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.

Chai nabat (saffron rock candy tea)

Pilgrims leaving Mashhad carry home boxes of saffron nabat, crystals of rock candy grown on a string and tinted gold with Khorasani saffron. Across Iran a glass of chai nabat is what you are handed when you feel unwell, after a shock, after an exam, or late at night when the evening meal sits heavy; it is traditionally drunk to settle the stomach and warm you up. The tea is brewed strong in a teapot that sits on top of the kettle, then poured clear and amber into small glasses, and the nabat stick is stirred until it softens the tea with a gentle, honeyed sweetness and a faint saffron aroma. Black tea has a moderate amount of caffeine, so give children a weaker glass. A common mistake is boiling the leaves or letting them steep on direct heat, which turns the tea bitter and murky; Persian tea is "dam" — brewed gently on steam. It is ready when the leaves have sunk, the tea is clear and reddish-amber and it smells of bergamot or cardamom. Chef's tip: hold the glass up to the light; if you can't see through it, top it up with hot water, as Iranians do.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Ash-e shalghamTurnip and rice soup

In Tehran and Mashhad homes, ash-e shalgham is the pot put on the stove when someone in the family catches a cold in the first frosts of winter. Turnips and rice are simmered together until the turnips melt and the rice thickens the soup, which ends up soft, sweet and peppery, with a fried-onion and turmeric base. Many families add a little lamb; this one is vegan. The usual mistake is using big, old turnips, which taste bitter and woody; choose small, heavy ones. Chef's tip: grate half the turnips and dice the rest, so the soup is creamy yet still has pieces to bite.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Khanom pang sangkhayaBread with pandan custard

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

DiziLamb and chickpea stew

Dizi, also called abgoosht, is Tehran's working lunch, served at old teahouses and bazaar canteens in individual stone pots, and cooked at home on cold Fridays. Lamb on the bone, chickpeas, white beans, potatoes, tomato and dried lime cook gently for hours. At the table you pour off the broth and soak torn sangak or lavash bread in it (tilit), then pound the meat, beans and potato into a coarse paste (goosht kubideh) to eat with herbs, raw onion and pickles. The usual mistake is adding the potatoes at the start: they collapse and cloud the broth. Slow-cooker: after the beans' hard boil, cook everything except the potatoes on low for 10 hours, adding them for the last 2. Chef's tip: pierce the dried limes so they flavour the broth without turning it bitter, and lift them out before pounding.

245 minPersianMeatGluten free
by KrazyBadal 0 views

Sharbat-e zaferan (saffron sherbet)

Big steel urns of golden saffron sherbet are poured for guests at Iranian weddings and engagement parties, and the same drink is handed out on the street as nazri during Muharram and at memorial gatherings, when families offer something sweet and cool in the name of the departed. Saffron from Khorasan is ground with a sugar cube, bloomed in a little water and stirred into syrup with rose water and lemon. The result is honey-sweet and floral, with saffron's faint bitterness and hay-like perfume at the end, and a colour that should be a clear, sunny orange-gold. The usual mistake is dropping whole threads straight into cold water, which gives a pale, patchy drink and wastes expensive saffron; grind it first and let it bloom for at least 10 minutes. You know the bloom is ready when the water is a deep red-orange and smells strongly of saffron. Taste before serving: it should be sweet but finish clean, with the lemon just noticeable. Chef's tip: an ice cube placed on the ground saffron and left to melt slowly gives the deepest colour of all, an old Iranian trick.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Asal-o-khamehClotted cream and honey on flatbread

On Friday mornings in Tehran and Isfahan, families queue at the bakery for hot barbari or sangak, then come home to a treat: thick clotted cream, called khameh or sarshir, drizzled with honey and scooped up with the warm bread, alongside glasses of black tea. The mistake is serving it with cold bread; the warmth is what softens the cream into the honey. Honey is not suitable for babies under one. Chef's tip: let the cream sit out for 10 minutes and spread it first, then drizzle the honey in a thin stream so you get sweet ribbons rather than a puddle.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Kluay pingGrilled banana

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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
by KrazyBadal 0 views

Luk chin pingGrilled pork ball skewers

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Yen ta foPink noodle soup

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Ash-e dooghYogurt soup with rice and chickpeas

Ash-e doogh is the summer and autumn soup of Ardabil and the Azeri north-west of Iran, cooked in big pots for family gatherings and sold in bowls in the bazaars. Rice and chickpeas are simmered in tangy yoghurt with handfuls of dill, coriander, spinach and mint, and the soup is topped with crisp fried onion and dried mint. It is creamy and sour, never heavy. The usual mistake is stopping stirring: the yoghurt splits into grains if left to boil alone, so stir in one direction without stopping until it comes to the boil. Chef's tip: beat a spoonful of rice flour into the yoghurt before heating; it stabilises it and keeps the soup silky.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Sharbat-e bidmeshk (willow blossom sherbet)

Kashan and the villages of Qamsar and Niasar are famous for distilling flowers in spring: rose water in May, and before that araq-e bidmeshk, the distillate of the fuzzy catkins of the musk willow. In summer, when the desert heat settles over the old houses, the same bottles go into sharbat-e bidmeshk, a pale syrup diluted with icy water and served to guests in tall glasses, sometimes with swollen basil seeds. It is traditionally drunk to calm the nerves and cool the body. The taste is delicate, sweet and haunting, somewhere between honeysuckle, musk and fresh hay. The common mistake is adding the distillate to hot syrup; the heat drives the scent away within minutes, so cool the syrup completely first. The syrup is ready when it is clear and pours like thin honey, and the finished sherbet should smell floral the moment you lift the glass. Look for the distillate in Iranian shops; there is no true substitute, though rose water with a few drops of orange-blossom water makes a pleasant but different drink. Chef's tip: a squeeze of lemon in the syrup stops it crystallising in the fridge, where it keeps for a month.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Sharbat-e rivas (rhubarb sherbet)

For a few weeks in spring, after Nowruz, sellers come down from the Alborz foothills, the mountains of Khorasan and Kurdistan with bundles of rivas, the thick-stalked wild rhubarb. People peel and eat the stalks raw with salt, cook them into khoresh, and boil the rest into syrup to keep the taste of the season into summer. Sharbat-e rivas is pink, sharp and refreshing, like sour cherry and green apple together, softened by sugar and lifted by mint. The common mistake is boiling the rhubarb hard and pressing it through the sieve, which makes the syrup cloudy, brownish and stringy; simmer gently and let it drip on its own. Use only the stalks, never the leaves, which are poisonous. The syrup is ready when it is clear, rose-coloured and coats a spoon in a thin film; it keeps for two weeks in a clean bottle in the fridge, and should be thrown away if it fizzes, smells of alcohol or grows mould. Garden rhubarb is a good substitute for rivas; the reddest stalks give the prettiest colour. Chef's tip: a strip of lemon peel in the pot brightens the colour and stops the syrup tasting flat.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Ardeh shirehTahini and grape molasses spread

In Iranian homes, especially in Yazd and the central provinces, a small dish of ardeh shireh sits on the winter breakfast spread: smooth tahini swirled with dark grape molasses into a marbled, sticky spread that tastes like a grown-up peanut butter and jam. It is mopped up with warm flatbread and washed down with tea. The mistake is beating the two together until uniform; you lose the swirls and the spread turns dull. Fold just a few times. Chef's tip: stir the tahini jar well first, because the oil separates, and use runny, well-stirred tahini for the best ribbons. Serve with flatbread, or gluten-free crackers if you need it gluten free.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Jok mooRice porridge with pork balls

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Khai kataPan eggs with pork and sausage

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Khao kai jiaoThai omelette over rice

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

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
by KrazyBadal 0 views

Khao kha mooBraised pork leg rice

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
by KrazyBadal 0 views

Kratiam dongPickled garlic

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Pa thong koTwin fried dough sticks

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Prik nam somChillies in vinegar

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Kaeng khilekCassia leaf curry

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.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Homemade kashkFermented yogurt whey

Kashk began with Iran's nomadic herders, who churned their yoghurt for butter in goatskin bags, then cooked and dried the sour leftover into hard balls that lasted through winter. In Kerman, Fars and Khorasan it is still made that way, but in Tehran most people buy it liquid in jars. Making your own is worth one slow afternoon. It is the salty, sour, almost cheesy finish swirled over ash reshteh at Nowruz, folded into kashk-e bademjan with fried mint and walnuts, and stirred into kaleh joosh on cold nights. Liquid kashk is thick and creamy like soured cream but sharper and saltier; dried kashk is chalky-hard and grates like aged cheese. Common mistake: heating the churned yoghurt fast; it scorches and the curd turns rubbery. Keep the heat low and stir. The curd is ready when it separates into soft white clumps in a clear, yellow-green whey. Kashk is always cooked again before eating — even the jarred kind — so heat it when you use it. Chef's tip: a goat or sheep's milk yoghurt, or half and half with cow's, gives the most authentic, funky flavour.

by KrazyBadal 0 views

Showing 24 of 281 recipes

Show more recipes

Page 1 of 12