3468 vegetarian recipes cooked without onion or garlic, as in Swaminarayan and sattvic kitchens, with no meat, fish, eggs or alcohol. Each has photos, step-by-step instructions and cook times. The quickest, Apfelschorle, takes 2 minutes. Most take around 45 minutes.
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The basic method for any dried pasta, from penne to spaghetti. A large pan of salted boiling water keeps the pasta from sticking, and you cook it only until just done, with a little bite left. Use it in salads, bakes or with any sauce.
Soviet cafés and school canteens sold these knobbly brown 'potatoes' for a few kopecks, and they began as a thrifty way to use up sponge and biscuit trimmings at the bakery. Crumbs are bound with butter and sweetened condensed milk, flavoured with cocoa and vanilla, shaped into little potatoes, rolled in cocoa and finished with two dabs of pale butter cream for the sprouts. They are fudgy and dense like a brownie truffle, need no oven, and children love making them. Traditional bakers added a spoonful of rum, an optional extra for adult batches only; this version is alcohol-free with vanilla. The usual slip is coarse crumbs, which make the potatoes crack, so blitz them as fine as sand. Chef's tip: chill the shaped potatoes for at least 20 minutes so they hold their shape and slice cleanly.
A crunchy salad of red, yellow and green peppers with roasted peanuts, cucumber, carrots and celery, dressed with lemon, dill, mint and celery leaves. Just before serving, olive oil mixed with sesame seeds is poured over the top. It's colourful, filling and full of protein.
Walalu means bangles, and these dark, sticky rings of fried urad dal soaked in kithul treacle are a sweet that Sinhala families bring out for Avurudu and for special almsgivings, often made in large batches by an aunt known for her steady hand. A thick, fluffy paste of ground black gram is piped into loops and fried until crisp, then plunged straight into warm treacle, so the rings stay crunchy on the outside while drinking up the syrup. They taste a little like a darker, smokier jalebi, with a toffee finish from the palm treacle. Watery batter is what ruins them; it spreads into flat blobs, so grind the soaked dal with as little water as possible and beat it until light. This recipe uses no asafoetida, so it is naturally gluten free. Chef's tip: pipe the rings onto small squares of baking paper and lower them into the oil paper and all; the paper peels away in seconds.
Nothing is cooked for doi chira, which is why it has been the breakfast of farmers and fishermen in Barisal for generations: flattened rice is rinsed, softened in thick, slightly sour curd and sweetened with jaggery or sugar, then mashed together with a ripe banana. The texture is soft and creamy with a little chew from the rice flakes, and the taste is cool, sweet and tangy. It is eaten on hot summer mornings, at village fairs and as part of the Pohela Boishakh spread, and it is a favourite of children and of anyone fasting who wants something gentle. The usual misstep is soaking the chira for too long, which turns it to paste; a quick rinse is all it needs before the curd does the rest. Chef's tip: use thick-cut chira, not the thin kind for frying, so the flakes hold their shape.
A tin of bsissa sits in many Tunisian kitchen cupboards, from Tunis flats to farmhouses in the south: a finely ground flour of roasted barley, roasted chickpeas and spices such as coriander, fennel and aniseed. In the morning a few spoonfuls are worked with olive oil and something sweet into a nutty, crumbly paste, or stirred with water into a thick drink, and it keeps you going until lunch. Travellers and pilgrims once carried it for the road. Roasting your own flour takes 15 minutes and makes a jar that lasts weeks. Sugar and dates keep it vegan; some families use honey. Chef's tip: roast the flours separately over a low heat and stir constantly; the moment they smell like toasted biscuits and turn light tan, tip them out of the pan.
After dark in Marrakech's great square, the babbouche stalls are recognisable by their steaming cauldrons and the toothpicks laid out by every bowl. Small land snails simmer in a dark broth of liquorice root, aniseed, thyme, caraway, bitter orange peel, chilli and a bundle of herbs that sellers say has fifteen ingredients, believed to soothe the stomach and warm you on a cold night. You pick the snails out with a toothpick, then drink the peppery, herbal, faintly sweet broth. At home, buy live snails sold for cooking, already purged by a reputable seller, discard any with broken shells or that do not move or retract when touched, and cook them through for at least 45 minutes. Chef's tip: keep the spices in a muslin bag; the broth stays clear and you avoid crunching on seeds.
Sabudana khichdi is the dish that sees Maharashtra through every vrat (fast), from Navratri to Ekadashi, but it's so good that people eat it any day of the week. Soaked sago pearls are tossed in a pan with crushed roasted peanuts, cubes of potato, cumin and green chilli until each pearl turns glassy and separate, then finished with lemon and coriander. It's soft, chewy, nutty and gently hot. Fasting rules vary from family to family, so check yours; this version uses rock salt and no asafoetida, onion or garlic. Traditionally it's cooked in ghee; use ghee instead of oil if you aren't keeping it vegan. Chef's tip: soak the sago in just enough water to cover by the height of the pearls themselves, no more; too much water is the reason khichdi turns into one sticky lump.
A soft, spongy, low-calorie dhokra made from soaked black-eyed beans blended to a batter with fresh fenugreek, spinach and green chilli-ginger paste, lifted with fruit salt and steamed. Cut into squares and serve with green chutney as a snack or light meal.
Thin potato crisps blanched in salted water with citric acid and dried in the sun, a traditional store-cupboard standby for fasting days. Fried in seconds when needed, they puff up light, crisp and white. Sprinkle with black pepper or chilli powder. Drying takes 1–2 days of strong sun.
Khakhra are thin chapaties roasted slowly on a griddle until they turn crisp, like a cracker. This masala version adds gram flour, fresh fenugreek, turmeric and chilli to the wheat dough. They are a light Gujarati breakfast or tea-time snack, and lovely with pickle, chutney or a smear of butter. You can also make them in a roti maker.
Sakarpada (shakarpara) are little sweet diamonds of a rich dough made with ghee, milk and sugar, fried until golden and crunchy. They are a Diwali favourite with tea, and the cubes go into bhusu too. They keep for weeks in an air-tight tin.
A big, bright salad of red, green and yellow peppers, boiled peanuts, sweet corn, grapes, apple and coconut, tossed in a sweet-sour passion fruit and mint dressing. It is very popular at big parties: it looks festive, keeps its crunch and is easy to double. Serve it on a bed of crisp lettuce.
The everyday Gujarati green chutney: fresh coriander, hot green chillies, raw mango and green pepper blended coarsely with fafadia gathia, which thickens it and stops it going watery. It's hot, tangy and a little sweet. Serve it with dhokla, khandvi, sandwiches and all kinds of farsan.
Sprouting whole green grams makes them crunchier, quicker to cook and more nutritious. All you need is muslin, water and a warm spot, and they're ready in 3–4 days. Use them in salads, bhel, usal and stir-fries. Any other whole pulse sprouts the same way.
When the first hard green mangoes arrive in April, kitchens from Lucknow to Pune start boiling them for panna. The cooked pulp is blended with roasted cumin, black salt, mint and sugar or jaggery into a thick concentrate that keeps in the fridge for a week, then diluted glass by glass with cold water. Grandmothers swear by it against loo, the hot dry wind of a North Indian summer, and in Maharashtra the same drink, called kairi panha, is served to guests at Gudi Padwa and haldi-kumkum gatherings. It tastes sour first, then sweet, then smoky from the cumin. A common mistake is using mangoes that have begun to ripen and turn yellow: the panna tastes flat and fruity rather than bracing, so pick firm, green, sour ones. Chef's tip: pressure cooking the mangoes whole in their skins keeps the pulp pale and fragrant; scraping too close to the skin and stone adds bitterness.
Sadya etiquette puts pachadi next to the kichadi, and pineapple is the festive favourite, especially in central Kerala around Kottayam and Thrissur, where it appears at Onam, weddings and Vishu. Ripe pineapple is simmered briefly with turmeric, chilli and a little sugar, then folded into a paste of coconut, green chilli and raw mustard seed and loosened with whisked curd. The result is sweet, tangy and gently pungent from the ground mustard, with a crackling coconut-oil tadka on top. Serve it cool alongside rice, sambar and thoran, or as a side with appam. The mistake to avoid is adding the yogurt to a hot pan: it splits into grainy curds, so take the pineapple off the heat and let it cool first. Chef's tip: grind the mustard seeds raw with the coconut, but only briefly; over-ground mustard turns bitter.
Catalinas are the big dark cookies stacked in clear bags by the till of every Venezuelan bodega and panadería, eaten as a mid-afternoon snack with a glass of cold milk or a small black coffee. The dough is sweetened with melted panela and perfumed with anise, cinnamon and clove, and they stay soft and chewy for days. The mistake people make is baking until hard; they firm up as they cool. Chef's tip: take them out when they have puffed and the edges just feel set.
No Maharashtrian festive thali, at Ganesh Chaturthi, a wedding or a naming ceremony, feels complete without a bowl of aluchi patal bhaji: chopped colocasia leaves stewed soft with chana dal and peanuts in a thin curry that is sour with tamarind, sweet with jaggery and thickened with a spoon of gram flour. It is eaten mixed into rice or sipped from the thali. Colocasia leaves must be cooked thoroughly with an acid like tamarind; undercooked leaves make the throat itch. The usual mistake is skimping on the cooking time to save the bright green colour; the leaves should be fully soft and olive-green. Chef's tip: soak the peanuts and chana dal for at least 2 hours, so they cook in the same time as the leaves.
Tom Brown is the porridge Ghanaian babies grow up on: a blend of roasted maize, groundnuts (peanuts) and soya beans, ground fine and sold in bags at Makola Market in Accra and in clinics' nutrition corners, or roasted and milled at home. Cooked with water it becomes a smooth, beige porridge that smells of toasted corn and peanuts, and it is rich in protein and energy. It is loved in Nigeria too. For babies there is no salt, sugar, evaporated milk or honey. It contains peanuts and soya. Chef's tip: early, regular peanut is recommended for most babies, but if your baby has severe eczema or a known egg allergy, talk to your health visitor or doctor before the first spoonful.
Fororo is the name for finely ground toasted corn, and for the smooth porridge made from it that grandmothers in Lara, Barinas and the rest of the Llanos give to children before school or to anyone feeling under the weather. It tastes gently nutty, like warm popcorn in a cup, sweetened with panela and scented with cinnamon. If you can't find fororo flour, toasting fine cornmeal in a dry pan gives the same result. The common mistake is tipping the flour straight into hot milk, which makes lumps. Chef's tip: whisk the flour into a little cold milk first, then pour it into the pot.
At morning markets across Central and East Java, vendors unwrap banana-leaf triangles of chewy sticky rice, roll them in fresh grated coconut and drench them in dark palm sugar syrup, all served on a square of leaf. Lupis is breakfast and snack at once, eaten with sweet tea. The common mistake is packing the leaves too full: the rice swells as it cooks, so fill each cone only two-thirds, or the parcels split and turn watery. Chef's tip: steam the grated coconut with a pinch of salt for 5 minutes before using it; it keeps longer and the salt sharpens the caramel taste of the syrup.
Across Kano, Zaria and Niger, sinasir is a breakfast and snack food: a fermented rice batter poured into a small pan, covered and cooked on one side only, so the top stays soft and covered in holes like a crumpet while the base turns lightly golden. They are eaten warm with sugar, with groundnut oil and yaji, or alongside miyan taushe (pumpkin soup). Traditionally the rice is soaked and ground; this home version uses rice flour plus a little cooked rice for the same soft chew. The common mistake is flipping them: sinasir is meant to have a pale, holey top, so cover the pan and let steam cook it instead. Chef's tip: the batter is ready when it has doubled and looks bubbly; if it hasn't, give it longer rather than adding more yeast.
Thick, tangy amasi was once soured in calabashes in Zulu and Xhosa homesteads, and it is still the drink-cum-meal that many South Africans crave on a hot afternoon, poured over crumbly pap as umvubo. At home it is easy and safe with pasteurised full-fat milk and a spoon of live cultured buttermilk as the starter; never use raw milk. Expect something like a pourable, sharper yoghurt with soft curds, cooling against the dry, crumbly maize. The common mistake is fermenting somewhere too warm, which makes the milk separate into watery whey and rubbery lumps. Chef's tip: once it has set, chill it for a few hours before eating; the cold firms the curd and rounds out the sourness.
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