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A flavorful methi chicken tikka combining fresh fenugreek with aromatic spices and yoghurt marinade. This recipe blends elements from various traditional preparations, resulting in a barbecue favorite with charred edges and tender, juicy meat.
The Texas hot link belongs to East Texas BBQ, a distinct tradition that grew out of the Black-owned grocery store and smokehouse culture of small towns like Pittsburg, Marshall and Tyler. It's a different animal from the Central Texas brisket houses an hour west: meat-market sausage built around aggressive seasoning, heavy on cayenne and black pepper, with a coarser grind than a hot dog and a noticeable beef-and-pork blend. The Pittsburg Hot Link, originating at H.A. Lawrence's in 1898 and still made in the town today, is the most famous version, but every East Texas smokehouse has its own recipe. What unites them is heat (real cayenne heat, not theatre), a deep red colour from sweet and hot paprika, a coarse texture from hand-mixed beef chuck and pork shoulder, and slow smoking over post-oak until the casings turn nearly black. For the home cook without a stuffer or a smoker, the technique adapts well: a mix of coarse-ground beef and pork is seasoned aggressively, stuffed (or formed into skinless coils), then slow-cooked on a covered grill set up for indirect heat with a small handful of wood chunks for smoke. The flavour is direct: hot, peppery, fatty, smoky, with enough garlic and onion to balance. Service in East Texas is purist: sliced or whole on a sheet of butcher paper, with white bread (for the fat), pickles, raw onion, hot sauce and yellow mustard. No barbecue sauce; the seasoning is the seasoning.
A burger that tastes like a Kashgar street kebab rather than a Western quarter-pounder. Cumin is the dominant note (Uyghur cooking uses it the way the rest of China uses Sichuan pepper); behind it sits sweet chilli powder for warmth without burn, and the lamb fat that catches a deep gold sear on the outside. The patty stays loose and juicy because the mix is bound with a single egg and a spoon of flour rather than pressed dense like a beef burger. Smell-wise: charred fat, cumin, and the sweet onion folded into the meat. Easy enough that you can do it on a weeknight as long as the mix has had its 3-hour rest in the fridge; the resting time is what makes the difference between a flat-tasting patty and one that eats like the real tonur version. The dish is a clear modern adaptation of the classic Uyghur cumin lamb kebab, scaled down for households without access to a clay tandoor, and increasingly common in cafés across Xinjiang and the Uyghur diaspora.
Yassa is one of the foundational dishes of Senegalese cooking, born in the Casamance region in the south of the country and carried by the Wolof and Joola diaspora across West Africa and beyond. At its heart it is a study in three things: acidity, alliums and smoke. Chicken is rubbed with a spice mix and marinated for hours in lemon juice, Dijon mustard, garlic and a heap of sliced onions, then charred over fire so the marinade caramelises in patches on the skin. The onions, meanwhile, are cooked low and slow in the leftover marinade with a little stock until they collapse into a glossy, tangy sauce that is both sweet and sharp. It is not a fiercely spicy dish, though a Scotch bonnet usually rides along in the pot for backbone, and the flavour profile is closer to a French-North African pickle than to the chilli-heavy stews further east. Difficulty is moderate: the cooking itself is easy, but yassa rewards patience at two stages, the marinade and the onion reduction. Serve over plain white rice or attieke so the sauce has somewhere to go.