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Kerau ko tarkari

Kerau ko tarkari turns up on Nepali tables in winter, when fresh peas are cheap in Kathmandu's Asan market, and it is a favourite in children's tiffin boxes with beaten rice or roti. Potatoes and peas are simmered with cumin, tomato and a little timur pepper until the potatoes start to break and thicken a soft, golden gravy. It is mild enough for children and goes with rice, roti or sel roti. The usual mistake is adding the peas with the potatoes: fresh peas go grey and mushy, so add them once the potatoes are half cooked. Chef's tip: crush a few potato pieces with the back of the spoon at the end; it gives the gravy body without cream.

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Jwano ko jhol

Jwano ko jhol is the soup Nepali families make for a mother in the weeks after a birth, and for anyone in the house who has a cold during the Kathmandu winter. Carom seeds are fried in ghee with a spoon of flour until nutty, then whisked with water, garlic and ginger into a thin, peppery, slightly thyme-like broth that is sipped hot from a bowl or poured over rice. The usual mistake is burning the jwano: it turns bitter in seconds, so take it off the heat as soon as it darkens a shade. Chef's tip: whisk the water in a little at a time, as with gravy, so the flour never forms lumps.

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Kafae boran (old-style Thai coffee)

Before espresso bars reached Bangkok, coffee in Thailand meant kafae boran from Hainanese-Chinese shophouses and market carts: a dark robusta roast mixed with toasted grains, poured through a long cotton sock called a tung tom and stirred into thick sweetened condensed milk. Uncles still order it hot at 6 am with patongko dough sticks, and in the afternoon heat the same brew is poured over crushed ice and topped with evaporated milk as oliang or kafae yen. The taste is strong, roasty and slightly smoky, sweet and creamy, with a faint caramel-cereal edge from the grains; the iced version is silky and cold. The common mistake is brewing it like filter coffee with too little grounds: once milk and ice go in, it tastes thin. Use plenty, steep it in the sock and pour it through twice. The brew is ready when it is opaque, nearly black and leaves a brown film on a white spoon. It is high in caffeine, so not one for children or late evenings. Chef's tip: rinse the cloth sock in hot water only, never soap, and keep it in a jar of clean water in the fridge between uses so the coffee oils season it.

10 minThaiDrinksGluten free
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Yen ta fo

You recognise a bowl of yen ta fo across a Bangkok food court by its startling pink colour, which comes from fermented red bean curd stirred into the sauce. Around the soi off Sala Daeng it is a lunchtime favourite: wide rice noodles in clear stock with bouncy fish balls, tender squid, fried tofu puffs, blanched morning glory and a scattering of crunchy fried wonton skins, with a sweet, sour and gently funky flavour. Chef's tip: add the squid only in the last minute; overcooked squid turns as chewy as a rubber band.

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Mas ko dal

Mas ko dal, made from whole black urad, is the thick, dark dal of the Nepali hills, cooked in heavy pots in Kathmandu, Gorkha and the Newar towns, especially on cold days and for festival meals. Slow cooking makes it creamy and earthy, and the tempering of jimbu, garlic and cumin in hot mustard oil gives it the scent of the Himalaya. Eat with rice, roti or dhido. Suitable as part of a balanced diet, it is high in protein and fibre: about 250 kcal and 30 g carbohydrate per portion; brown rice or millet dhido suits it well. The usual mistake is not soaking the lentils, which leaves them hard and the dal thin; soak them overnight. Chef's tip: simmer the dal with a few ginger slices and mash it lightly with a wooden spoon at the end for the classic thick texture.

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Mismas tarkari

Mismas means 'mixed up', and this is the vegetable dish that fills the second bowl of almost every Nepali dal-bhat, from Terai farmhouses to Kathmandu flats. Potato, cauliflower, green beans and peas are cooked together in one pan with turmeric, cumin and a dark fenugreek-seed tempering, then softened with tomato until everything is tender but still holds its shape. The usual mistake is putting all the vegetables in at once: cauliflower and peas turn to mush before the potatoes are done, so start the potatoes first. Chef's tip: a pinch of jimbu or a few crushed timur grains in the tempering gives the authentic Himalayan aroma.

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Kluay ping

Kluay ping carts work the pavements of Silom and the lanes off Sukhumvit from mid-morning, when office workers want something sweet with their iced coffee. The vendor grills small, starchy nam wa bananas slowly over embers, presses each one flat with a wooden board and then brushes it with coconut cream cooked down with palm sugar and a pinch of salt. The outside turns sticky and smoky; the inside stays soft and fudgy. Ladyfinger bananas or firm, just-ripe small bananas work at home. Chef's tip: choose bananas that are yellow with no brown spots; overripe fruit turns to mush on the grill.

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Khanom pang sangkhaya

In Bangkok, from the old Chinese coffee shops of Yaowarat to night markets, khanom pang sangkhaya is soft steamed or toasted bread dunked into a bowl of bright green pandan custard made with coconut milk and egg. It is eaten in the morning with patongko dough sticks and strong iced coffee. The mistake is cooking the custard over high heat; the egg scrambles and it turns grainy, so stir it slowly over a gentle flame. Chef's tip: blitz fresh pandan leaves with a splash of water and squeeze the juice through a cloth; it gives a colour and fragrance that essence can't match.

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Kratiam dong

Order khao kha moo, the braised pork leg on rice sold from Bangkok shophouses to Chiang Mai night markets, and a few cloves of kratiam dong come on the side; they also sit in a bowl beside nam prik, congee, sai ua sausage and Isan-style sour pork. The garlic is picked young in the cool season, from December to February, when the heads are small, the skins thin and the cloves still tender, and it is cured whole so you nibble the cloves straight from the head. After about a month in brine the harshness is gone: the garlic is crunchy, sweet-sour and only faintly pungent, and the brine itself becomes a seasoning for stir-fries and dipping sauces. Common mistake: skipping the first salt-and-vinegar soak; it draws out the raw sting and some water, so the final brine stays strong. Do not worry if a few cloves turn blue-green; that is a harmless reaction between garlic and acid. They are ready when a clove bites through crisp and sweet with no burn. Chef's tip: look for small young heads at Asian grocers in early spring; large mature garlic works, but separate it into cloves and peel it.

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Luk chin ping

Outside Bangkok's schools at going-home time, and all evening around Victory Monument, vendors fan little charcoal grills lined with skewers of luk chin, bouncy meatballs that are pulled off the coals, dunked in a tub of sticky sweet chilli sauce and handed over in a plastic bag. This home version makes the springy pork balls from scratch, poaching them first so they cook through before they char. Children love them; leave the chillies out of a portion of sauce for little ones. Chef's tip: process the pork with iced water until it turns into a sticky paste; that is what gives the balls their famous bounce.

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Mula ko tarkari

In the hills around Kathmandu and Pokhara, long white winter radishes are pulled with their leaves still on, and both go into this simple tarkari served beside dal-bhat. The radish is cut into thin batons and cooked down in mustard oil with a sizzle of fenugreek seed, turmeric and tingly timur pepper until it turns sweet and translucent, while the greens wilt in at the end. The usual mistake is adding too much water: radish releases plenty of its own juice, and extra water turns it into a bland soup. Chef's tip: let the fenugreek seeds turn dark brown, almost black, before the radish goes in; that toasty bitterness is what makes Nepali radish taste right.

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Chhwela

Chhwela (also called choila) is a Newar dish from the Kathmandu Valley, served at festivals, feasts and family gatherings, and today in every bar and snack house as a spicy side. Meat is grilled until smoky, cut small and tossed with a dressing of spices and fenugreek seeds fried in smoking mustard oil, plus raw garlic, ginger, chilli, timur pepper and lime. Buffalo is traditional; this version uses chicken, and lean beef works too. It is high in protein and suitable as part of a balanced diet; eat it with a salad of cucumber and radish rather than a big pile of beaten rice. About 290 kcal and 5 g carbohydrate per portion. The usual mistake is pouring the mustard oil on before it smokes, which leaves a raw, harsh taste. Chef's tip: grill the meat until well charred at the edges, because the smokiness is the point.

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Simi ko tarkari

Simi ko tarkari is cooked all summer in Nepal, when runner and French beans climb the bamboo poles of every hill farm, and it is one of the dry sides on the plate with dal, rice and achar. The beans are stir-fried in mustard oil with cumin, garlic and tomato, and finished with crushed timur, Nepal's citrusy, tingling pepper. Suitable as part of a balanced diet, it is a high-fibre vegetable side: about 110 kcal and 10 g carbohydrate per portion. The usual mistake is covering the pan for too long, which steams the beans grey; keep the heat high and the lid off for most of the cooking. Chef's tip: toast the timur briefly in a dry pan before crushing; its lemony scent doubles.

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Tibetan fried bread

Trekkers in the Everest and Annapurna regions, and early risers in Kathmandu's Boudha neighbourhood, know this bread: rounds of dough slashed down the middle and fried until they puff, golden outside and soft inside. Tibetan families eat it with honey or jam, with a bowl of potato or chickpea curry, and with salty butter tea. The mistake is rolling the dough too thin; at about 1 cm thick it stays tender, while thin dough fries into a hard cracker. Chef's tip: let the shaped rounds rest for 10 minutes before frying so the gluten relaxes and the bread balloons evenly.

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Jok moo

In Bangkok, jok is breakfast at a roadside stall or the market at 6 am: broken jasmine rice cooked until almost smooth, with tender pork balls, an egg cracked in at the last moment, and heaps of ginger, spring onion and crisp patongko or fried dough. Seasoning sits on the table, so everyone adds soy, white pepper and chilli vinegar to taste. For a meat-free bowl, swap the pork balls for shiitake mushrooms and cubes of silken tofu, and use soy instead of fish sauce. The common mistake is a thin, watery jok; keep simmering until it holds a soft ribbon. Chef's tip: whisk the cooked rice hard for a minute at the end; it breaks the last grains and makes the porridge creamy.

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Khai kata

Khai kata, "pan eggs", came to Thailand through the Vietnamese communities of Isan, and in Udon Thani and Nong Khai, and now in Bangkok cafés too, it arrives sizzling in its own little metal pan with toppings of pork mince and sweet Chinese sausage, plus a crusty roll and a strong coffee. The eggs are cooked just until the whites set. The common mistake is cracking the eggs onto raw mince; cook the pork through first, then add the eggs. Chef's tip: heat the pan before the eggs go in, so the whites set at the edges with lacy, crisp frills.

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Khao kai jiao

When there is no time for anything else, Bangkok office workers, students and taxi drivers eat khao khai jiao: eggs beaten with fish sauce and poured into very hot oil so they puff into a lacy, golden, crisp-edged omelette, slid onto a mound of jasmine rice with a squirt of chilli sauce. It is also the omelette mothers put in school lunch boxes. The common mistake is oil that is not hot enough, so the egg sits flat and greasy instead of ballooning up. For a vegetarian version, season with light soy sauce instead of fish sauce. Chef's tip: beat in a squeeze of lime and a spoon of water until very frothy; the air and steam make it puff dramatically.

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Kaeng khilek

Kaeng khilek is an old-fashioned country curry from central Thailand, cooked when the cassia (khilek) trees put out tender shoots after the rains and sold ready-boiled in bags at markets around Ratchaburi and Suphan Buri. The leaves are boiled and drained several times until their bitterness softens, then simmered with pork belly in coconut milk with red curry paste, leaving a dark green, pleasantly bitter, rich curry eaten with jasmine rice and salted egg. This recipe contains pork. The usual mistake is skipping the repeated boiling: cassia leaves must be boiled and drained at least three times, or they are harshly bitter and can upset the stomach. Frozen pre-boiled khilek from Thai shops saves work. Chef's tip: squeeze the boiled leaves firmly in a cloth so they soak up coconut milk instead of water.

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Nam lamyai (longan drink)

Longan orchards cover the valleys of Chiang Mai and Lamphun, and every August the harvest is smoked and dried in big brick ovens so the fruit lasts all year. That dried lamyai is the base of nam lamyai, sold in plastic bags with a straw at Warorot Market, at roadside stalls on the way to Doi Suthep and in school canteens across the north, especially in the hot season from March to May. It tastes like toffee and smoked honey with a light floral note, and each glass comes with a few plump, chewy longans at the bottom to fish out. The common mistake is boiling the fruit too long with all the sugar at the start: the drink turns syrupy and the longans go mushy. Simmer the fruit first, sweeten at the end and taste before adding everything. It is ready when the liquid is clear amber-brown, the longans have swollen back to roughly their fresh size and the kitchen smells of caramel. It keeps 4 days in a closed jug in the fridge. Chef's tip: a tiny pinch of salt is the street-vendor trick that makes the sweetness taste rounder and brings out the smoky edge.

30 minThaiDrinksVeganGluten free
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Khao kha moo

Khao kha moo is Bangkok's great one-plate lunch, and the shophouses along Charoen Krung Road in Bang Rak have been simmering pork leg in the same dark, star-anise-scented pots for decades. Fresh pork hock is braised in soy, palm sugar and five-spice until the skin turns glossy and gelatinous and the meat falls away in tender strands. It is sliced onto jasmine rice with a soy-stained boiled egg, pickled mustard greens, blanched Chinese kale and a fierce green chilli and garlic vinegar to cut the richness. Chef's tip: keep the braise at a lazy simmer; a hard boil tears the skin and turns the meat stringy.

185 minThaiMeat
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Prik nam som

On every noodle-shop table in Thailand, from Bangkok's boat-noodle stalls to small kuay teow shops in Hat Yai, there is a rack of four little jars: sugar, chilli flakes, fish sauce and prik nam som. A few drops of this sharp chilli vinegar wake up kuay teow nam, pad see ew, rad na and khao man gai at lunch or late at night, and the softened chilli slices are spooned on too. It is bright, clean and sour first, then hot, with a grassy chilli aroma; the slices stay crisp for a day or two and turn mellow after that. The Thai version uses long green or red chillies (prik chee fa) for colour and fragrance and just a few bird's-eye chillies for real heat. Common mistake: blending the chillies with the vinegar; it should be thin and clear with floating rings, so slice them by hand. It is ready after 15 minutes, once the vinegar turns faintly green-gold and smells of chilli. Chef's tip: a pinch of salt and a teaspoon of sugar round off harsh supermarket vinegar; leave them out if you have mild Thai coconut or rice vinegar.

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Pa thong ko

Before the shutters go up along Yaowarat Road in Bangkok's Chinatown, the pa thong ko vendors are already frying: two strips of dough pressed together, stretched and dropped into a wok of oil, where they swell into hollow, crackly sticks shaped a little like a pair of legs. Office workers buy a paper bag on the way to the skytrain and eat them with a cup of hot soy milk, or tear them into pieces and dip them in green pandan custard or condensed milk. This home version is egg-free and dairy-free and is served with sweetened soy milk. Chef's tip: let the dough rest for the full hour; a relaxed dough stretches without tearing and puffs far more in the oil.

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Pharsi ko tarkari

When the big ridged pumpkins are harvested in the Nepali hills in autumn, pharsi ko tarkari appears at every Dashain and Tihar family meal and on ordinary weekday plates of dal-bhat. Cubes of pumpkin are tempered with fenugreek seed and cooked slowly in their own steam until soft, sweet and lightly caramelised in places, with just a hint of chilli. Children love it with rice or roti. The usual mistake is stirring too often: the pumpkin breaks into puree, so turn it gently only two or three times. Chef's tip: leave the skin on young pumpkin; it holds the cubes together and turns tender as it cooks.

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Laphing

Laphing came to Kathmandu with Tibetan families, and the alleys around the great stupa at Boudha are full of tiny stalls selling it every afternoon, to monks, students and office workers alike. Flour dough is washed in water to separate the starch from the gluten; the starch is steamed into thin, jelly-like sheets and the gluten into a spongy filling, then everything is rolled up and drowned in fiery chilli oil, garlic water, soy sauce and vinegar. It is cold, slippery, chewy and very hot. Contains wheat (gluten) and soya. Chef's tip: steam each sheet no thicker than 3 mm; thick layers set rubbery instead of silky.

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