19 recipes that use lemon wedges, with photos, step-by-step instructions and cook times. The quickest, Barramundi with lemon myrtle butter, takes 20 minutes. It is most often cooked with garlic, onion and coriander.
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Little cocktail samosas filled with chopped cashews, sautéed onion, coriander, chilli and a touch of lemon. The filling is rich and nutty with a gentle heat. Fry them slowly so the pastry turns golden and crisp all the way through, and serve hot with lemon wedges.
Gujarati-style samosas: thin, crisp pastry pockets folded into triangles and filled with peas, potato and carrot, sweet, sour and spicy with lemon, sugar, chilli and cinnamon-clove powder. Make the samosa chapaties (pastry) from the recipe in the Basics section. Serve with lemon wedges and green, red and tamarind chutneys.
Baby onions, carrots, potatoes and corn par-boiled, coated in a creamy, fiery marinade of red chilli, garlic, ginger, coriander-cumin and dried fenugreek, then grilled on skewers over charcoal until golden. They're small, colourful and bursting with flavour. Serve hot with lemon wedges.
Thukpa is the warming noodle soup of the Himalayas, eaten in Sikkim, Ladakh and the Tibetan settlements of the hills on cold evenings. A gingery, garlicky broth is cooked with carrot, cabbage and tomato, then wheat noodles and spinach go straight into the pot. It's light yet filling, savoury with soy and pepper and as spicy as you like with chilli on the side. Serve in deep bowls with a squeeze of lemon. Chef's tip: cook the noodles in the soup only just before serving; left standing, they keep drinking up the broth and turn soft.
When the call to prayer ends the fast during Ramadan, tables from Tangier to Ouarzazate are set with a bowl of harira, dates and chebakia. This tomato soup is thick with lentils, chickpeas and a great deal of coriander, parsley and celery, and gets its silky body from a flour-and-water slurry stirred in at the end. Many families cook it with a little lamb; this meat-free version uses a well-browned onion and tomato base and olive oil instead of smen, so it is fully vegan and still deeply savoury. Chef's tip: the soup should coat a spoon like thin custard; add the flour slurry slowly while stirring and stop when it reaches that point. Variation: for the meat version, brown 250 g diced lamb with the onion at the start.
Sambusa are the crunchy triangles sold on the streets of Harar and Dire Dawa, and made at home across Ethiopia for Ramadan, Meskel and Timkat celebrations. The Ethiopian version is usually filled with brown lentils (misir), cooked dry with onion, green chilli and spices, then wrapped in thin pastry and fried until blistered and golden. Eat them hot, with a squeeze of lemon or a spicy dip. Chef's tip: cook the lentil filling until it is quite dry; a wet filling makes the pastry soggy and causes bursting in the hot oil.
Along the Aegean coast, from İzmir down to Bodrum, summer lunch often begins with a plate of flat green beans that have been stewed in olive oil and tomato until they are silky, then left to cool to room temperature. It belongs to the zeytinyağlı family: vegetables cooked in olive oil, with no meat, and eaten cold or barely warm with bread to mop up the orange-red juices. Home cooks make a big pan in the morning and serve it over two or three days, because it tastes better after a night in the fridge. The most common mistake is rushing it on a high flame: the beans stay squeaky and the oil never turns glossy. Chef's tip: lay the beans on top of the onions and tomatoes without stirring, cover tightly and let the steam do the work; stirring breaks the beans and turns the sauce muddy.
Biber dolması turns up in every corner of Turkey, from Istanbul meyhanes to village kitchens in central Anatolia, and the olive-oil version without meat is the one eaten cold at summer lunches or packed for picnics. Thin-walled green dolma peppers are filled with rice cooked with onion, tomato, pine nuts, currants and warm spices, capped with a slice of tomato and simmered until the peppers slump and wrinkle. A frequent mistake is packing the filling to the top: leave a finger of space so the rice can swell. Chef's tip: let the peppers cool completely in their pot; the filling firms up and the flavours of mint and allspice come through much more clearly than when hot.
Warak enab bi zeit, vine leaves cooked in oil, is what Lebanese aunts make in big batches in early summer when the young grape leaves are tender, and it fills the cold mezze table at every wedding and family lunch. The meatless version, eaten on Lenten fast days, is packed with short-grain rice, tomato, parsley, mint and spring onion, seasoned with dried mint and seven spices, and simmered slowly in lemon juice until the leaves are silky and the filling sharp and fresh. It is served cold with a wedge of lemon and a spoonful of yogurt for those who are not keeping it vegan. Rolling too tightly is the mistake most people make: the rice swells and splits the leaves, so roll them snug but not stretched. Chef's tip: line the pan with sliced potato and tomato; they stop the rolls catching and are a cook's treat to eat straight from the pot.
Molokhia is one of the oldest dishes on the Egyptian table, eaten across the country from Alexandria to Upper Egypt, usually at a family lunch with white rice and torn baladi bread. The finely minced leaves of the jute plant cook in stock in minutes into a bright green, gently slippery soup; at the end a ta'leya of garlic and ground coriander fried in oil is poured in with a loud hiss. Most families cook it with chicken or rabbit broth, but a well-flavoured vegetable stock makes a lovely, light vegan version. Frozen minced molokhia from Middle Eastern grocers is what most Cairo cooks use too. Chef's tip: some cooks take a sharp breath (the shahqa) as the ta'leya goes in; joke or not, the point is to pour it in while the garlic is still sizzling hot.
Sapporo's soup curry was born in the city's cafés in the 1970s and became a craze in the 2000s, when hundreds of small shops opened across Hokkaido's capital, each letting you pick a heat level from 1 to 30. It is nothing like the thick roux curry most of Japan knows: the broth is as thin as soup, aromatic with cumin, cardamom and garlic, and the vegetables arrive large and separately roasted, so each keeps its own colour and bite. Locals eat it in the long Hokkaido winter with a plate of rice on the side, taking a spoonful of rice and dunking it into the broth. Chef's tip: roast or fry the vegetables apart from the broth and only meet them in the bowl. The contrast of crisp-edged vegetables and hot, loose broth is the whole point.
Brik is Tunisia's crackling street and Ramadan snack: a sheet of paper-thin malsouka pastry folded around a raw egg, mashed potato, parsley and capers, and fried for a minute until the shell shatters and the yolk is still runny. In Tunis and La Goulette it is eaten by hand, held by the corners and bitten carefully to avoid egg on the chin. The classic filling adds tuna; this version keeps it vegetarian with a little cheese. It is different from Moroccan briouats, which are small rolled parcels baked or fried with a cooked filling. Chef's tip: have the oil hot and ready before cracking the egg onto the pastry; once the egg sits, it soaks through the sheet.
Chorba frik is the soup that breaks the fast in Algerian homes every evening of Ramadan, from Algiers to Constantine, and it is just as common in Libya as shorba. Frik is young green wheat, roasted and cracked, which gives the tomato broth a smoky, nutty depth. It usually cooks with lamb; here chickpeas, celery and courgette carry it. Serve with lemon wedges and bread. Chef's tip: add the frik only once the broth is boiling and stir for the first minute, or it sinks and sticks.
In the villages around Valencia, paella is a Sunday lunch dish, never a dinner one, cooked in the open air by whoever in the family has the steadiest hand and eaten straight from the pan with spoons. The Valencian original has no seafood, no chorizo and no peas: just chicken, rabbit, wide flat green beans (ferraura), big white garrofó beans, tomato, sweet pimentón, saffron and short round rice. If you can't get rabbit, use all chicken; it is still very good. This version is sized for a 38–40 cm paella pan on a large hob ring or a barbecue. Chef's tip: once the rice goes in, smooth it flat and then leave it alone; stirring releases starch and turns paella into risotto.
On winter evenings in Amritsar, roadside stalls near the old city fry river fish in huge karahis and sell it by weight, hot and crisp, sprinkled with chaat masala and lemon. The batter is made from gram flour rather than wheat and is fragrant with ajwain (carom seeds), which Punjabis say makes fried food easier to digest. It is a snack or starter, eaten with mint chutney and sliced onions; at home it is the treat that comes out when guests arrive. Use any firm white fish: singhara is traditional, but cod, haddock, basa or tilapia all work. Chef's tip: a little rice flour in the batter is what keeps it crisp for longer after frying.
Tandoori chicken comes from Punjab, where clay tandoor ovens fired with wood or charcoal reach well over 400 °C and roast marinated chicken in minutes. In Punjabi dhabas and wedding buffets it arrives on a sizzling plate with raw onion rings, lemon and mint chutney, and it's the starting point for butter chicken. A home oven can't match a tandoor, but a very hot oven plus a final blast under the grill gets you charred edges and juicy meat. The two-step marinade (lemon and salt first, then spiced yogurt) is the key. Chef's tip: cut deep slashes right down to the bone; the marinade gets inside and the thick legs cook through at the same time as the thinner parts.
Lucknow's galouti kebab is said to have been created in the kitchens of the Nawabs of Awadh for a ruler who had lost his teeth, and 'galouti' means something that melts. The minced lamb is ground again until it's almost a paste, tenderised with raw papaya, scented with a dozen spices plus rose water and saffron, and fried gently on a flat griddle. In the old city around Aminabad they are sold all day on small, flaky ulte tawe ka paratha with sliced onion and mint chutney, and they are a must at Ramadan iftars. Chef's tip: chill the mixture well before shaping; the patties are meant to be fragile, and a cold mixture is the only way to get them into the pan in one piece.
This is a pork recipe. Walk through any Greek town after dark, from Athens to Thessaloniki, and the smell of souvlaki stands drifts down the street; cubes of pork shoulder grilled on thin skewers are the country's favourite cheap supper, eaten standing up or at a plastic-table taverna. At home you marinate the meat in lemon, olive oil, garlic and dried oregano, grill it hard and fast, and pile it on warm pitta with tzatziki, tomato and red onion. Chef's tip: cut the pork into even 2.5 cm cubes and leave a little fat on; lean loin dries out, shoulder stays juicy over high heat.
Barramundi is the prize fish of Australia's tropical north, caught in the rivers and estuaries of the Northern Territory and Far North Queensland and served everywhere from Darwin's waterfront to Brisbane pubs. Its firm, sweet white flesh is best cooked simply, skin side down until crisp, then topped with a butter flavoured with lemon myrtle, a native rainforest leaf that tastes like lemon and lemongrass together. Eat it with a green salad, new potatoes or chips on a warm evening. The mistake to avoid is moving the fillets too soon: the skin tears and sticks; leave them until they release by themselves. Chef's tip: dry the skin very well with kitchen paper and salt it just before cooking, never earlier, or it draws out moisture and won't crisp.
