Naples is a city strewn with street vendors. Bread, thin pizzas meant to be eaten folded, fried pizzas, octopus broth, roasted artichokes, cones full of fried goodies, donuts, panzerotti and rice balls – there’s little you can’t find one of Naples’ vendors selling. Together, these numerous street sellers and their small stands play an important economic and cultural role in the city. In the midst of all these vendors there’s one that somehow manages to stand out. Some know him simply as Carmine. Others call him Carmine the Wizard because of his enchanting roasted chestnuts, which warm the hands and the stomachs of Neapolitans in winter. Whatever you call him, he’s an icon of Naples street food.

Until 1960, there were many more Portuguese people living in Mozambique than vice versa. Around 80,000 of them were settled there, many because of the Salazar regime’s encouragement of citizens to migrate to its southeast African colony as part of a poverty-reduction program for Lisbon. The first wave of migration from Mozambique to Portugal took place prior to the 1974 Lusaka Accord, the precursor to Mozambican independence, although the details are patchy. A second wave occurred during the violent 1977-1992 Mozambican Civil War, in which a million people died and 5 million more displaced. This already massive crisis was exacerbated by floods in the 1970s and droughts in the 1980s.

Quick Bite: On this half-day introduction to Corona’s culinary essentials, we hit the streets on a Saturday, when the griddles and grills in this already lively neighborhood are working overtime and the street vendors come out in full force. To many, the Corona neighborhood of Queens is something of a mystery, a place you only pass over on the elevated tracks of the 7 train as it hurtles towards a Mets game or the restaurants and food courts of Flushing.

A three-floor cultural association in Rato, the neighborhood just north of sleek Principe Real, Casa de Angola has for decades focused primarily on bridging Angolan and Portuguese cultures. Created in 1971 by Angolan students, it launched without state support and is still subject to some intrigue. “Some say that this was an Angolan masonry house because of some indicative symbols on the building,” says chef Paulo Soares, who moved to Lisbon in 1981.

Mexico City may be a sprawling metropolis of 21 million, but on its edge is an oasis of green unlike any other in the world. Known as Xochimilco, it is the last part of the city that preserves an ancient system of canals and farms first built by the Aztecs when the area was on the edge of a long-gone lake.

On a narrow and, until recently, slightly forgotten street in Lisbon’s city center, a simple Cape Verdean eatery is holding its own. As one of the few tascas serving up African dishes in this part of town, Tambarina, with its dozen tables and keyboard and mics set up in the corner, bears testimony to this urban quarter’s historical connections to the people of Africa’s northwestern archipelago.

Cape Verdeans, particularly those from the island of Santiago, form one of the biggest migrant communities in Portugal. Because of the cyclical drought that afflicts the 10 volcanic islands making up this archipelago, the country’s sense of homeland coexists with the idea of movement, with Cape Verde recognized by many as an essentially diasporic nation.

The largest of New York’s five boroughs, Queens is the home of over two million people, half of them born outside the United States, speaking more than 140 different languages. It’s perhaps the only place on the face of the planet where Tagalog bumps up hard against Romanian.

Join our food tour in Naples to taste the city’s best bites, from the local pastry, sfogliatella, to iconic street foods, in the old market streets.

The ill anti-immigrant and -refugee wind blowing out of the White House in Washington, DC, does not represent the America we know, nor does it speak to our experience exploring the world’s culinary backstreets. The cities and countries where we work – the United States included – have always been havens for those looking for a better, safer place. All have come with their food, making their new home a truly better place for us all and becoming an indispensible part of its fabric in the process. When the government goes low, we go in search of more stories of immigrants and refugees who have left a culinary mark on their adopted land and whose tales have always been essential elements in what we do here at CB. In their honor, this week we are running some of our favorites of these kinds of stories from the CB archive (like that of Mr. Tomasian, pictured above, an Armenian kebab maker in Athens).

(Editor's Note: The ill anti-immigrant and -refugee wind blowing out of the White House in Washington, DC, does not represent the America we know, nor does it speak to our experience exploring the world’s culinary backstreets. The cities and countries where we work – the United States included – have always been havens for those looking for a better, safer place. All have come with their food, making their new home a truly better place for us all and becoming an indispensible part of its fabric in the process. In their honor, this week we are running some of our favorite archived stories of immigrants and refugees who have left a culinary mark on their adopted land.) If you walk the length of Roosevelt Avenue from 69th Street to 111th Street in the early morning, you may encounter up to two dozen tamale ladies, usually at the major intersections that correspond to the 7 train’s stops.

The oldest city in Western Europe, once the hub of a trading empire that connected Macau in the east to Rio de Janeiro in the west, Lisbon today feels staunchly Old World European, a sleepy town of nostalgic storefronts and scenic churches. But that’s only its façade.

Beyond the bustling districts of the centro, Lisbon’s port and the old neighborhoods clustered around it have always had a close connection with the waterfront and its industries, especially fishing. The city’s iconic varinas, itinerant fish vendors, lived and worked on the streets here until quite recently, selling their goods from a basket hoisted on their heads.

The oldest city in Western Europe, once the hub of a trading empire that connected Macau in the east to Rio de Janeiro in the west, Lisbon today feels staunchly Old World European, a sleepy town of nostalgic storefronts and scenic churches. But that’s only its façade.

Join our small group Wine Club meetings to get to know independent winemakers, taste their wine and eat delicious snacks in a comfortable and safe social atmosphere.