Browse recipes

Tamarind loosened in hot water and sweetened into a sour-brown cooler with a long, mouth-watering finish. Sharper and more savory than it looks.

Dried hibiscus steeped briefly, sweetened while hot and chilled hard: tart, cranberry-deep and an almost unreasonable red. The most common agua fresca in Mexico.

Soda chanh: lime juice and sugar syrup in a tall glass, topped with soda water and stirred at the table. Three ingredients, correctly assembled.

Elderflower cordial cut with lemon, cucumber and mint over a lot of ice. Barely a recipe, and the most refreshing thing in the book.

Five minutes, one blender, no cooking. Ripe avocado and cocoa whipped into a mousse so dark and silky nobody will guess the base. Chill it and it sets like the real thing.

Gunpowder green tea brewed strong over a fistful of spearmint, sweetened hot and poured over ice. Bracing, fragrant and very sweet, as it should be.

Ripe watermelon blended with water and lime into something lighter and more drinkable than juice. Five minutes of work and it tastes like the middle of summer.

Chia seeds left to swell in vanilla-sweetened plant milk until thick and spoonable, layered with crushed berries. Five minutes of work the night before.

Chickpeas, tahini, garlic and lemon blended smooth, loosened with aquafaba (the liquid from the chickpea can) so it stays creamy without extra fat. Served with carrot, cucumber and pepper sticks.

Frozen edamame pods boiled for five minutes and tossed with flaky salt, chili flakes and a little toasted sesame oil. One of the highest-protein snacks you can make from a freezer bag.

Dried chrysanthemum flowers and goji berries steeped into a pale gold, honeyed-floral tea, served cold with the softened berries still in the glass.

Lemon juice and a whole bunch of mint blitzed with ice into a pale-green frozen slush. The drink of every Levantine summer street.

Indian lemonade, made savory with black salt and roasted cumin. Sweet, sour, salty and faintly smoky. The fastest cure there is for a hot afternoon.

Very ripe plantains fried until the sugars caramelize into dark, sticky edges and the middles turn to custard. Three ingredients and about ten minutes.

Fresh pineapple blended with ginger and lime into a thick, golden punch. Sweet, sour and hot all at once, and it takes ten minutes.

No cooking, one bowl, fifteen minutes. Chickpeas, cucumber, tomato and kalamata olives tossed in a sharp lemon and red wine vinegar dressing, with plenty of parsley and mint. Holds its own as a light lunch or shrinks to a side.

Cool, herby and thick enough to cling, with the sharpness that makes ranch worth having. Better after an hour in the fridge, and better still the next day.

Smoky, garlicky and the color of terracotta. Five minutes of work that makes fries, burgers and roast vegetables taste like somebody planned ahead.

A pale, fragrant cordial of lemon, sugar and rose water, diluted to order. Floral and cold and old-fashioned, and it keeps for weeks.

Ripe mango blended with plant yogurt and a pinch of cardamom into a thick, cold, barely-sweet drink. The traditional partner to anything fiery.

Strawberries crushed into lemonade with a handful of basil. The basil sounds odd and is the entire reason to make it.

A dark, herby, aggressively savory spiced water: mint, cilantro, tamarind and roasted cumin. Drunk as an appetiser, and it genuinely works as one.

Tortillas toasted flat until they snap, spread with warm cumin-spiked black beans and topped with avocado, red onion and lime. Fifteen minutes, mostly from the cupboard.

Maple syrup infused with chili and a little vinegar until it is sweet, hot and sharp all at once. The vegan answer to hot honey, and it goes on everything.

Gnamakoudji: raw ginger blended, steeped and strained, then sharpened with lime and sweetened. Sold ice-cold on every roadside from Bamako to Abidjan.

Rice and cinnamon soaked overnight, blended and strained into a cloudy, faintly sweet, milky drink. Served very cold, it is the standard partner to anything spicy.