Behind Istanbul's hulking Çağlayan courthouse in the center of town near the main highway, there is a series of mixed industrial-residential neighborhoods with a handful of restaurants, none of which are particularly noteworthy. That was until Kaburgacı Koray recently opened up shop on the corner of a backstreet in the area, quickly winning over not just the lawyers and other courthouse employees who now have a lunch spot to die for, but also people from all over town, who, like us, quickly realized that Kaburgacı Koray is perhaps the best kebapçı in Istanbul.

Two-and-a-half kilometers of curves and narrow alleys at 150 meters above sea level. Breathtaking views overlooking the sea. A coast dominated by the blue of the sky and dotted with arabesque domes. All around is the unmistakable perfume of the sfusato amalfitano – the Amalfi lemon.

Walk into most any izakaya in Tokyo and you’ll find folks gathered around tables overloaded with an assortment of sashimi, yakitori, edamame, cups of sake and bottles of Asahi. Here is Japan’s answer to the tapas bar, outshining most any after-work happy hour. The charm of izakaya dining lies in the variety: From crispy tempura to savory miso cod, each dish demands sharing and, sometimes, a little exploration. Once the exclusive stomping grounds for sarariman (salarymen) to unwind their ties and ambitions, izakayas can sometimes be the domain of tobacco-puffing old men. But times are changing, with spots like Shake Kojima serving mostly female clientele. The izakaya was featured in a popular manga adaptation, in which a young woman ditches her co-workers to eat and drink her way through Tokyo.

As he drove us to Tlacolula, some 19 miles east of Oaxaca City, in his burgundy-and-white taxi, salsa music in the background and a tiny bronze cross hanging from his rearview mirror, our driver Félix was philosophizing about migration. Like many other Oaxacan men, he had, at one point, crossed the border from Mexico to California in search of a better life. And like many fellow countrymen, he had come back home because he refused to live a life of persecution and uncertainty due to his legal status as an undocumented immigrant. His life back in Mexico was good; hard, yes, but joyful. “I can eat fresh fruits, dance with my kids, watch them grow. If this is not quality of life, I don’t know what it is,” he reflects. The music stops and so does Félix’s taxi. In the middle of the Tlacolula highway we’ve arrived at one of the area’s largest gas stations, and our destination.

In Georgia, there are certain dishes that everyone associates with Orthodox Easter: paska, a sweet panettone-like bread and chakapuli, a lamb stew. However, there is another Georgian Easter tradition, one often overlooked: nazuki. Beautifully glazed and filled with raisins and spices, in recent years these fluffy sweet breads have become associated almost exclusively with the village of Surami in the Kartli region. In this small settlement between Tbilisi and Kutaisi in the West, huts line the side of the highway, each with a tone (a cylindrical traditional oven), a baker and a family nazuki recipe.

Souvlaki might just be Greece’s most popular food. Meat cooked on a stick, wrapped in a pita, dressed with sliced tomato and onion and a dollop of tzatziki, it can be eaten on the run – and it’s often the first thing visitors run to eat as soon as they arrive in this country. It’s an enduring favorite for Greeks, too. Not only is it delicious, but the standard kebab* is also inexpensive, costing around just 3 to 4 euros. The challenge, then, is to find kebabs and gyros that are more imaginative, still juicy and delicious, with a wider range of fillings and toppings, perhaps even vegetarian and vegan options – and which are still moderately priced.

We were somewhat intimidated by doing a profile of Nova Pombalina, a snack bar in Lisbon’s Baixa neighborhood. When we stopped by to arrange an interview and shoot, the staff – when they finally had a spare second to chat – seemed slightly suspicious and generally disinterested. And our first attempt at a shoot and interview was postponed for reasons that weren’t entirely clear to us. It isn’t much different when we ultimately arrive. It’s 11 a.m. on a Saturday, but the place is already buzzing with customers – a slightly rowdy group of Irish bros, a local who had stopped in for breakfast, a couple Spanish families. Eventually, when things slow down, we sit down at a table with co-owner, Manuel Maurício. He tells us that in 1980, he and his brother, Virgílio, took over the space, which had been in operation since 1938.

The traditional way of preparing coffee in Italy is using a manual lever coffee machine, which allows for precise control over the temperature and pressure of the water, resulting in a rich and flavorful cup of coffee. But there’s more to it than just technique. In some cafés in Sicily, coffee is not simply a craft but a cultural artifact, creating it considered a work of art. Though Palermo has its fair share of coffee, it’s not always easy to find cafés where these traditions are honored with care and diligence. The Bar del Corso is one such hidden gem in the heart of Palermo. Located on the bustling Via Vittorio Emmanuel – the oldest street in Palermo, where every vendor vies for attention – its modest storefront does not catch the eye at first glance.

When the neighborhood institution Öz Konak Lokantası closed back in December 2022, it left a hole in the bustling, bohemian-turned-touristy Cihangir neighborhood for reliable, homestyle lunch and dinner food. And not just food, but a feeling of community and home that the restaurant had offered its former customers. Dilara Eren, a chef and recipe developer, was, at that moment, finishing up a job as the Turkey community manager for a food recipe app and figuring out what was next in her career. She’d managed a big restaurant in the past and had been catering on the side, building a local following for her creative, delicious dishes. Neighborhood friends kept saying, “We need a new lunch place to replace Oz.” With that in mind she opened Zerze, an inviting, new-generation lokanta on the busy main street that runs through the neighborhood.

Across Marseille, winter’s neon-yellow mimosas have given way to amandiers’ (almond trees’) fragrant white and pink blooms. Here, the French adage, “en avril, ne te découvre pas d'un fil. En mai fais ce qu'il te plaît,” (in April, don't remove a stitch. In May, do as you wish,”) is oft quipped, for our springtime weather can be fickle. Last weekend, I took a dip in the Mediterranean to cool off after a sun-soaked, 70-degree hike; as I write this, the local mistral wind has iced down the air temperature to just above freezing. Despite spring’s yo-yoing thermometer, ‘tis the season for Marseillais to fill up outdoor patios.

It snowed in Tokyo on March 22 – a wet, rain-like snow that puddled as soon as it touched the ground, but snow nonetheless. It was un-springlike as the week before was sunny. Early spring is sly and tricky here. One moment the kawazu-zakura have blanketed trees in pink popcorn blooms, the next moment it’s cloudy skies and planning hotpot dinners all over again. But it is glorious when temperatures aren’t whipsawing wildly from hot to freezing, when spring finally deigns to show up in the form of balmy, blue-skied days and flowers blooming everywhere. Spring days like this are beautiful for cycling in Tokyo. Fresh air, warm sun and, best of all, no freezing fingers and ears when you’re on a bike.

Spring in Naples is the sweetest season. As in many Italian and Mediterranean cities, the sunlight is gentle and temperatures are mild, which makes walking the ups and downs of the hilly city more enjoyable. And, should the blue of the sky be shaded by the clouds, the white-and-blue celebratory flags which anticipate the long-awaited local soccer team’s victory at the national soccer championship – defeating the Neapolitans’ famous superstition – restore the appropriate shade at every corner of the city. If it’s still too early – for most of people, at least – to take a swim in the gulf or cruise it on a kayak, this is the perfect time to explore Naples on foot, discovering its unexpected green soul.

Our most immediate question about a spring day in Queens is often answered when we wake up, just by looking out the window: How's the weather? Springtime in Queens can be overcast or sunny, drizzly or dry, blustery or breezy, chilly or temperate, often cycling between pleasant and inclement every two or three days. When we identify a day that's too good to waste indoors, it's time to take full advantage.

In the song that became almost an anthem of Porto, the famous songwriter Rui Veloso describes the city where he was born in phrases like “of this beautiful and darkening light” and “seeing you abandoned like that in that brownish timbre.” Certainly, Veloso, one of the best-known artists in Portuguese music, wasn’t thinking about Porto during the springtime. Portugal’s second city is completely transformed when the season of flowers arrives: the weather and the mood gets sunny, lively, and colorful, an invitation for locals and tourists to go outdoors. Flowers bloom in parks, and tables in cafes and bars are crowded with people. It is the prelude of the effervescent life of the city taking shape. The portuenses (as the locals are called) know how to enjoy the city when the temperatures get warmer and the days get longer.

At the end of a long wooden table, a foursome passes colorful plates of food: mouthwatering meat dumplings in tomato sauce, sauteed zucchini topped with minty yogurt, and rice flecked with cumin. Sitting across from a refrigerator, below a row of fake potted plants, and beside shelves stacked with mismatched plates, they could be dining at someone’s house. Which is, in fact, Chez Romain et Marion’s raison d’être. “We want people to feel honored that they’re dining at an Afghan family’s home,” shares Romain. His mother, Myriam Rahman Ebadi, simmers homey dishes like dâl, turmeric red lentils, and achak, leek ravioli, in the restaurant’s tiny kitchen.