Tucked away on the fourth floor of a nondescript building in the heart of Istanbul's Beyoğlu districts lies a hidden gem that we just discovered, despite the fact that Antakya Mutfağı has been in business for twenty years. Here, the Kar family serves up the cuisine of the southern province of Hatay, which boasts some of Turkey’s richest food. Can Yaşar Kar, the restaurant’s founder, is a furniture-maker by trade who decided to open the place as a hobby and serve faithful renditions of Antakya classics. Historically known as Antioch, Antakya was among the most important cities of its kind during the Roman Empire, and is known for a wealth of historic structures, an iconic archaeology museum, and its cosmopolitan, multi-confessional population. Antakya Mutfağı is now run by his son Sofo, who graduated from university with a degree in international relations but decided that he wanted to helm the restaurant.

Six days a week, Pan con Madre buzzes with activity, filled with the irresistible scents of rows and rows of freshly baked sourdough bread and other treats. While today this is one of Oaxaca’s most interesting and popular bakeries, the road to success for Pan con Madre has been a long journey of experimentation, risk taking and innovation. In 2015, a very inspired Jorge Rodrigo Ocampo, now 38, arrived in Oaxaca City with the idea to open a space where he could put all his bread-baking knowledge into action. During his university years he had complemented his biology studies with a part-time job as photojournalist for newspapers in Guadalajara, Querétaro, and his hometown of León, but it was baking that truly captured his imagination.

Pastory is located on Via Sammartino, in an affluent area of Palermo; however, this fresh pasta shop has its roots in revolution. It all began in 1968, a year marked by emancipatory struggles in France and beyond, which were reshaping societal norms and providing women with new avenues for participation and empowerment. Inspired by this transformative era, Serena Sabatino's grandmother, Angelina di Carluccio, made the decision to migrate from Naples to Palermo. Accompanied by her husband, Raffaele Sabatino, who had secured employment in Sicily, Angelina brought with her a wealth of knowledge about the Neapolitan art of pasta fresca all'uovo (fresh egg pasta).

Just to the east of Flushing, the home of New York City's largest and fastest-changing Chinatown, is a sprawling neighborhood that boasts many of the city's most interesting Korean restaurants and food shops. We hesitate to call it a Koreatown. Compared with the few dense blocks of Manhattan's Koreatown, this part of Queens has a more open feel, with modest buildings, wider streets and more sunlight. Here, in the late 1700s, the Murray family owned a nursery of more than 100 acres filled with trees and other plants imported from around the world. In the late 1800s, when the nursery gave way to residential development, the burgeoning neighborhood was named for the family: Murray Hill.

The post-punk cultural movement of the 1970’s could be described as a period of breaking with traditional elements, embracing the avant-garde and mixing a variety of different influences. It’s also how chef Felipe González describes his restaurant, Otra Cosa Taberna (which translates to “Something Else Tavern”), located in the neighborhood of Sant Andreu. “I like to define Otra Cosa Taberna as ‘post-punk market cuisine’ because is very much a market cuisine; we buy what the neighborhood has to offer,” Felipe explains. “But we’ll also do with these products whatever we want. The interpretation of cuisine, for us, is super free and very ambiguous. You might be eating a Peruvian causa but with octopus and a mayo with olivada, and we totally flip it to present it in a completely different way. The game has no limits.”

Driving east from Oaxaca City, Mexico, into Santiago Matatlán – the town of about ten thousand souls that’s known as the “World Capital of Mezcal” – one’s vista is suddenly dominated by the color green. Across the landscape of gently rolling hills, enormous patchworks of planted agave fields supply the eye with an entire spectrum of verdure, from sage to emerald to jade. The large, spiky magueys, as they’re also called, are everywhere you look, their dusty shades contrasting with the brighter green of the grasses and cacti also dotting the region’s slopes. But we’re not here for mezcal. Instead, different agave beverages are on the menu today: fresh aguamiel and lightly fermented pulque, harvested daily on this land by fifth-generation owner Reina Luisa Cortés Cortés of A&V La Casa del Pulque.

On a busy street in Beşkitaş, nestled between a camera shop and a turşu stand, sits an unassuming storefront offering çiğ köfte. Open only after 3 p.m., it’s easy to walk by and not take notice of what seems like an average fast-food joint. But this is Çiğköfte Yiyelim (which translates to “Let’s eat çiğ köfte!”), and is one of our favorite spots for this dish from southeastern Turkey because of the unique variations offered. Çiğ köfte is a mixture of fine bulgur wheat (sometimes along with raw minced meat), onions, olive oil, tomato and pepper paste, herbs and spices including parsley and cumin, lemon and water that is kneaded together by hand and formed into oblong pieces with characteristic finger-sized indentations in the surface.

Your friends or family are visiting Lisbon for the first time. Where do you take them to eat? If you’re us, it’s a no-brainer: Pica-Pau. Open for less than a year now, the restaurant, for us at least, has become a go-to introduction to the dishes, ingredients and flavors of Portugal. Or, more accurately, the dishes, ingredients and flavors of Lisbon. “Lisbon is a culinary region, just like Trás-os-Montes or Alentejo,” says Luís Gaspar, referring to Portugal’s far north and south, both regions with distinct, recognizable culinary legacies. He’s the chef behind Pica-Pau, and collaborated with the restaurant group Plateform to create a venue that centers around the sometimes-neglected cuisine of Lisbon.

We all have our favorite watering hole – that place close to home where you can have a bite to eat, sip on your preferred drink, have a chat with neighbors, friends, strangers. A place where you feel welcome and frequent often. La Santita, a tiny Latin American restaurant located on the tree-lined Boulevard Eugène Pierre, embodies this description. A sister restaurant to the popular El Santo Cachón, La Santita opened just a little over a year ago, and has rapidly become a neighborhood favorite. Here, owners and Marseille transplants, Chilean-born Cristobal Urizar and his French wife, Mathilde Gineste, serve up traditional Latin American favorites with French verve. After meeting in Honduras while on holiday, the pair moved to Marseille and have called it home for 15 years.

Chef owner Angela Gargiulo calls her restaurant Buatta a trattoria di conversazione – a “conversation eatery.” Tucked in a peaceful corner of Vomero, the Neapolitan shopping district, Buatta is “…a conversation restaurant in the true sense of the word,” Angela tells us. “After cooking, and now that I have excellent collaborators [to help] in the kitchen, I have time to sit next to my customers; I talk to them at the table about the strangest things; it's as if they came over to my house.” Little by little, the restaurant (whose name, Buatta, from the French boite, is a Neapolitan word that means “jar”) has become a destination for those who love simple and quality cuisine, and for those who love to chat.

Mahir Lokantası is one of our favorite diners in the busy Osmanbey area for many reasons. The homey decor with clean white tablecloths, the panoramic view of the intersection of Halaskargazi and Rumeli streets and the warmth of the wood-fired oven that bakes many of the daily specials all keep us coming back. But perhaps what makes Mahir Lokantası so special is the way the chef and owner of the restaurant, Mahir Nazlıcan, brings the flavors of his mother's recipes and his roots from southeast Turkey’s Diyarbakır to life through his dishes. The Turkish diner, also known as esnaf lokantası, is of the most important concepts in Turkish culinary culture. The direct translation is “tradesman restaurant,” and the foods in these diners are cooked in big pots that makes them not only delicious but also affordable.

It’s fall and the wonderful farmers markets of Athens are filled with the season’s harvest; fresh walnuts and chestnuts, persimmons, pomegranates, quince and, of course, the two queens of the season: pumpkin and butternut squash. I love using butternut squash or pumpkin in a variety of recipes and these traditional fritters are one of my favorite ways to enjoy this nutritious vegetable. This is a recipe that I include in my cookbook Salt of the Earth (Quadrille, 2023), and it is inspired by the traditional version from the region of Messenia in southern Peloponnese. In my take on this dish, I add some chopped green olives as I like variety in textures and flavors and the olives, along with crumbled feta, add a beautiful layer of umami to the fritters.

As the summer crowds disappear and the autumn temperatures arrive, les Marseillais await the arrival of a well-known delicacy from the neighboring island of Corsica. Beginning around November, the island’s best-known cheese, Brocciu, also known as national casgiu (the national cheese) shows up in markets and specialty shops. The mild, soft cheese hints at the richness of the island terroir, with aromas of hay and grass. It’s made from goat's or sheep’s milk and whey, and produced only from November until June, when the milk is at its richest. Brocciu first appeared in writings from the 19th century, but Corsican farmers practiced the tradition of making the beloved cheese long before.

If there’s one Portuguese ingredient familiar to all, it’s probably salt cod. And if there’s one Portuguese salt cod dish that’s best known, it’s likely bacalhau à Brás. Why has this particular dish – salt cod scrambled with eggs, onions and matchstick potatoes – risen to the top? “It’s the most democratic,” theorizes chef Luís Gaspar. “It has eggs, potatoes – things everyone likes.”

Jambalaya, the rice dish that stands at the crossroads of culture and cuisine, is a staple of celebration, mourning and everything in between in Louisiana. From tailgates to Mardi Gras to repasts and backyard cookouts, it is a ubiquitous food that can be a main or a side dish. The roots of the dish can be traced to West African jollof rice, as well as Spanish paella. At its essence, jambalaya is an odds-and-ends dish that feeds a multitude, a humble rice dish with some meat and/or seafood cooked into it by way of a flavorful broth. As for the origins of the name jambalaya, there are as many theories as the grains of rice contained within. Some believe it to come from the Provençal word jambalaia, which means a mishmash.