Foreigners tend to see Rio as stretching from the Christ statue to the beachside neighborhoods, from Copacabana to São Conrado; the rest of the city just provides passage to the Atlantic. That’s a shame. Neighborhoods like Jacarepaguá, Madureira and Bangu have vibrant lives moving at a breathless pace and more intriguing locales than the typical postcard views of the city.

Perhaps nothing epitomizes Rio de Janeiro’s hedonistic approach to cuisine more than a popular deep-fried finger food: the pastel. A bite into one of these fresh, crispy stuffed dough pockets – which range from a palm-sized crescent moon to a rectangle as big as a dinner plate – releases a blow of hot steam that envelops the diner’s face in an aromatic cloud carrying the fragrance of the decadent fillings inside.

Dear Culinary Backstreets, I hear that prices in Rio are Olympic-sized. How can I eat the best the city has to offer, without spending an arm and a leg? It’s true that prices in Rio aren’t what they used to be. As a recent New York Times article notes, Brazilians pay extremely high prices (particularly relative to wages) for just about everything from food to automobiles, due to both high inflation and a tax system that’s skewed in favor of consumption taxes. The high prices hurt both consumers and businesses. As NPR reported, one Italian restaurant in Sao Paulo recently went as far as taking tomatoes off its menu because the cost had shot up so much. Meanwhile, an influx of money – from the construction boom ahead of the upcoming 2014 World Cup and 2016 Summer Olympics and from the growing oil and gas sector developing off Rio’s coast – is driving up prices even further. Indeed, what’s most surprising about Rio’s priciest locales is how oversized the lines to get into them are.

Editor's Note: Sadly, this spot is now closed. Rio’s Mercado São José looks all but abandoned during the day. The windowless white building with blue trim hosts a small fruit vendor and a thrift shop during work hours. A band practices capoeira – Brazilian martial arts – occasionally on the weekends. But the market bursts with chatter and merrymaking in the evening, thanks in large part to boyish chef Bruno Magalhães and his inventive bar and restaurant, Botero.

When Brazilians take to the streets and block traffic, scoff at law enforcement, set off fireworks and relieve themselves in city corners that have already seen a little too much relief, I usually assume it’s Carnaval and happily join in. But the demonstrations that have brought hundreds of thousands to the streets in recent weeks are decidedly un-carnivalesque. They are a deeply serious cry of frustration from Brazilians who, after decades of remaining quiet, are protesting the yawning gap between the success story the nation sells to outsiders and the basic needs of locals that are still far from being met.

Dear Culinary Backstreets, What is the situation in Rio de Janeiro these days in terms of personal safety? Is it dangerous for foreigners, or can we explore the city beyond the beachside Ipanema hotels? Rio de Janeiro is a city with two very divergent reputations. On the one hand, gringos know the city through ultraviolent films like City of God and seemingly endless news stories on shootouts between drug traffickers and police in the city’s makeshift favelas. On the other hand, it’s a seaside Carnival paradise as carefree as Carmen Miranda, swarming with deep-pocketed offshore oil workers and booming with new hotel and infrastructure construction leading up to the 2014 World Cup and 2016 Summer Olympics. What gives?

To call someone a cachaceiro in Brazil is to deal a pretty low Portuguese blow. The word translates roughly to “drunkard” and evokes the image of an unkempt alcoholic clutching a plastic bottle of the powerful local liquor known as cachaça. It’s no coincidence that the name of the drink made with cachaça, the caipirinha, comes from the word caipira, roughly meaning “redneck” or “country.” That the national spirit is invoked in insults is emblematic of the poor image the drink has long had, but which has recently been changing. Like the newly assertive Brazil, the sugarcane-based alcohol is finding its way into chic circles where it was once seen as a bit cheap and rustic. In the past, a posh dinner host in Brazil would offer her guests a uisque (whiskey) or imported wine. But these days, it seems cariocas are finally embracing the truth: the caipirinha is a profoundly refreshing godsend on a steamy Rio summer night. A thriving cachaceiro scene is now budding both in Brazil and among a growing fan base abroad.