19 recipes that use dried thyme, with photos, step-by-step instructions and cook times. The quickest, Fonio with vegetables, takes 30 minutes. It is most often cooked with onion, garlic and carrot.
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A colourful one-pot rice from Cameroon: long-grain rice simmered in thin coconut milk with tomato paste, chilli, cinnamon-clove powder and thyme, studded with carrot and yellow pepper. It's lightly spiced, creamy and fragrant. Serve it with beans, a vegetable stew or a simple salad.
Tinga comes from Puebla, where shredded meat is simmered in a sauce of sweet sliced onion, tomato and smoky chipotle chillies and piled onto tostadas or tacos. Here roasted cauliflower takes the place of the chicken: browned in a hot oven so it turns nutty and holds its shape, then folded through the brick-red sauce so every floret is glossy and smoky. The result, tinga de coliflor, is sweet, tangy and properly spicy; serve it in warm corn tortillas or on crisp tostadas with avocado, shredded lettuce and lime. Chef's tip: cook the onions slowly until soft and sweet before the tomatoes go in; the sweetness is what balances the heat of the chipotle.
Ask anyone in Accra and Ghana jollof is the only jollof worth arguing about, a friendly rivalry with Nigeria that plays out at every West African party and all over social media. The difference is real: Ghanaians favour long, fragrant basmati or jasmine rice rather than parboiled rice, a base heavier on ginger and garlic, and a softer, more aromatic finish without the smoky 'bottom pot'. It is served with fried plantain, a fresh salad and shito, Ghana's dark pepper sauce, on the side. Chef's tip: wash the basmati until the water runs clear and keep the liquid tight; fragrant rice turns sticky very quickly if it swims in sauce.
Every Nigerian wedding, naming ceremony and Saturday owambe in Lagos has a giant pot of jollof, and the guests judge it before they judge the bride's dress. The rice is long-grain parboiled rice, cooked in a thick base of fried red peppers, tomatoes and scotch bonnet until every grain is orange, separate and lightly smoky. The prized bit is the slightly scorched layer at the bottom of the pot, which party cooks call the 'bottom pot' flavour. Serve it with fried ripe plantain, moi moi and a crunchy coleslaw. Chef's tip: fry the tomato paste and the blended pepper base hard, until the oil floats on top and the raw, sour smell is gone, before a single grain of rice goes in.
Nigerian fried rice sits next to jollof at nearly every party buffet from Abuja to Port Harcourt, its pale yellow colour and confetti of vegetables making the two a classic pair on one plate. It owes nothing to Chinese fried rice: the grains are first boiled in stock with curry powder and thyme, then tossed in a hot pan with small diced vegetables. Party versions often hide liver or prawns; this one stays fully vegetable and serves well with fried plantain, moi moi or a spicy pepper sauce. Chef's tip: cut every vegetable to the size of a pea so they cook in the same couple of minutes and each spoonful gets a bit of everything.
Red lentil soup with dried apricots is a Lenten favourite of Armenian kitchens, from Yerevan flats to diaspora homes in Beirut and Los Angeles, made in the weeks before Easter when meat and dairy are set aside. The apricots, Armenia's national fruit, melt into the lentils and give a soft sweet-sour note that sits behind cumin, thyme and a squeeze of lemon. It is thick but not stodgy, a bright orange bowl that is filling enough for supper with lavash and a plate of fresh herbs. Chef's tip: chop half the apricots fine and let them dissolve, and add the rest in strips near the end, so you get both background sweetness and juicy bites.
For centuries Swedes have eaten ärtsoppa on Thursday: school canteens, army messes and home kitchens all serve thick yellow pea soup, followed by thin pancakes with jam (ärtsoppa och pannkakor). The tradition is said to date from Catholic times, a filling meal before Friday's fast. The soup is usually cooked with salt pork, but the soul of it is the dried yellow peas, onion and a generous hand of thyme and marjoram, so this version is fully plant-based and seasons the broth with a little smoked paprika instead. Each bowl gets a spoonful of sharp Swedish mustard stirred in at the table. Chef's tip: soak whole yellow peas overnight and skim the foam as they come to the boil; the skins that float up can then be lifted off, giving a smoother soup.
Erwtensoep, or snert, is the soup that Dutch skaters drink from paper cups at the koek-en-zopie stalls on frozen lakes, and that families leave to simmer on a Saturday in January. A proper snert is so thick that a spoon should stand upright in the pan, and it tastes better on the second day. The traditional pot is full of pork and smoked sausage; this version gets its depth from celeriac, leek, a little smoked paprika and a long, slow simmer. Serve it with dark rye bread (roggebrood), butter and mustard. Chef's tip: stir the bottom of the pan every 10 minutes in the last half hour; split peas settle as they thicken and catch easily, and a scorched taste spreads through the whole pot.
Tocăniță is the everyday stew of Romanian home cooking, and the mushroom version is a fixture of the Orthodox fasting days, when Transylvanian cooks use forest mushrooms gathered in the Apuseni hills and city cooks use button mushrooms from the market. Onions, garlic, tomato, white wine and thyme cook down into a thick, glossy sauce, without the sour cream and paprika of a Hungarian paprikás. It is always eaten with hot mămăligă and a spoon of the sauce over the top. Chef's tip: brown the mushrooms in batches in a hot pan; crowding them is the usual mistake, and they then stew grey in their own water instead of turning golden.
Sausage rolls are the snack of Australian bakeries, school canteens and footy grounds, eaten from a paper bag with a squeeze of tomato sauce, and they're on the table at every kids' party from Perth to Hobart, and across the Tasman too. This vegetarian version wraps crisp, buttery puff pastry around a savoury filling of browned mushrooms, lentils, carrot, cheddar and sage, firm enough to slice and with the peppery, herby taste of a good bakery roll. The meat original uses raw seasoned pork or beef mince in place of the filling, as noted in the steps. Chef's tip: cook the mushrooms until they are dry and browned; any leftover liquid will turn the pastry soggy from the inside.
Fonio is a tiny ancient grain grown in the Sahel and in southern Senegal's Casamance and Fouta regions, where it is steamed like couscous and eaten with a vegetable or peanut sauce. It cooks in minutes and has a light, nutty taste, which has made it popular again in Dakar restaurants. Here it is fluffed with a little oil and topped with a quick stew of courgette, carrot, aubergine and tomato. Chef's tip: wash fonio in several changes of water and drain it in a fine sieve; it often carries fine sand, and gritty fonio is the most common complaint.
Poutine was born in rural Québec in the 1950s, at snack bars (casse-croûtes) in towns like Warwick and Drummondville, and is now eaten across Canada at 2 a.m. after a night out and at hockey arenas. The rules are simple: crisp fries, fresh cheese curds that squeak against your teeth, and a hot, savoury gravy poured over so the curds soften but don't fully melt. This gravy is made with browned mushrooms and vegetable stock instead of the usual chicken-beef stock. Chef's tip: keep the curds at room temperature and the gravy very hot; cold curds stay rubbery and lukewarm gravy makes the fries soggy without softening the cheese.
Hünkar beğendi is a dish from the Ottoman palace kitchens of Istanbul; its name means 'the sultan was pleased', and a well-known story links it to a royal banquet of the 1860s. Today it is a special Sunday or guest dish in Istanbul homes and old-style lokanta restaurants. Tender chunks of lamb are braised slowly with tomato and peppers, then spooned over beğendi, a silky purée of fire-charred aubergine whisked into a light cheese sauce. The smoky, creamy base against the rich stew is the whole point. Chef's tip: char the aubergines directly over a gas flame until the skins are black and collapsing; the oven alone won't give that smoky flavour.
Almost every Nigerian kitchen has a pot of this red stew in the fridge. Lagos households cook a big batch on Saturday and eat it all week over white rice, boiled yam, plantain or beans. Red bell peppers, tomatoes, scotch bonnet and onion are blended and fried in oil for a long time until the raw taste is gone and the oil rises to the top, then browned chicken goes in. The classic mistake is not frying the pepper base long enough; the stew tastes sour and raw if you rush it. Chef's tip: boil the chicken first with seasoning, then fry it before it goes into the stew, and use that seasoned stock in the sauce.
No Nigerian party, from a Lagos wedding to a child's birthday in Abuja, is complete without a tray of meat pies. Rich, crumbly short pastry is folded around a filling of minced beef, diced potato and carrot cooked with thyme and curry powder, crimped with a fork and baked golden. They are just as popular as a bakery snack with a cold drink. A common mistake is filling the pastry with hot or runny filling, which melts the butter and makes soggy pies; cool it and thicken it first. Chef's tip: keep the dough cold, and rest it in the fridge for 30 minutes before rolling so the pies stay short and flaky.
In New Orleans, red beans and rice is what Monday tastes like: the pot used to go on the back of the stove on washday with the ham bone left from Sunday, and plenty of Creole kitchens still cook it on Mondays. This version contains pork: a smoked ham hock and sliced andouille sausage simmer with kidney beans and the 'holy trinity' of onion, celery and green pepper until some beans collapse into a creamy gravy. Serve over white rice with hot sauce and a piece of cornbread. Chef's tip: when the beans are tender, mash a ladleful against the side of the pot; that is what makes them creamy.
Jambalaya feeds crowds at church fairs and Mardi Gras parties all over south Louisiana, from Baton Rouge to New Orleans. This is the Creole or 'red' style from the city, with tomato in the pot; the Cajun country version leaves it out. Chicken thighs and smoked andouille (a pork sausage) are browned first, then rice cooks in the spiced tomato stock with the holy trinity, and prawns go in at the end. Chef's tip: once the rice is in, resist stirring; just turn it once halfway so the bottom does not catch.
Every Romanian park, beer garden and May Day picnic smells of mici, the little skinless rolls of minced beef and lamb that sizzle on charcoal grills from Bucharest's Obor market to the Black Sea coast. The mince is beaten with garlic, thyme, a strong beef stock and a little bicarbonate of soda, which makes them springy and juicy inside with a crusty outside. They come in tens, with plenty of mustard, fresh bread and sometimes chips. The usual error is cooking them straight after mixing: the mince needs a night in the fridge for the bicarbonate and garlic to work. Chef's tip: shape them with oiled hands on an oiled tray, and grill them no thicker than your thumb so the middle cooks before the outside burns.
Svíčková is the dish Czech families make for weddings, name days and big Sunday lunches, and in Prague pubs it appears on the menu as the proud centre of the week. Beef is marinated for a day or two with root vegetables and spices, slow-roasted, and the vegetables are then blended into a smooth, sweet-sour cream sauce. It is always served the same way: sliced beef, a pool of sauce, bread dumplings, a spoonful of cranberry sauce, a twist of whipped cream and a slice of lemon. Many cooks under-season the sauce; it should taste clearly of vinegar, sugar and allspice, not just cream. The optional smoked bacon that flavours the vegetables is pork; leave it out and the sauce is still rich. Chef's tip: blend the sauce until completely velvety, then push it through a sieve; that silky finish is what makes svíčková special.
