Unless you know it’s there, you might miss this tiny shop hidden behind a bus stop on the outskirts of the northern Athenian suburb of Chalandri. Many Athens kiosks are twice, three times the size. But it’s certainly cozy, and once you’ve discovered it, you’ll keep going back, not just for the sweets – which would put a smile on the face of Scheherazade – but also for the spices, condiments, nuts, cardamom-perfumed coffee, arak and other hard-to-find Lebanese specialties, or maybe just to have a chat with the owner, Lina Tabbara.

Dear Culinary Backstreets,I am very confused regarding drinking over in Athens. Do Greeks even drink ouzo anymore? If so, when do they drink it? Also, my friends have told me something called “tsipouro” is more popular these days – what’s that drink all about?

The origins of pasteli, a honey and sesame bar sold everywhere in Greece from supermarkets to delis to bakeries, can be traced back to Greek and Roman antiquity. Athenaeus of Naucratis, in his Deipnosophistae (“The Dinner Experts”), written in the 3rd century A.D., mentions it many times, and references to pasteli can be found all over ancient Greek and Byzantine texts.

Whether you are arriving in Athens by ship or airplane, both the port and the airport are near enough to be able to venture out and enjoy a little bit of the city if you have at least a few hours. The airport is 35 to 40 minutes by metro from downtown Athens (but be sure to take into account a 10- to 15-minute wait). Coming from the port is more complicated, as Piraeus is enormous. Opposite gates E5 and E6 you can find the electric railway, which connects to the metro and can take you straight to the heart of the city.

Let us begin with a little Greek mythology. Hermes – son of Zeus, god of thieves and commerce and messenger of Olympus – and Krokos, a mortal youth, were best friends. One day, while the two friends were practicing their discus throwing, Hermes accidentally hit Crocus on the head and wounded him fatally. On the very spot where he was felled, a beautiful flower sprang up. Three drops of blood from Krokos’s head fell on the center of the flower, from which three stigmas grew. This is just one of many origin stories for Crocus sativus, or the saffron crocus, whose crimson stigmas are harvested to make the highly prized spice of the same name.

It’s October and mushroom season in many parts of Europe, but if you were hoping for anything like Genoa’s Porcini Festival in Athens, you’re out of luck. But don’t despair: ‘shrooms, wild and cultivated, can be found; it just takes a little sleuthing.

Kifisia, as we’ve mentioned before, used to be a holiday destination for wealthy Athenians, and its suburban charms remain intact. Green spaces, high-end shops and close proximity to most of Athens’ international schools have seduced a number of expats into settling down here. We’ve written previously about the original Nice ‘n’ Easy in Kolonaki; it’s one of the few non-smoking establishments in a city where everyone puffs up all the time.

Gnarled evergreen mastiha (mastic) trees cling to terraced hillsides throughout the southern part of Chios, a Greek island in the Aegean. These humble trees (Pistacia lentiscus var. chia) have been fought over and cherished for thousands of years because they produce “tears” of delicious and healing sap. The best pharmacists in ancient times used to concoct luxurious healing balms with mastiha sap; Emperor Justinian’s personal physician mixed mastiha and deer brains to make a beauty cream. We haven’t tried that recipe yet.

Athens has never been an in-bed-by-11-p.m. kind of city. We Athenians are all about having a good time for as much of the time as possible, so we’re often out drinking and dancing until the wee hours of the morning. And then of course it’s time for a pick-me-up from one of the city’s vromiko food trucks – literally “dirty,” but only metaphorically so. In fact, the best of this category is very good indeed. We’ve written previously about a couple of standouts; here are a few more of our late-night favorites.

Athinas is one of our favorite streets in the whole of Athens. Running from Omonia to Monastiraki squares, it has a scruffy, chaotic, disreputable charm that has hardly changed since we moved to Greece more than 40 years ago. From the Omonia side to City Hall and the Central Market, hawkers and peddlers – of everything from sunglasses and “magic” juicers to contraband cigarettes – make the sidewalk an obstacle course for the crowds of shoppers in search of bargains in open storefronts.

In June of this year, a new museum joined the roster of cultural institutions in Athens and is the first dedicated to Greek gastronomy. There may be others where you’ll see ancient cooking pots and serving vessels or rustic farming implements and kitchen equipment from bygone eras, but they’ll only be a small part of a general archaeological or folkloric collection. And how often will eating and drinking be a key part of your experience?

In Athens’ western suburbs, near bustling Bournazi Square, sits Base Grill, a steakhouse where regulars converge from every part of Athens. At their restaurant, twin brothers Spiros and Vangelis Liakos have taken the art of grilling to new heights. Base Grill has the atmosphere of a modern tavern: old posters on the walls, soft colors, nothing extravagant. The space is often packed, so we recommend reserving – especially on weekends.

Editor's note: We're sorry to report that Kelly's Cookbookstore has closed. Thinking we’d find something like New York City’s Kitchen Arts and Letters or London’s Books for Cooks, we paid a visit to Kelly’s Cookbookstore near Omonia Square. Like them, the shop is warm and inviting, its owners encyclopedic sources on all matters culinary. Unlike them, it also doubles as an emporium for select kitchen accessories, chefs’ outfits and especially knives. In fact, displayed on the wall opposite the bookshelves, the knives seemed to outnumber the books, most of which are in Greek.

Editor’s note: We’re sad to report that Aigaion has closed. Loukoumades! In the long, slow afternoons that would follow the enormous Sunday lunches with the full complement of our parents’ friends, all one had to say was that word, and the calm would be broken. Women (and sometimes men) would instantly bustle into the kitchen, haul out large plastic basins and begin the preparation. After what always seemed an interminable wait, plates loaded with golden, deep-fried balls of dough, crispy and drenched in honey, would appear from the kitchen, followed by a yelping array of children.

Like many cultures with a strong national food culture, Athens has been slow to welcome foreign cuisines. First, there were the heady 1990s, when the first luxurious restaurants serving such food opened. That was followed by a decade of discovery, with the first mid-priced sushi and Indian restaurants appearing left, right and center. An enormous influx of immigrants from Pakistan, Bangladesh, Afghanistan and North Africa from the mid-2000s onwards brought pockets of Middle Eastern grocery stores and eateries to downtown Athens, Kypseli and Patisia. Just a few years ago, Athens’ Middle Eastern food scene was divided in two, with various mid-priced to expensive restaurants catering to Greeks and the Kurdish, Syrian, Iraqi and Afghan immigrants making delicious street food for their own communities (and a few adventurous Athenians).