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A simple syrup of rice vinegar, palm sugar, water and salt is brought to a gentle simmer to dissolve the sugar, then cooled. Cucumber, shallot and chilli are sliced thin and combined in a small bowl. The cooled syrup is poured over. Rested for 10-15 minutes for the vegetables to wilt slightly into the dressing. Served in small individual ramekins as a dip, OR in a larger bowl as a side, with peanuts sprinkled on top.
Aromatic salt is specifically designed for British-Indian Balti cooking, a finishing salt that brings subtle spice notes rather than aggressive heat. This is about using salt as a vehicle for flavor rather than just seasoning. The two versions allow choice between delicate (light version) and more assertive (spicy version). Both blend sea salt with warm spices, creating finishing touches that elevate a dish without overwhelming it.
Each vegetable cooks separately and gets dressed with sesame oil, garlic and soy. They arrange in colourful piles around a mound of rice; an egg fries on top. Gochujang sauce on the side. Diners mix vigorously before eating.
The Burmese take on the South Asian samosa, with a thinner, crisper pastry and a milder filling than its Indian cousin. You make a hot-water dough that rolls out very thin so the fried shell ends up glassy and crisp rather than bready. The filling is mild by Indian standards: turmeric, ginger, fried onion and a whisper of cumin folded into mashed potato and peas, finished with crushed peanuts for the nuttiness that marks the Burmese version. The triangles fry at moderate heat until amber and crackling, the pastry blistering as it goes. Eaten hot dipped in tamarind sauce, or torn into chunks for a samusa-thoke salad later.
The older, more ceremonial form of lahpet, the version that predates the salad. Unlike lahpet thoke (the salad), there's no cabbage, no tomato, no fresh dressing - the fermented tea leaves stay pungent and concentrated, and the fried elements supply texture and salt. You keep all the components separate on a divided plate until they reach the table, so the crispy bits don't soften, and each guest builds their own bite from the spread. Eaten as an afternoon teashop snack with a small cup of green tea, or traditionally at the close of formal meals as a sign of welcome and reconciliation - a Burmese custom that dates back centuries and still turns up at weddings.
A hearty Spanish soup featuring sweet chestnuts paired with spicy chorizo sausage, caramelized vegetables, and warming spices. The saffron adds a subtle earthiness, creating a comforting autumnal dish with rich, smoky flavors.
A bright and spicy Sri Lankan-inspired curry with a curry-house spin, featuring aromatic spices, coconut, and fresh curry leaves. It works beautifully as a banquet dish and can be extra hot with extra bird’s eye chillies and chilli powder. The subtle sweet-tang tuning makes it a favorite with rice and mild dhal.
Spicy, thin jungle curry from Chiang Mai, traditionally made with jungle ingredients and game meat. No coconut milk; features a clear, flavorful broth with chicken and vegetables. Serve with sticky rice.
This is a hugely popular dish at Thai restaurants and takeaways, and my family love it. It is important to cut the chicken pieces so that they are about the same size as the cashews (although this is more for presentation as large chunks also work fine). You can mix the sauce and fry the cashews, chillies and chicken a day or so in advance, making this a dish you can cook up very quickly after work with little mess. The first time I tried making this recipe, I burnt the cashews and chillies. Don’t make the same mistake or you’ll have to start all over again. They don’t take long to colour in the oil and cashews aren’t cheap, so keep an eye on them. Although there’s nothing stopping you from doing so, the dried and fried chillies are not meant to be eaten. I like to serve this curry with jasmine rice.
A xacuti masala is built by dry-roasting fresh coconut to a deep mahogany brown alongside a long list of whole spices (Kashmiri and byadgi chillies, coriander, cumin, fennel, peppercorns, cinnamon, cloves, star anise, mace) and grinding them with onion, garlic and ginger into a black-brown paste. The chicken is browned briefly, the paste added, water poured in to cook the chicken through, and tamarind stirred in to finish. The trick is in the roast: the coconut should be almost-burnt, with the bitterness offset by the tamarind.
Two-stage flavour build: first a spice infusion (whole spices soaked briefly in water, then simmered slowly in vegetable oil with spring onion and ginger), then a sizzle (the hot strained oil poured over a heat-proof bowl of chilli flakes, smoked paprika, soy and Chinese vinegar). Cooling. Mixing in the textural elements: caster sugar, salt, chicken stock powder, crispy fried shallots and crispy fried garlic. Jarred, rested 24 hours so the flavours marry, stirred vigorously before each use because the oil and solids separate.
Fresh coconut is ground with green chilli, ginger, roasted gram and a small splash of water into a smooth paste. The chutney is finished with a tempering of mustard seeds, dried red chilli, curry leaves and asafoetida in hot oil, poured over the white chutney for a striking visual and aromatic contrast.
Plain steamed rice (often last night's leftovers) is the base. A hot temper of mustard seeds, urad dal, chana dal, cashews, dried red chilli and curry leaves is bloomed in coconut oil, then fresh grated coconut is folded in and warmed through. The rice is tossed through everything off the heat, so the grains stay separate and pick up flavour rather than soften.
A soft yeasted olive-oil dough rises for 45 minutes. The filling: spinach wilts briefly in salted water and is squeezed bone-dry; chopped onion massages with salt to soften and weep; the two combine with sumac, lemon juice, pomegranate molasses, olive oil and toasted pine nuts. The dough divides into 12 balls; each rolls into a 12 cm disc; a spoon of filling sits in the centre; the disc folds into a tricorn (three corners pinched up to meet at the top). Baked at 220°C 15-18 minutes until deep gold.
A mix of raw and lightly-blanched vegetables; firm tofu pan-fried; hard-boiled eggs halved. The peanut sauce is built fresh from roasted peanuts blended with garlic, chilli, kecap manis, tamarind, lime and water. Pour over at the table; toss; eat.
Spicy Thai salad with glass noodles, prawns, and pork. Nostalgic dish from Thai barbecues; serve hot or at room temperature.
Go Bo Hoi An is a piquant Vietnamese beef salad featuring thinly sliced seared beef tossed with crisp vegetables, fresh herbs, and a bright tamarind-lime dressing. This dish has delicate undertones of lime and garlic which carry through the tamarind flavours perfectly. The combination of tender beef, crunchy vegetables, aromatic herbs, and crispy rice papers creates a textural and flavourful celebration of Vietnamese cuisine. Quick to make but requires advance preparation, ensure the salad, dressing, and toppings are made and ready to use before cooking the beef.
Poached chicken is shredded and tossed with finely shredded cabbage, carrot and onion that has been softened in a light vinegar bath. A bright nước chấm style dressing brings everything together and toasted peanuts and fried shallots finish the top. The trick is balance: the salad should be crunchy, not waterlogged, and the dressing should taste sharp on its own before it hits the salad.
Famous Thai salad (som tum) with sour, sweet, savory, and spicy flavors. Pounded dressing coats crispy papaya and vegetables. Make ahead; won't wilt.
Jhal muri (literally "spicy puffed rice") is the most democratic snack in Bengal: assembled in seconds from a tin trunk by a muriwala, tipped into a rolled-newspaper cone, and eaten standing on a pavement for the price of a few rupees. The base is muri (puffed rice), and everything else is built around the principle of contrast. Raw mustard oil is the soul of the dish, sharp and nasal and slightly bitter; without it you have a salad, not jhal muri. The vegetables stay raw and crunchy, onion, green chilli, cucumber, tomato, chopped into tiny dice so each spoonful gets one of each. Peanuts and chana chur (or sev) add fat and crunch; black salt and chaat masala add the funky-tangy depth that makes Indian street snacks addictive. The lime goes in last so the puffs don't soften. This is a dish where technique matters less than ingredient quality: muri must be crisp (refresh in a dry pan if it's gone soft), mustard oil must be the proper pungent kind, and the lime must be fresh. It is everywhere in Bengal, tea-time at home, train platforms, the Maidan on a winter afternoon, and there is no recipe in any cookbook that quite captures the feel of it being mixed in front of you in a paper cone.