled with creamy chicken ragout, button mushrooms and tiny meatballs, served with chips in Brussels brasseries and for family celebrations and Sunday lunches all over the country. The little meatballs are made with pork mince, so this dish contains pork. The sauce is built on the poaching stock from the chicken, which gives it far more flavour than milk. A mistake many cooks make is filling the pastry too early, so the base turns soggy; fill the cases just before they go to the table. Chef's tip: poach the meatballs in the same stock as the chicken; they take just 5 minutes and season the broth further.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Ptichye moloko

Ptichye moloko, 'bird's milk', is named for the impossible treat in old fairy tales, and in 1978 Moscow's Praga restaurant turned it into a cake: a cloud of vanilla soufflé on a thin sponge, glazed with dark chocolate. Soviet shoppers queued for hours for the boxed version, and it is still the cake for birthdays and 8 March. The soufflé has always been set with agar, a seaweed jelly, which makes it naturally free of gelatine and gives a clean, springy bite. Chef's tip: boil the agar syrup to exactly 110°C (a thread forms between two fingers); undercooked syrup leaves the soufflé weepy and soft.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Olivier salad (vegetarian)

Salat Olivier was born in a fashionable Moscow restaurant in the 1860s, but today it belongs to every Russian kitchen on 31 December, when a bowl the size of a washing-up basin is made in the afternoon and eaten until 1 January is well over. Soviet cooks swapped the original's game for boiled sausage; this vegetarian version leaves it out and lets the sweet carrots, peas, sharp pickled cucumbers and creamy egg carry the salad. Chef's tip: cut everything to the size of a pea, the same size as the peas themselves; that is what makes Olivier feel like Olivier rather than potato salad.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Okroshka

When Moscow swelters in July, okroshka replaces every hot soup: a bowl of finely chopped radishes, cucumber, potato, egg and a forest of green onion and dill, with ice-cold kvass poured over at the table. It is the lunch of dacha weekends and of hot afternoons on the Volga, and families argue over whether kvass or kefir is the right base (kefir works well and is less sweet). The name comes from kroshit, to crumble, since everything is chopped small. Chef's tip: rub the spring onions and dill with salt first until they give off juice; it releases a green, pungent flavour that tastes of summer.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Pirozhki

Pirozhki, little oval pies of soft yeast dough, are what a Russian babushka has waiting on the kitchen table when the grandchildren arrive, and what used to be sold warm from steel carts at Moscow metro stations. They are eaten with a bowl of soup, packed for the train, or simply grabbed from the plate all afternoon. Fillings change with the season; the two most loved meatless ones are buttery cabbage with chopped egg and creamy mashed potato with fried onion and dill. Chef's tip: let the fillings cool completely before shaping; warm filling softens the dough and the buns tear and leak.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Geraardsbergse mattentaart

The small town of Geraardsbergen in East Flanders is so proud of its mattentaart that the little round puff-pastry tart has protected (PGI) status in the EU, and only bakers in the area may sell it under that name. It is filled with matten, a fresh curd made by curdling hot milk with buttermilk, mixed with eggs, sugar and a hint of almond, and baked until puffed and golden. Locals eat it with coffee, especially in late February when the town holds its Krakelingen festival. You make the curd yourself the day before. Chef's tip: hang the curd for a full night; too much whey left in it makes the filling weep and the pastry soggy.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Tomaat-garnaal

Along the Belgian coast, from Ostend to De Panne, tomaat-garnaal is the starter that tells you you are at the seaside: a hollowed raw tomato heaped with tiny, sweet North Sea grey shrimp in homemade mayonnaise, served with lettuce, lemon and often a few chips. The shrimp are caught and boiled on the boats, so they come ready-cooked and peeled. Because the dish has so few parts, everything depends on good ripe tomatoes and very fresh shrimp. The thing people often get wrong is drowning the shrimp in mayonnaise; use just enough to bind them so their sweetness comes through. Chef's tip: salt the hollowed tomatoes and turn them upside down for 10 minutes so they do not leak water onto the plate.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Speculoos spread

Speculoospasta, a sweet spread made from crushed spiced caramel biscuits, is a Flemish invention of the 2000s: a home cook took the idea to a Belgian TV contest for inventors, and within a few years it sat next to chocolate spread on breakfast tables across Belgium and the Netherlands. Belgians spread it thickly on bread or toast, stir it into yoghurt, or warm it to pour over ice cream. Homemade, it tastes more of cinnamon and caramel and less of sugar than shop jars. Chef's tip: blitz the biscuits to a powder as fine as flour before adding liquid; any grit left now stays gritty in the jar.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Liège waffles

In Liège, in French-speaking Wallonia, the waffle is not a light batter but a rich yeasted dough studded with pearl sugar, eaten warm from a paper sleeve as you walk down the street. As it cooks in a deep-grid iron, the sugar nuggets melt and caramelise into a crackling, toffee-like crust, while the inside stays soft and chewy like brioche. Belgians eat them plain, any time of day, not loaded with cream (that is the lighter Brussels waffle). Chef's tip: knead the pearl sugar in only at the very end, after the dough has risen; if it goes in earlier, it dissolves and the waffles lose their crunch.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Boulets liégeois

Liège is famous for its boulets: big, tennis-ball-sized meatballs served in a dark, sticky sauce made with sirop de Liège, the region's thick apple-and-pear syrup, with onions and a little vinegar. They are a brasserie staple across Wallonia, eaten with a mountain of chips and a side of salad, and families make them for Sunday lunch. The mix is half pork, half beef, so this is a pork dish. Rushing the onions is the step most people get wrong: they need a good 20 minutes to turn sweet before the sauce comes together. Chef's tip: if you cannot find sirop de Liège, use 3 tablespoons of apple butter or date syrup with 1 tablespoon of black treacle for the same dark, fruity tang.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Cuberdons

Cuberdons are the purple, cone-shaped sweets sold from handcarts on the Groentenmarkt in Ghent, where locals call them neuzekes, 'little noses'. A thin, firm sugar crust encloses a syrupy raspberry centre, and they only stay that way for about three weeks before the inside crystallises, which is why they have never become an export. They are made with gum arabic, not gelatine, so they suit vegetarians and vegans. Making them at home is a fun weekend project: the syrup is poured into cone-shaped hollows pressed into a tray of dry cornflour, which slowly draws moisture out and forms the crust. Chef's tip: use a sugar thermometer and be exact; just a few degrees too low and the cones never form a crust, a few too high and they set solid all the way through.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Gentse waterzooi

Ghent claims waterzooi as its own, and in the cafés around the Korenmarkt it is served in deep plates as a cross between soup and stew. Originally made with river fish, the city's version today is nearly always chicken, poached gently with leek, carrot, celery and potato, then the broth is enriched with cream and egg yolk until it turns silky and pale gold. It is eaten all year but tastes best on a damp Flemish evening, with crusty bread for the last of the broth. The mistake to avoid is boiling it after the yolks go in, which scrambles them; keep it below a simmer while it thickens. Chef's tip: cut the vegetables into fine, even julienne so they cook in the same time and look neat in the bowl.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Tarte au riz

In the province of Liège, and above all in the town of Verviers, no village fair (ducasse) or family celebration happens without tarte au riz, called rijsttaart in Flanders. A thin, soft yeast-dough crust holds a thick layer of rice cooked slowly in milk with vanilla and sugar, enriched with egg yolks and baked until the top is speckled brown. People buy whole tarts from the bakery for a birthday and eat them cold with coffee. Chef's tip: cook the rice until a spoon drawn through it leaves a clear path that closes slowly; a runny filling never sets in the oven, and the crust turns soggy.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Shchi

Shchi is the oldest soup in Russian cooking, the one the proverb pairs with porridge: 'shchi da kasha, pishcha nasha' (shchi and kasha, that's our food). In villages from Vologda to Ryazan it was left to mellow in the warmth of the big masonry stove, and in summer and early autumn it is made with fresh young cabbage rather than the sour winter version. Unlike Ukrainian kapusniak there is no sauerkraut or millet here: just sweet cabbage, root vegetables, tomato, bay and dill, with a cold spoon of smetana stirred into each bowl. Chef's tip: shchi tastes better the next day, so make it a day ahead and reheat gently.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Asperges à la flamande

In May and June, white asparagus from Mechelen and the sandy fields around Limburg arrive in Belgian markets, and asperges à la flamande (asperges op Vlaamse wijze) is the way to eat them. The pale spears are peeled and cooked until tender, then covered with a warm sauce of melted butter, chopped hard-boiled egg, parsley and nutmeg that is half sauce and half garnish. It is served as a starter in Flemish restaurants all through the short asparagus season, sometimes with a slice of ham alongside; here it stays meat-free. Chef's tip: peel the spears from just below the tip all the way down with a swivel peeler; white asparagus has a thick, bitter skin, and missing even a strip leaves woody threads.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Stoofvlees

In Flanders, from Antwerp's frituren to Sunday kitchens in Bruges, stoofvlees is the stew that comes with a cone of double-fried chips and a spoonful of mayonnaise. Chunks of beef chuck are browned hard, then cooked slowly with lots of onion and a dark Belgian brown or abbey-style beer, thickened at the end by a slice of bread spread with mustard that melts into the sauce. The finished gravy is glossy, sweet-sour and deep, with a little brown sugar and vinegar to balance the bitterness. This recipe contains alcohol, though long cooking drives most of it off; for an alcohol-free version use the same amount of alcohol-free dark beer, or beef stock with a tablespoon of extra vinegar and a teaspoon of extra sugar. Browning the meat in one crowded batch is the classic mistake; it stews grey instead of searing. Chef's tip: cook it a day ahead and reheat gently; the flavour rounds out overnight.

205 minBelgianMeat
by KrazyBadal 0 views

Pain à la grecque

Despite the name, pain à la grecque is pure Brussels: the 'Greek' is thought to come from the Flemish gracht, the canal next to the old abbey on the Wolvengracht whose monks handed out bread to the poor. Today it is a long, flat stick of cinnamon-spiced bread pressed into pearl sugar and baked until the sugar melts into a crunchy, glassy crust. Brussels bakeries such as those around the Sablon sell it by the slab, and it is eaten with coffee in the afternoon or dunked at breakfast. Chef's tip: press the dough hard into the pearl sugar on both sides; loosely scattered sugar just falls off in the oven.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Chicons au gratin

Chicons au gratin, or witloof in de oven in Flemish, is the winter Sunday dish of Belgian grandmothers: whole heads of Belgian endive braised until silky, then baked in a nutmeg-scented cheese sauce until bubbling and brown. Endive was first forced in the dark cellars around Brussels in the 1800s, and it is still grown in the fields of Flemish Brabant. Traditionally each chicon is rolled in a slice of cooked ham; this vegetarian version leaves the ham out and lets the gentle bitterness of the endive meet the sweetness of the cheese. Serve it with mashed potato or crusty bread. Chef's tip: squeeze the braised endives firmly in a clean towel before they go in the dish; they hold a lot of water, and skipping this turns the sauce thin and watery in the oven.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Stoemp with leeks and spinach

Stoemp (from the Brussels dialect word for 'to mash') is what Brussels brasseries such as those around the Marolles serve on cold days: potatoes crushed together with whatever vegetable is in season, rich with butter and nutmeg. Unlike Dutch stamppot, the vegetables are usually cooked separately and softened in butter first, which gives a sweeter, silkier mash. Leek and spinach is one of the most popular versions in Brussels, and a fried egg with a runny yolk on top turns it into supper. The meat versions come with sausages; this is meat-free. Chef's tip: cook the leeks slowly in butter until they almost melt; quick-fried leeks stay stringy and squeaky in the mash.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Kvass

Before the cola era, kvass was Russia's everyday thirst-quencher, sold every summer from yellow barrel trailers on Moscow street corners and poured into glass mugs. At home it is brewed from dried rye bread, sugar and a pinch of yeast, fermented for a day or two until it tastes malty, a little sour and gently fizzy, and only about 1% alcohol. It is drunk ice cold and is also the broth for okroshka. Chef's tip: toast the bread until really dark, almost burnt at the edges; that is where kvass gets its deep colour and its toasted, malty taste.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Showing 24 of 59 recipes

Show more recipes

Page 1 of 3