North Macedonia

Eat beside Lake Ohrid at dusk, the water going pink and the town's old churches catching the last light, over a plate of Ohrid trout grilled with nothing but lemon and oil. Then comes the dish the whole country claims as its own — tavče gravče, white beans baked in a shallow earthenware pot with red pepper and paprika until the top sets to a savoury crust — and you understand this is comfort food raised to a point of pride.

The pantry here runs on sunshine: fat red peppers that ripen all summer and, come autumn, get roasted, peeled and stirred down for days into ajvar, the deep-red relish every family jars by the caseload. Around it sit the crossroads staples — a crisp shopska salad under a snowdrift of grated white cheese, flaky burek from a morning bakery, grilled kebapi with raw onion — honest food, generously portioned, meant to be lingered over.