Throughout Mexico, both foods and drinks are centered around corn, a tendency that’s most evident in Mexico’s wide variety of antojitos, or “little cravings,” small, portable snacks featuring some variation on the corn tortilla – of which the taco is undoubtedly the most well-known globally – antojitos are one of the joys of Mexican cuisine, and vary impressively across the country’s 32 states. In the southwestern state of Oaxaca, there’s no shortage of delicious antojitos – at breakfast, soft, steaming tamales wrapped in the region’s abundant banana leaves are the name of the game, while night owls have ample opportunity to crunch into a tlayuda, a giant tortilla folded over lots of shredded, mozzarella-like quesillo cheese, then griddled over hot coals until crispy on the outside and molten on the inside.

At a quick glance, the dimly lit entrance of Chinatown’s Far East Plaza shows a handful of humble restaurants selling familiar rice noodle dishes, banh mi sandwiches, and pho. Once inside, rays of light guide you to a busy open-air plaza that hosts a thriving, out-of-sight destination for curious eaters where vendors have long lines, sell-out early, or prefer reservations. Among the many businesses celebrated here, open only Friday through Sunday and selling out within a few hours, is Baker's Bench by Jennifer Yee. Peering into a small glass case as if they were gazing at precious gems, customers visiting Baker's Bench are privy to rows of flaky chocolate croissants, moist blueberry muffins, rich black sesame cookies and buttery Danish pastries.

Before we start this story, we must first explain the role of the platia in Greece. Platia (πλατεία, pronounced pla-tee-ah and sometimes spelled plateia) means “plaza” in Greek, and can refer to a central town square or a small neighborhood square. All ages meet at the platia: babies in strollers, loud children running and playing like there’s no tomorrow, teenagers having their first smoke or kiss, parents, grandparents, cats, dogs! These squares are to be found all around Greece, even in the most remote village. The role of the plaza in an Athenian neighborhood is even more vital and precious. It preserves the idea of a neighborhood, where everyone gets to know each other and share something in common.

It’s a warm summer day, yet inside Stramuntana, a restaurant in Porto devoted to the cooking of Portugal’s northern Trás-os-Montes region, a hearth is blazing. “In the past, people in Trás-os-Montes used wood-burning ovens all year,” says Lídia Brás, Stramuntana’s co-chef and co-owner, when we express our surprise in seeing a fireplace in operation during the hotter months. “There was no electricity or gas. Everything here is thought through to be authentic." It’s a small lesson in the foodways and culture of Portugal’s northernmost region, as well as an illustration of this restaurant’s deep dedication to authenticity.

Whenever I come back to Japan, I crave eggs. We go straight to our buddy's house and his wife almost always makes us a bowl of rice with a raw egg on top of it. And that's often my kick-off to being back. There are definitely restaurants where you can get that, but the eggs here are so incredibly delicious that I just crave them [by themselves], with some seaweed sprinkled on top and a little good soy sauce. It is, for me, one of my all-time comfort dishes. We almost always start our days at the FamilyMart, which is one of the convenience store chains near where I stay when I'm visiting. My wife and I have an egg salad sandwich about every other day for the whole trip. For $1.75, they are shockingly delicious.

Up above Freedom Square where the Sololaki and Mtatsminda neighborhoods blend together, there is a 100-year-old building with an apartment five steps below the sidewalk. It’s a warm, intimate space, part living room, part museum. A massive collection of wine glasses hang from the ceiling, 19th-century framed portraits of Georgians decorate one wall above a piano, while opposite are glass cases displaying antique ceramic pitchers and elegant, polished drinking horns called kantsi. There are also two vintage silver vessels – exquisite ashtray-sized pans with long stylized handles used in days of old for drinking wine to special toasts. This cup is called an azarphesha, and this entire collection (and the walls containing it) belong to Luarsab Togonidze, a folklorist, author, entrepreneur and co-owner of this welcoming restaurant, also called Azarphesha.

When a streetcar ran down Queens’ Metropolitan Avenue in the first half of the 20th century, soda fountains like Eddie’s Sweet Shop were commonplace in big cities and small towns across America. Today, this hundred-year-old corner gem on Metropolitan in the leafy, Tudor-style enclave of Forest Hills is one of the last of its kind left in the country, and it certainly shows its vintage. On summer afternoons, Eddie’s still fills up with crowds of happy Queens kids, and the diversity of the clientele reminds you that fortunately, it’s not the 1920s anymore. The shop itself, though, is practically unchanged – every piece of equipment behind the counter, from the shiny Frigidaire to the tiny metal cabinet hand-painted with the words “hot fudge,” could be from a museum.

Tarlabaşı, right in the heart of Istanbul’s European side, has the reputation of being among the worst areas in the city. While it is certainly run down, we have spent considerable time in the quarter over the years and have had no problems. Its reputation is exaggerated, and if you aren't looking for trouble, you aren't likely to find it. Amid the once-elegant and now dilapidated century-old apartments built by the Greeks and Armenians that originally lived in the area, there are other buildings from a variety of eras on the verge of collapse, while a massive “urban renewal” project that has been ongoing for over a decade amid legal and financial issues has stuck out like a sore thumb as the rest of the rugged quarter retains its character.

San Gregorio, located in the southernmost part of Mexico City, is a pueblo originario (“original pueblo”), a designation given by the government to towns that have held onto their traditions. One of those traditions in San Gregorio is growing produce in the chinampería, an ancient agricultural system comprised of man-made islands crisscrossed by canals. People who farm there are called chinamperos. One of the prized crops in this area is the small, spicy chile chicuarote, which has been grown exclusively in the pueblo for centuries. People living in San Gregorio Atlapulco are so enamored with the tiny chile that they proudly call themselves Chicuarotes.

The squat, bright yellow building with red trim that houses Two Sistas ‘N Da East has the hours of operation – 10:30 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. – painted in big red letters on its side beneath a sign that announces “Soul Food.” But these days, hours are fluid and subject to change, especially in the restaurant business, so we double-checked the hours to make sure. Google told us that the hours of operation had been updated by the business in the last two weeks. We felt good about it. So, it was even more surprising when a hand reached out the door with two fingers extended upward in the peace sign and we heard a voice say “11 a.m., baby.”

As the sun dawns over the city of Palermo, warming the narrow streets still dampened by the night, merchants in the old quarter set up stands with their products: plentiful fruits, vegetables, meat and fish await the Palermitans who prefer to do their shopping here rather than in supermarkets illuminated by cold neon lights. At the Vucciria, one of the city's historic markets, Andrea Vattiato is setting up the fish counter where he has worked for half a century. He displays on ice a selection of the best fish the Mediterranean Sea has to offer, and with the help of a hose he wets the fish.

You don’t have to look far to find a glass of wine in Lisbon. But a unique glass of wine – perhaps something made by a small producer, or a bottle from an obscure region – in a comfortable or perhaps even trendy atmosphere, poured by someone who can explain what you’re drinking? That’s where it gets tough. But Lisbon can deliver. In recent years, the city has seen an explosion of wine bars. If we broaden the term, these could include restaurants with forward-thinking wine lists such as Insaciável, Senhor Uva, Tati and Sem. But we wanted to focus on venues that, in our opinion at least, prioritize bottles and glasses over plates.

What is it that’s so dizzyingly addictive about okonomiyaki? It might be the interactive DIY nature of building your own meal and serving it up from a Japanese teppan grill. Perhaps it’s the communal feeling of sitting around with a beer or two and cooking together. However, most likely is the fact that it’s so darn delicious and satisfying. It’s Japanese soul food that has somehow not quite reached the shores of many foreign countries. Okonomiyaki is a flavorful pancake chock full of whatever ingredients appeal, cooked on a Japanese grill (okono means “cook whatever you like” and yaki means grill). In all parts of Japan it's the secret second cousin to ramen in the family of fast food and cheap student eats.

As we shoot dishes in Criolense Kitchen Club, drawing attention as photography often does, we get the distinct impression that locals passing by are noticing the space for the first time. It’s possible they hadn’t noticed this bar/restaurant in Lisbon’s Graça neighborhood because, well, it has no sign. Criolense Kitchen Club shares space with art gallery Hangar, which both outside and in boasts the kind of muted, ship-gray tones and industrial elements one might associate with an edgy art space or perhaps even a workshop. There’s the approximate infrastructure of a restaurant, but the vibe feels more like a private party. It’s the kind of place that inspires the thought, “What, exactly, is going on in there?”

One of the most powerful and restorative culinary combos enjoyed in Mexico is, without a doubt, seafood and micheladas, delicious concoctions made with beer – usually lager – and a mix of sauces, lime and spices, which can go from zero to quite spicy. A michelada is one of those drinks that it is often judged a priori but loved after the first or second taste. The mix of a light beer and the power of spices create a wonderful balance that, when served with fresh seafood, can refresh and restore us on a hot summer afternoon or after a long night out. During weekends, it is very common to see groups of people looking for seafood and beer menus all over Mexican cities.