29 recipes that use smoked paprika, with photos, step-by-step instructions and cook times. The quickest, Mozambique peri-peri prawns, takes 25 minutes. It is most often cooked with onion, garlic and butter.
Run out of smoked paprika? Sweet paprika + a pinch of chipotle or a drop of liquid smoke.
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A one-pan breakfast that works just as well for dinner. Peppers and onions are cooked down with cumin and smoked paprika, then eggs are nestled in and poached until the whites set and the yolks stay runny. Bring the pan to the table with plenty of bread for dipping.
Feijoada is Brazil's national dish, the slow black bean stew that Rio de Janeiro and the rest of the country eat for long Saturday lunches. The classic version is loaded with smoked pork; this feijoada vegetariana gets its depth from well-browned mushrooms, smoked paprika and bay instead, with sweet potato melting into the dark, glossy broth. Serve it the proper way: white rice, couve à mineira, farofa and slices of orange to cut the richness. Chef's tip: once the beans are tender, mash a ladleful against the side of the pot and stir it back in. That's how Brazilian cooks get the thick, velvety caldo that coats the rice, rather than a thin soup.
Tutu de feijão is everyday comfort food from Minas Gerais, made from yesterday's beans: they're blended smooth, fried with onion and garlic, then thickened with manioc meal into a soft, spoonable mash. In Minas it comes with pork crackling and sausage; here smoked paprika and a crisp onion topping bring the savoury, smoky edge. Serve with rice, couve à mineira and a fried egg if you eat them. Chef's tip: rain in the manioc meal slowly while stirring, as you would polenta, and stop while it's still a little looser than you want. Tutu firms up as it stands, and too much farinha makes it stodgy.
Baião de dois ('a dance for two') is the pride of Ceará and the Northeast sertão: rice cooked in the broth of feijão-de-corda (a small cowpea; black-eyed peas are the closest match), then folded with cubes of squeaky queijo coalho until they just start to melt. It's usually made with dried beef and bacon; this version keeps the smoky note with paprika and finishes with nutty clarified butter (manteiga de garrafa). It's a one-pot meal on its own, or great with vinagrete. Chef's tip: cook the rice in the bean cooking water, not fresh water. That's what gives baião its brownish colour and deep bean flavour.
Escondidinho ('little hidden one') is a homely baked dish from the Northeast: a savoury filling hidden under a layer of creamy mashed cassava (mandioca or aipim), topped with cheese and baked until golden. The classic is made with carne de sol, the Northeast's sun-dried beef; this vegetarian escondidinho uses mushrooms browned hard with onion, tomato and smoked paprika for the same savoury depth. Serve it with a green salad or couve à mineira. Chef's tip: mash the cassava while it's piping hot and remove the woody core first. Cold cassava turns gluey, and the stringy core spoils the silky texture.
Stew peas is a thick, comforting Jamaican one-pot of red kidney beans simmered in coconut milk until creamy, studded with 'spinners', small hand-rolled dumplings. It's a classic Wednesday or Saturday dinner across the island, usually cooked with pig's tail and salt beef. Here mushrooms browned hard and a little smoked paprika bring the savoury depth instead, so nothing is missing. Serve over plain white rice. Chef's tip: when the beans are soft, crush a ladleful against the side of the pot. Stew peas should be thick enough to coat the back of a spoon, and the crushed beans give that body without any flour.
Callaloo is Trinidad and Tobago's national dish and part of the classic Sunday lunch, served beside rice, macaroni pie and stewed peas. Dasheen bush (young taro leaves) is simmered with okra, pumpkin, coconut milk, onion, garlic, chives and thyme, then beaten smooth with a wooden swizzle stick into a thick, velvety green soup. It's usually cooked with crab or salt pork; this vegetarian version leaves them out and adds a pinch of smoked paprika for depth. Spinach and Swiss chard can replace dasheen. Chef's tip: cook the dasheen leaves for at least 25–30 minutes. They must be very soft, both to swizzle silky smooth and because undercooked dasheen leaves make your throat itch.
Tacacho is the breakfast of the Peruvian Amazon, from Tarapoto to Iquitos: green plantains roasted over coals, mashed with fat and salt and shaped into balls. There it comes with cecina (smoked pork) and is mashed with lard and crackling; this vegan tacacho uses good oil and a pinch of smoked paprika for the same savoury, smoky depth. The balls are dense, chewy and starchy, crisp at the edges where the plantain charred, and they are eaten hot with a fiery chilli sauce or alongside stews. Use plantains that are fully green and firm. Chef's tip: mash the plantains while they are still very hot; as green plantain cools its starch sets and it won't bind into a smooth ball.
Caldo verde comes from the Minho, the green, rainy corner of northern Portugal above Porto, where couve galega (a tall, flat-leaved cabbage) grows in every back garden. It is a plain purée of potato and onion with ribbons of dark green cabbage cut as fine as string, finished with a thread of raw olive oil, and it is drunk from earthenware bowls at the Santos Populares street festivals in June, at weddings at midnight and on any cold evening with a slice of broa (maize bread). In the north a coin of chouriço is usually floated on top; this version keeps the soup vegetarian and lets a little smoked paprika in the oil stand in for it. Chef's tip: shred the greens as thinly as you can, rolled up tight like a cigar, because they only cook for a few minutes and thick strips stay chewy.
In Medellín and across Antioquia, red cargamanto beans simmered for hours are the heart of the bandeja paisa and of everyday lunch. The beans cook with grated green plantain and carrot, which melt in and thicken the pot, and are finished with hogao, the tomato and spring onion sauce. This version leaves out the pork hock and gets its depth from a long simmer and a smoky pinch of paprika. Serve with white rice, avocado and an arepa. Chef's tip: grate the plantain on the fine side of the grater; it dissolves into the beans and makes them creamy.
Linseneintopf is the one-pot lentil stew that German families cook on cold weekdays, and in many school and works canteens it's still the Thursday or Saturday lunch. Brown lentils simmer with potatoes, carrots, celeriac and leek until thick and soft; the finishing touch, all over Germany, is a good splash of vinegar at the table, which wakes the whole bowl up. It's usually made with smoked sausage or bacon; here smoked paprika and vegetable stock give the smoky depth instead. Chef's tip: add the vinegar only at the end, because acid added early keeps the lentils hard.
Red red is Ghanaian chop-bar comfort food, eaten at lunchtime from Kumasi to Cape Coast, and it gets its name from its two reds: the bean stew glowing with palm oil and the fried ripe plantain served alongside. Black-eyed beans simmer in a tomato and onion sauce until creamy, then a sprinkle of gari on top adds crunch. It is often made with smoked fish or momoni; this meat-free version uses smoked paprika for the same savoury edge. Chef's tip: choose plantains with mostly black skins; they fry up sweet and caramelised, the perfect partner for the salty stew.
In Lagos, ewa agoyin is the breakfast you buy from a woman with a big cooler of soft, mashed beans and a second pot of almost-black pepper sauce glistening with palm oil. The name points to the Agoyin, people from neighbouring Togo and Benin who made the dish famous in Lagos markets, and it is eaten with soft, chewy agege bread or fried plantain. The beans are the small, naturally sweet brown 'honey beans' (ewa oloyin), cooked until they collapse. The sauce is the star: dried chillies and onions fried slowly in palm oil until deep brown, smoky and slightly bitter-sweet. Chef's tip: don't rush the sauce; the onions need to go from soft to very dark brown slowly over a medium-low heat, which is where the smoky depth comes from.
Moi moi (also written moin moin) is the soft, savoury bean pudding of Yorubaland that turns up at every Lagos party beside jollof, and in lunchboxes and on Sunday breakfast plates with ogi or custard. Peeled black-eyed beans are blended with red pepper, onion and oil, then steamed until set and sliceable, like a light, spicy terrine. Traditionally it is wrapped in broad uma (thaumatococcus) leaves; ramekins or foil cups work at home. Party versions often hide boiled egg or fish inside; this one is fully plant-based. Chef's tip: the batter should drop thickly from a spoon, like a cake batter; too runny and the moi moi never firms up.
Efo riro, literally 'stirred greens', is the Yoruba vegetable stew cooked in homes from Ibadan to Lagos on any ordinary weekday, and eaten with pounded yam, eba or plain rice. Leafy greens are wilted into a rich base of blended peppers fried in palm oil with iru, the pungent fermented locust beans that give the dish its savoury backbone. Most families add assorted meats, stockfish and crayfish; some keep a little smoked fish on the side for those who want it. This version leans on mushrooms, iru and a touch of smoked paprika instead. Chef's tip: squeeze the blanched greens really dry before they go into the sauce; wet spinach thins the stew and washes out the flavour.
Paprikás krumpli is a thrifty potato stew that every Hungarian student learns to cook, and it turns up at school dinners, on autumn weekdays and in cauldrons at village harvest festivals. Potatoes simmer in an onion and paprika base with pepper and tomato until they start to break and thicken their own sauce. Most versions add sliced smoked sausage; this vegan one swaps it for a pinch of smoked paprika and caraway, which give the same savoury depth. Serve in bowls with crusty bread and a pickled cucumber or a spoon of pickled peppers on the side. Chef's tip: cut the potatoes unevenly on purpose; the smaller pieces melt and thicken the sauce while the bigger ones stay whole.
Túrós csusza is a simple dish of wide pasta squares tossed with crumbly túró curd cheese and sour cream, loved across Hungary and especially in the Danube villages, where it is served as a filling main after a bowl of fish soup. At home it is a Friday or end-of-the-month supper made from what is in the fridge. Traditionally it is topped with crisp pork crackling; here, fried onions and a little smoked paprika give the same crunch and savouriness. The flavour is mild, tangy and comforting. Chef's tip: toss the cheese into the pasta while it is still steaming so the túró warms through, but serve the sour cream cold on top for contrast.
Rakott krumpli means 'layered potatoes', and it is a family supper baked all over Hungary, especially in winter in the north-east around Miskolc and Eger, where every household layers it slightly differently. Slices of boiled potato are stacked with hard-boiled eggs and plenty of sour cream, then baked until bubbling and golden. Many versions add smoked sausage; this vegetarian one uses sautéed mushrooms and a dusting of smoked paprika for depth. It is rich, creamy and needs only a sharp cucumber salad or pickles alongside. Chef's tip: boil the potatoes in their skins and peel them while warm; they slice cleanly and don't soak up water.
Kapusniak is the sour, warming sauerkraut soup of western Ukraine, cooked through the long winters in Lviv and the Galician villages, when barrels of home-fermented cabbage stand in every cellar. Potato and a handful of millet make it filling, and a spoon of tomato paste and smoked paprika round out the tang. It is famous as the soup for the morning after a wedding or New Year party, and is often cooked with smoked pork; this vegan version gets its depth from a well-browned zazharka instead. Chef's tip: taste your sauerkraut first and rinse it only if it is very salty or sharp, because the brine is where the flavour lives. Common mistake: adding the sauerkraut together with the potatoes; the acid stops them softening, so let the potatoes cook first.
Taco rice was invented in 1984 in the town of Kin, Okinawa, next to a large US Marine base, by a café owner who put taco fillings on rice to make a cheap, filling plate for young soldiers. It became one of Okinawa's best-loved comfort foods and now turns up in school lunches, convenience stores and beach cafés across the islands. The usual filling is spiced minced beef; Okinawan cafés also offer bean versions, and ours uses kidney beans and walnuts for the same crumbly bite. Serve it with hot sauce and eat it from one bowl, mixing as you go. Chef's tip: cook the filling until it's almost dry. A juicy filling soaks the rice and the cheese won't melt into it properly.
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.
When the first frost hits the Dutch polders, farmers say the kale (boerenkool) finally turns sweet, and that is the signal for boerenkoolstamppot: floury potatoes mashed with finely shredded raw kale until the green is just wilted by the heat of the mash. Across the Netherlands it is the dinner of dark December evenings and the meal people want after skating on a frozen canal. Every plate gets a kuiltje, a little well pressed into the mash and filled with gravy. The classic partner is a smoked rookworst sausage; this vegetarian version keeps the smoky note with pan-fried smoked tofu and a slow-cooked onion gravy, and a spoon of mustard on the side. Chef's tip: shred the kale as fine as you can and stir it in raw at the very end, so it stays bright green with a little bite instead of turning grey and soggy.
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.
Charquicán is old Chilean country food: a thick mash of pumpkin and potato with corn and peas, once made with charqui, the dried meat of the Andes. In the south and in Santiago homes it's a winter weeknight dinner, served in a deep plate with a fried egg on top and pickled onions or a simple salad. Without the meat it's still rich and smoky with merkén (smoked chilli) and paprika. Chef's tip: mash only roughly at the end; charquicán should have soft chunks, not be a smooth purée.
Guia, a small inland village in the Algarve, is famous across Portugal for its churrasqueiras, where flattened chickens are grilled over charcoal and painted with fiery piri-piri sauce; families drive out on summer evenings just to eat it. The bird marinates in a blend of small hot chillies, garlic, lemon, paprika and olive oil, then grills until the skin is blistered and the meat juicy. Serve with chips, rice or a tomato salad, and extra sauce for brave diners. Chef's tip: keep back some of the sauce before it touches the chicken; that fresh portion is for basting and the table.
Suya comes from the Hausa north, from Kano and Kaduna, but now every Nigerian city has a mai suya grilling beef over charcoal by the roadside once the sun goes down. Thin slices of beef are threaded onto skewers, rubbed with yaji, a fiery mix of roasted peanut powder, chilli, ginger and stock spices, and grilled until charred at the edges. It comes wrapped in newspaper with sliced raw onion, tomato and extra yaji for dipping. The common mistake is cutting the beef thick; it needs to be thin enough to see light through, so it cooks fast and stays tender. Chef's tip: put the beef in the freezer for 30 minutes first, and it will slice wafer thin with ease.
In the Lowcountry around Charleston, South Carolina, shrimp and grits started as a fisherman's breakfast and is now brunch on every restaurant menu in town. Stone-ground grits are simmered slowly until creamy and finished with sharp cheddar and butter, then crowned with prawns cooked fast in a smoky, lemony pan sauce with spring onions. Chef's tip: whisk the grits into the liquid a little at a time and keep stirring for the first five minutes; lumps form only at the start.
Maputo's waterfront restaurants and the beach shacks of Inhambane and Vilanculos are famous for their prawns: big shell-on prawns split down the back, painted with a sauce of piri-piri chilli, garlic, lime and butter and grilled over coals until the shells blister. You eat them with your fingers, sucking the sauce off the shells, with bread or chips. The mistake is overcooking, which turns them rubbery; they need only 2–3 minutes a side. Chef's tip: split the prawns through the shell and remove the dark vein, so the sauce gets right into the flesh.
A lovo is Fiji's earth oven, dug in the ground for weddings, church feasts and Christmas in villages on Viti Levu and Vanua Levu: hot stones are covered with parcels of meat, fish and root vegetables in banana leaves, then buried for hours. This home version wraps chicken marinated in coconut, garlic and ginger with taro, cassava and sweet potato in foil and banana leaves and roasts them slowly, giving the same steamed, smoky-sweet result. The mistake is wrapping loosely, so the steam escapes and everything dries; seal the parcels tightly. Chef's tip: a few drops of liquid smoke or a smoked paprika rub gives a hint of the earth oven.
