Among the many legends about pizza in Naples, the most famous and widespread – even though widely confirmed as inaccurate – is the one about the birth of the margherita pizza. Time and time again the story has been repeated, according to which this most beloved pizza was born in the summer of 1889, baked at the Capodimonte royal palace. Made by the cook and pizzaiolo Raffaele Esposito of Brandi Pizzeria, the pizza was intended as an homage to Queen Margherita di Savoia, wife of the first king of Italy (as a united nation) Umberto I, and to the country's three-colored flag.

Summer markets in Marseille come alive, bathed in a colorful, brilliant bounty when fruits and vegetables are in their prime. There are over 25 open markets in Marseille and every Saturday, our mornings are booked. We set out to one of our neighborhood favorites, the market at Place Sébastopol in the town center, to search for a particular treat. A summertime market grandstander is the fleur de courgette, or zucchini blossom. This gorgeous, bright yellow-orange edible flower is in season from May through September. The blossoms are prepared in almost every way imaginable, as toasty beignets (fritters) or farcis, stuffed flowers that contain meat, rice, cheese and vegetables bathed in tomato sauce. Zucchini blossoms can also be eaten raw, and are delicious in a summer salad.

Walk around Piazza Marina and you will come across several city monuments and historical sites. You’ll be enchanted by Palazzo Steri, which today houses the university rectory but until a few centuries ago was home to the infamous Inquisition Tribunal. You will also find the place where the famous New York policeman of Italian origin, Joe Petrosino, who came to Palermo to investigate the Sicilian mafia, was murdered in the early 20th century. At the center of the square, in Villa Garibaldi, designed by the famous architect Basile and dedicated to the leader of the Unification of Italy, stands the largest Ficus tree in Europe: a true natural monument that unloads the weight of its prominence on branches that end up expanding its roots by breaking their way through centuries-old sidewalks.

Some parts of the Mitaka Chige Club’s name obviously ring true. It is one of many restaurants and bars clustered around Mitaka station’s North exit. Jiggae (often written “chige” in Japanese katakana), a shockingly red Korean soup with a gochujang base, occupies a substantial portion of the main menu. The “club” aspect becomes evident with the palpable feeling that this whole experience is carried by a small group. Passionate individuals on both sides of the counter are the lifeblood of the Mitaka Chige Club.

Las Chiquihuitas is a relative newcomer to Oaxaca’s organics scene that celebrates its two-year anniversary this month. A tiny sliver of a corner store located right smack-dab in the city’s historic center, the shop manages to pack a surprising amount of organic, local and lovingly produced foods within the diminutive confines of its four walls. A quick examination of Chiquihuitas’ lone refrigerator turns up a candy-colored array of seasonally flavored kombuchas and ginger beers stacked above a selection of buffalo milk butter and cheeses sourced from the Oaxacan coast, plus chunky glass jars of ferments ranging from classic sauerkraut to spicy kimchi. The store’s selection of dry goods might include shiny black beans, sticky, dark-brown blocks of the unprocessed sugar known as panela and jugs of fragrant virgin coconut oil. Happily, there’s a robust lineup of fresh produce, too, with juicy tomatoes, spiky pineapples and nubby potatoes peeking out of the black plastic crates dominating one of the store’s shelving units.

We all have that friend. A friend we should probably call more often. One who is always there for us, but we don’t see often enough. A friend who we can pick up where we left off with, no matter how much time has elapsed between conversations. A friend whose company always leaves you satisfied and wondering: Why didn’t we do this sooner? Buffa’s Bar and Restaurant is that friend. An outpost in the Marigny neighborhood on Esplanade Avenue, divided from the French Quarter by a neutral ground (which is New Orleanian for “street median”). A few blocks away, the classic dive bar Port of Call draws tourists and locals in a line that stretches around the block for their potent drinks and hearty burgers.

In over a decade of sampling the best of Mexico City’s backstreets, finding a truly good taco has never been an elusive task. Navigating all the different types, toppings and tortillas is another story – from al pastor with Lebanese roots to pit-roasted barbacoa to delectable clay pots of stews for tacos de guisado, the world of Mexico City tacos feels infinite. There appears to be a different taco for every occasion, and the options can be overwhelming. Our local guides have done their due diligence in finding some of Mexico City’s best tacos and, in a long overdue roundup, below we bring you some of our favorites to date. From classic taquerías to busy market stalls and even an auto repair shop, read on for our top taco recommendations.

We’re in Os Papagaios, the restaurant Joaquim Saragga oversees in Lisbon’s Arroios neighborhood, where we’ve asked him to show us how to make one of Lisbon’s more iconic dishes: ervilhas guisadas, peas braised with Portuguese sausages, typically crowned with poached eggs. Come spring, Portugal revels in green-hued produce: fava beans, asparagus, artichoke, spinach and other leaves. Peas feature in this bounty, but the ubiquity of frozen peas means that the dish makes frequent appearances on tasca and restaurant menus during all times of year.

“The future is in water and grain,” says Natia Kalandarishvili. She is the co-founder of Graminea, a minimalist but inviting shop in Sololaki whose mission goes beyond just selling the best sourdough in town. The bakery uses endemic Georgian wheat for their bread flour in an effort to support rebalancing the national wheat market – an unusual approach in a bread-heavy cuisine which relies primarily on imported wheat. Natia and her friend Salome Zakaraia started Graminea in February 2023. Now head baker, Salome was previously a makeup artist by profession, working on film sets. But like many others during the Covid-19 pandemic, she started baking sourdough while she was stuck at home.

It’s a bit of culinary magic. Plain old black-eyed peas are transformed into a fluffy white cloud, before somehow changing once again, this time into a crimson, crispy fritter. This is acarajé, and as a dish with origins in Bahia, the homeland of Afro-Brazilian spirituality, other types of magic can also play a role. In Lisbon, you can witness the results of this transformation at Acarajé da Carol. “There are other people [in Portugal] making acarajé, but they’re not from Bahia!” the eponymous owner – full name Carol Alves de Brito – tells us. Bahia, Carol’s homeland, is the region of Brazil with the strongest links to Africa. Salvador, the state’s capital, was once a major destination in the trans-Atlantic slave trade, and today it’s the largest Black city outside of Africa.

At a booth bathed in the winter sun, a group of coworkers happily munch burgers and frites. Behind them, a toddler claps with glee as his mom hands him a meal in a colorful box. Two teens bypass the counter to punch in their order at the giant phone-like kiosk. Customers in cars wait in line at the drive-thru. Despite all these trappings of a fast-food joint, and the Golden Arches on the sign outside, this is no McDonald’s. Even if it was born from one. L'Après M is a fast-food restaurant, professional integration project, food bank, and community center, all rolled into one unique spot. Its name (the M stands for “McDonald’s”) refers to its previous tenant.

On a warm, sunny weekend afternoon in the spring of 2022, we visited a street fair on Myrtle Ave., a major thoroughfare that cuts through Ridgewood, Queens. The roadway was closed to traffic, in favor of street food vendors, for many blocks; the only bus in sight was a 1950s coach, which we boarded to peruse the vintage advertisements and the lounge-like seating at the rear. But despite our appetite, none of the street food vendors tempted us. We continued walking eastward, beyond the street fair and into the adjoining neighborhood of Glendale, until we were drawn toward the sight of a familiar, eternally hungry, cartoon character holding a hamburger.

Situated on a pleasant corner in the heart of Kurtuluş is an unlikely yet warmly welcomed addition to this beloved neighborhood's excellent food scene: Horo Burger, which only features Sloppy Joes on its menu. While the name of this American classic conjures pleasant memories of family dinner for some and horrifying flashbacks from the school cafeteria for others, Horo's take on the Sloppy Joe is faithful yet elevated, just as put-together as it is messy.

Athens’s central and largest food market is located off of National Road, between downtown Athens and Piraeus port, in an industrial area called Rendis. It covers about 60 acres of land and was inaugurated back in 1959 when the city realized that the two existing markets of Piraeus and central Athens were not enough to cover the population’s needs. But there was also a vision of developing Rendis (which back then was an agricultural zone, with lots of farmers working the fields in the area) as the main source of food supply for the city of Athens. Moreover, the location that was picked for the market was convenient, as it is easy to access both from the north and south of Attica. For visitors today, it’s best to drive there or take a taxi, and once you approach the market, you’ll notice the huge trucks heading towards it. Larger shops selling vegetables, fruit, seafood, meat and hundreds of other food products line the entrance and wind around the main market gate.

As a singular city that differs from the rest of France, it is no surprise that Marseille has its own lingo. Parler marseillais (Marseille speak) is mostly Provençal, the original dialect of Provence, peppered with Italian, Arabic and other languages spoken in the multicultural city. We call the fervent fans of our football team OM “fada,” Provençal for crazy. Tarpin, which means “very” in Romani Caló, is used on the daily by the hyperbolic Marseillais. When the fruit vendor rounds up your bag of peaches, that is the “bada,” Provençal for the “extra bit.” It makes a fitting name for a baker known for her bite-sized treats.