It's a busy fall weekday in Istanbul, the weather is perfect and the streets around Istanbul University, the Beyazit Mosque and the iconic Grand Bazaar are buzzing. In the late afternoon, shopkeepers are scrambling to make their last sales while the best restaurants in the area are getting ready to close. Mediocre establishments are open later into the night, with employees brandishing large menus and coaxing tourists through their doors. Avoiding the crowd around one of the bazaar's main entrances, we saunter down a side street where things instantly feel more local. We've come to the specific address of a kebab restaurant recommended by friend and intrepid Istanbul walk leader Benoit Hanquet, but there is no such eatery in sight.

Mozambican, Portuguese and Cantonese – with a fair bit of Indian thrown in. On the surface, it’s an utterly unlikely culinary mashup. But it makes perfect sense at Bula Bula, a restaurant on Lisbon’s northern outskirts. The husband-and-wife owners of Bula Bula, Ana Lee and Fernando Ho, are ethnic Chinese who can trace their ancestry back to China’s Guangdong (formerly Canton) Province and then to Macau, the latter of which was, for more than 500 years, a Portuguese colony.

On this 6-day Pasta Pilgrimage in Rome and Puglia, you’ll retrace the steps Dan Pashman took while researching his new cookbook, eating at many of the same places where he ate and with many of the same people – including Dan himself!

Sometimes we like to dress up on Friday nights and head out to a nice cocktail bar. But other times, all we want to do is end a busy week with delicious tacos and good conversation. And that’s exactly what we set out to do when we decided to kick off our weekend with an evening on Lorenzo Boturini, also known as Mexico City’s “taco corridor.”

Tbilisi is a city of bread. This staple food has a permanent residency on every kitchen sideboard and a space on every modern table, and has been consumed in Georgia since the beginning of the 6th millennium BC. The demand for fresh bread has produced bakeries throughout the city; multiple in each area and sometimes as many as three along one street. A Tibilsian walking down the street carrying puri (bread) tucked under their arm should really be as emblematic as the baguette-bearing Parisian.

In Italy, “we would call this a bar,” Caterina Pepe tells us. We're chatting inside Cerasella (pronounced “Chair-ah-Sell-ah”), the small pasticceria e caffetteria she owns with her husband, Luca Schiano, not far from their home in Long Island City. In New York, of course, a bar is typically adults-only, and rarely known for its food. Using that name for Cerasella, Caterina adds, would lead New Yorkers astray – but happily so, once they found themselves in front of the pastry case. Caterina and Luca have adopted the term caffeteria instead, to perfectly describe Cerasella: a meeting place for friends and family, suitable for all ages, that serves coffee, breakfast, snacks and sandwiches. Luca, 35, and Caterina, 28, were both born near the Amalfi Coast, in Naples and Montecorvino Rovella, respectively. In Italy, however, their paths never crossed.

Some recipes are so deeply connected with the region from which they originate that they are simply named after that place. Circassian chicken, an appetizer beloved in Turkey and throughout the Caucasus, is such a dish. The recipe itself takes on many different variations across different geographical locations, much like the mosaic of people and cultures that can be found within the large area in which Circassian chicken is enjoyed. There is record of the recipe for Circassian chicken entering Ottoman cuisine as early as the year 1859, by way of immigrants and exiles who came from the Caucasus to the Ottoman Empire.

Some recipes are so deeply connected with the region from which they originate that they are simply named after that place. Circassian chicken, an appetizer beloved in Turkey and throughout the Caucasus, is such a dish. The recipe itself takes on many different variations across different geographical locations, much like the mosaic of people and cultures that can be found within the large area in which Circassian chicken is enjoyed. There is record of the recipe for Circassian chicken entering Ottoman cuisine as early as the year 1859, by way of immigrants and exiles who came from the Caucasus to the Ottoman Empire.

Our friends were puzzled: back after two years away from our hometown of New Orleans, we were heading to a far-eastern suburb of the city to eat. With so many blessed dishes in the city center, why were we out in Chalmette? The answer was simple: Our destination was Secret Thai, a restaurant well worth the trip. Its location may seem odd at first, but it only adds to the allure of making a pilgrimage past the city’s industrial canal and the Lower Ninth Ward. About five miles east by way of the Mississippi River’s bend from the French Quarter, when the condensed city spills into strip malls, Secret Thai sits along another bend on Judge Perez Drive, St. Bernard Parish’s main commercial artery.

On this culinary tour of central Naples, we’ll go off the beaten path by visiting two wildly contrasting neighborhoods, Vomero and the Spanish Quarter. In both we’ll stop into the places – from artisanal producers to street food vendors and more – that locals go to for the quintessential taste of the city, one that was developed over millennia and, on this walk, distilled into a single day of eating and exploring.

“I'm a big pizza eater,” Francesco “Ciccio” Leone confesses. “But what I like most is being together with friends, conviviality.” The broad-shouldered Palermo native, 50, greets everyone who enters his establishment with a welcoming smile. It was during a dinner party held at his home that he came up with the idea for the name of his pizzeria. “The name came about by chance,” he recalls. “My friends would come to my house to eat, they would say, ‘Ciccio, pass me this; Ciccio, pass me that,’ and so I thought of calling the pizzeria Ciccio Passami l’Olio, which means ‘Ciccio, pass me the oil.’”

In the spring of 2017, the Bywater Bakery opened its doors and became something of an “instant institution.” Part casual restaurant and part impromptu community center, the cafe space hummed with perpetual activity. Deadline-racked freelancers posted up with their laptops, soon to be covered in butter-rich pastry flakes. Neighborhood regulars would crowd tables for a lingering lunch visit over salads or sandwiches. On many busy mornings, New Orleans jazz luminaries (the late-Henry Butler, Tom McDermott, John Boutte, Jon Cleary) might wander in to make use of the dining room’s upright piano, filing the space with impromptu performance and the occasional singalong.

“Five years ago, I started to write a cookbook about tripe,” Chef Gareth Storey tells us. “But I realized that I knew nothing about it other than how it was served in France and Italy. I needed to explore more about tripe in different parts of the world.” It could be said that he’s conducting his research in Portugal. Gareth is originally from Ireland, but is currently the head chef of Antiga Camponesa, in Lisbon. The restaurant is overseen by André Magalhães, of Taberna da Rua das Flores fame.

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.

There’s a pocket of Tokyo, strolling distance from the stock exchange and the former commercial center, which feels like a step back in time. Ningyocho is filled with stores specializing in traditional crafts, some more than 100 years old. Here you can buy rice crackers or traditional Japanese sweets or head for a kimono, before watching kabuki (traditional Japanese theater) at Meijiza. On Ningyocho’s main street, just a few minutes from Suitengu Shrine which couples visit to pray to conceive a child or for safe childbirth, is a window. The window isn’t very wide, but a flurry of movement draws the attention of passersby. There, a broad-faced Kazuyuki Tani is making udon, bouncing – no, dancing – as he works.