Myanmar

Myanmar is one of the few countries on earth where tea is eaten as often as it's drunk. Laphet thoke — fermented tea leaves tossed at the table with crunchy fried beans, peanuts, sesame, garlic and a squeeze of lime — is offered to guests and passed round after a meal, half snack and half ritual. It sits at the centre of a cuisine that prizes savoury, sour and umami over chilli heat, anchored by ngapi, the fermented fish or shrimp paste that underpins almost every home-cooked spread.

Breakfast is where the country shows its hand. A bowl of mohinga — rice noodles in a deep, lemongrass-scented fish broth thickened with gram flour — is eaten standing at a street stall before the day gets going, and it's about as close to a national dish as Myanmar has. In the eastern hills, Shan cooks turn out lighter rice noodles and chickpea tofu; in Bamar kitchens the curries are cooked si pyan, simmered until the oil rises and pools on top. Pull up a low stool at a teahouse, order strong sweet milk tea and a plate of fritters, and watch the town go past.