One of Lisbon’s best views is just steps away from Largo da Graça in Saint Andre, one of the city’s seven hills. The famous overlook offers views of most of the city and even some of the Tejo river. Most days it’s filled with a mix of tourists making good use of their selfie sticks, wanderers minding their own business and street musicians busking for small change. But locals – or, at least, locals who like to eat well – prefer to hang out a few meters back, at one of the neighborhood’s iconic restaurants. O Pitéu da Graça could also be described as having an excellent view – but only if you like looking at fish. Yes, the thing to see here is the menu’s crowded fish section.

To make excellent octopus broth, you must first fill a huge pot with water to the brim – at least 20 liters – bring it to a boil, add salt and pepper in industrial quantities and immerse four large octopuses. After 33 minutes (and not one more) of simmering, it’s ready: the octopus has reached the perfect consistency. Yet in Naples there’s a saying, “The octopus cooks in its own water” – a proverb that means that a person needs to get to the truth on his own and in his own time. Lello tells us that what this saying is referring to isn’t actually true, since clearly, an octopus needs much more water than what it comes with to actually cook.

On the left bank of Tbilisi’s Mtkvari River in the Plekhanov district is David Aghmashenebeli Avenue, a thoroughfare long associated with wallet-friendly Turkish restaurants and discount clothing boutiques. Some 15 years ago, the crumbling 19th-century buildings and huge eucalyptus trees that lined the street were crowded with people hawking everything from wooden utensils to costume jewelry, fresh produce and coffee beans labeled “Nescafé.” It was a congested, lively sidewalk bazaar of sorts that exemplified the Asiatic spirit of Tbilisi. However, a massive urban renewal project in 2011 put an end to the colorful disorder. Today, most of Aghmashenebeli is a sensible European-looking boulevard that the former President of Georgia likened to Paris, although the Turkish restaurants are still there serving up tasty Anatolian specialties.

It was a great disappointment for Francesco, owner of this tripe shop in Naples, to learn that the website, Tripadvisor, was not just about entrails. Wouldn’t it be great if it were?

On the last floor of a high building in Marquês de Pombal – Lisbon’s financial and commercial area – is the headquarters of the Associação Cabo Verde, the oldest of its kind in the capital. Its unexpected location aside, it draws many from the community who need support with issues relating to law and integration issues and acts as a central meeting point for all types, including academics. As well as organizing events focusing on post-colonial Cape Verde and its diaspora, the association also hosts regular festive lunches (almoço dancantes), with live music on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Cape Verdeans, particularly those from the island of Santiago, form one of the biggest migrant communities in Portugal. Because of the cyclical drought that afflicts the 10 volcanic islands making up this archipelago, the country’s sense of homeland coexists with the idea of movement, with Cape Verde recognized by many as an essentially diasporic nation.

Neapolitan cuisine encompasses such a variety of dishes, ingredients and preparations that sitting down for lunch in Naples is always a feast of smells, tastes, colors and sensations. Menus here are populated by numerous meat dishes and equally many seafood options, and the extraordinary variety of vegetables are complemented by unique dairy products, preserves and sweets steeped in history and quality. Restaurant kitchens know how to be baroque (as demonstrated by menesta maretata, a complex soup that “marries” a variety of vegetables and cuts of meat), sumptuous (as in eggplant parmigiana), or deceptively simple (as in the classic spaghetti aglio e olio, which combines the basic trio of pasta, garlic and oil to great effect).

While in many parts of Europe consumer capitalism has brought an invasion of chain supermarkets and restaurants, contributing to the extinction of independent family-run grocers, Naples and the small distinct districts of its old town have magically managed to resist. The neighborhood markets retain a charm that is reminiscent of a by-gone era when Europe’s streets would smoke and hiss and the ground would be covered in cabbage crusts and fish entrails. The city’s cobbled and narrow streets revolve around civic life, which still brims with stalls selling fresh mollusks, sacks of nuts, knots of garlic and onions, rounds of cheese and hanging hams.

The lunch hour winds down (or starts up), among the stevedores in the Lisbon docks. This is a sight one is likely to encounter on our Song of the Sea walk.

Mexico City can be quite lacking when it comes to finding fresh, tasty seafood. At most markets in the city, in addition to the taco places and tlacoyo vendors, there is usually some kind of stand selling seafood, but the quality can be either very good or very bad. Buying from the right place is thus essential, and that’s why we were so happy to discover La Morenita, a standout seafood and oyster restaurant in Colonia Roma’s Mercado Medellín. Established more than three decades ago by Miguel Gardono, La Morenita has become a busy, reliable stop for shoppers.

Jambú-infused cachaça is bitter and a bit grassy, and newcomers to the drink often grimace at first taste. But seconds later something happens: the liquor's harshness gives way to a gentle tingling, then numbness, first on the tip of the tongue, then to the lips and the back of the throat. Next, the mouth salivates, pulses, and other foods and drinks take on new flavors: a cheap beer suddenly tastes like champagne. The second quaff is often taken much more eagerly than the first. Jambú, or acmella oleracea, is a flowering herb found throughout the Amazon and other warm, humid climates.

The Michelin Guide might have come to Shanghai last year, but the far more interesting trend for budget diners in the city is the fast-casual local restaurants opened by savvy young Chinese with an eye for design and a great palate. The Noodlista is one such shop – just check out its logo. The character for noodles is warped into a downward facing arrow, as if to say, “Get your noodles here!” It’s good advice, and local millennials are taking it: come lunchtime, Noodlista is always packed to the gills with young worker bees from nearby office towers. Showcasing the management’s fluency with both Eastern and Western cultures, English and Chinese coexist happily on the menu.

Mamouniyeh is a lovely semolina pudding that is a speciality in Syrian kitchens, and it can be enjoyed right here in Istanbul on our Kebab Krawl walk.

Getting ready for a recent New Year’s in Harlem, the Hungarian side of the family was craving a traditional pot of lentils that needed a hunk of smoked pork knuckle. Where to find one with the right flavor in New York City? After some calls and searching, we headed out to Muncan Food Corporation. The address brought us to a storefront along a strip of low-rise brick buildings in Astoria, Queens. Inside the front door we were blasted with smokehouse aromas. To the left: racks of sausages, pâtés, cold cuts – all kinds of dried and cured delicacies dangling from hooks overhead.

The largest of New York’s five boroughs, Queens is the home of over two million people, half of them born outside the United States, speaking more than 140 different languages. It’s perhaps the only place on the face of the planet where Tagalog bumps up hard against Romanian.