A sweet warmth lies just below the surface of Condesa’s über-cool Angelopolitano. Walking through the front door, we were first struck by the restaurant’s elegant decor, which exists somewhere between hipster chic and business casual. Potted plants sitting beneath framed 19th-century photographs make the space feel more like an art gallery than a place to eat. Such an environment would be off-putting if it weren’t for the staff, who flashed big smiles as we entered and spoke to each other in a familial, teasing tone you’d more expect to hear at a friend’s dinner party than an upscale restaurant.

The Neapolitan pastry landscape is dominated by three sweet treats: sfogliatella, a shell-shaped pastry with a variety of fillings; pastiera, a type of tart flavored with orange flower water and most commonly served at Easter; and babà, a small yeast cake soaked in a liquor syrup. The first two cakes were born and raised in Naples, thanks to the gifted pastry-making skills of the nuns and monks in the Neapolitan convents. But babàs, although considered by many Neapolitans to be homegrown, are not, in fact, an indigenous sweet – our beloved baba was imported from France, where they were invented by a Polish gourmet.

We hear it every time we bring up the V-word: “But it’s impossible to be a vegetarian in Rio!” Nonsense. Not only is it possible to eat an earthy diet here in Rio, it’s getting so trendy that carnivorous cariocas are increasingly forgoing their weekend churrasco (grilled meat on a stick) for the kaleidoscope of couve (collard greens), cogumelos (mushrooms), tofu and all of its soy brethren. While Rio de Janeiro’s vegetarian options are often lunch-only buffet-style joints (and we like those too), we’ve been intrigued by the rise of a few more boutique à la carte places. And we appreciate that Prana Cozinha Vegetariana is one of those that does not come with boutique prices.

When we first discovered this delightful ouzeri in Neo Psychiko last May, we were thrilled to have found a place that specialized in Politiki Kouzina – not the cooking up of politics but the cuisine of Constantinople, often called simply I Poli, or The City, by Greeks even today. Ironically, mutual friends had chosen it to fete a Turkish guest, a visitor from Istanbul, which seemed a culinary version of taking coals to Newcastle. But she pronounced the fare delicious, and smacked her lips over such shared dishes as Imam Baildi, dolmades and bourekakia made with phyllo.

One of the tenets of the Slow Food movement is that it’s impossible to make a really good meal out of industrial food. Of course certain ingredients can pass muster with diners even if they’re grown on an industrial farm. Yet sustainable farming has an obvious impact – it’s not just a matter of better tasting and healthier food but also environmental and societal benefits. In Barcelona, we are surrounded by a large number of independent, sustainable producers that, too often, are completely invisible. They work in nearby provincial areas such as El Prat, El Penedès, El Vallès, El Garraf and El Maresme that give forth a veritable cornucopia of food goods: vegetables, fruits, nuts, legumes, olive oil, cheese, marmalades, cereals, flours, honey, meat, fish, wine, vermut, beer and more. These producers work hard every day to remain independent and adhere to stringent standards of sustainability and quality.

In September of last year, Shanghai eaters were shocked when Mr. Wu shuttered A Da Cong You Bing, the city’s best scallion pancake shop. The only explanation for the abrupt closure was a worn sign on the door that read: “My family has a problem. The stall will be closed for a few days.” But this wasn’t the whole truth. Some attributed the shutdown to the fact that the stall was featured on the BBC program Rick Stein’s Taste of Shanghai, claiming that it had drawn too much attention to the unlicensed vendor and the government had taken note.

First-time visitors to Astek probably step in for the same reason most people convene at a reputable Istanbul meyhane: Good conversation in a cozy setting over a few cold glasses of rakı, together with fresh melon and white cheese, and perhaps a hot appetizer or two once the anise-based spirit has succeeded in seriously stimulating the appetite. And while one is unlikely to be displeased with any of Astek’s fine offerings, the head waiter and manager Mehmet Akkök is the reason why regulars return. Mehmet Bey brings to the table an exuberance and keen sense of professionalism that comes with years of service in the sector he loves.

“Have you been to Bahía, Donald?” José Carioca, a dapper, green-and-gold, happy-go-lucky parrot, poses this question to Donald Duck in the (mostly) animated 1944 film The Three Caballeros. For its beauty and charm — and, oh, the food! — José insists that Bahía (buy-EE-ah), a coastal state in northeastern Brazil, has no rival. It’s a full-throated endorsement, particularly from José: His surname, Carioca, identifies him as a native of Rio de Janeiro. Even for a parrot-about-town who has experienced the beauty of Rio’s beaches and the excitement of its nightlife, Bahía is a magical place. That spirit has been transported to Astoria, Queens, not by magic, but by the devotion of Bahían sisters Elzi and Erli Botelho Ribeiro.

The Slow Food movement may be all about slow living, but its spread around the world has been nothing short of speedy. What began as a protest against the opening of a McDonald’s in the Piazza di Spagna in Rome in 1986 has morphed into an international organization that safeguards some of the most authentic and unique local food products in 160 countries across the world, and even receives UN recognition and support for this important work. In Spain, the Slow Food movement mainly consists of independent regional groups made up of chefs, producers and other food-related professionals, and its influence continues to grow as new initiatives are gradually launched.

Slowly enjoying a coffee under the warm sun with good company or a good book is practically a national pastime in Greece. In fact, Greeks love their coffee so much that owning a coffee shop is considered one of the safest businesses in the country: even when times are tough, who doesn’t want a cup of coffee? Despite (or perhaps because of) Greece’s ongoing economic crisis, the number of quality coffee shops in Athens has mushroomed in recent years, and a rising cadre of professional baristas – a trendy title to hold nowadays – is taking pleasure in sharing their knowledge of coffee making and drinking.

For 2,000 years, people have flocked to the Abanotubani baths, whose hot sulfuric waters have long been fabled to possess magical healing qualities. The Persian king Agha Mohammad Khan soaked there in 1795, hoping to reverse the effects of the castration he suffered as a child. He dried off, found his conditioned unchanged and razed Tbilisi to the ground. While people continue to espouse the curative properties of the sulfur baths, we can only vouch for their powers to relieve stress, loosen up sore muscles and help poach the hangover out of you. It is the latter attribute that inspired the local chef Tekuna Gachechiladze to open a restaurant last year that might not cure erectile disorders, but is definitely designed to nurture alcohol-stricken bodies back to life.

At 2pm on most weekdays, slickly dressed business people stroll Mexico City’s trendy Juarez neighborhood, lending its streets an air of well-heeled, buttoned-up formality. The polished glimmer of their shoes marks them as the nation’s best and brightest, if not among its wealthiest. These are the white collar workers of the nearby Paseo de la Reforma, let out of their office towers for lunch. Many will choose to spend their breaks cradling greasy street tacos, craning their necks as they eat, careful not to stain or otherwise tarnish their smart suits.

The ascendance of Spanish gastronomy has largely had a Basque signature, which, together with the Catalan scene, is seen as the vanguard in Spanish haute cuisine. But while Nouvelle Basque has gotten all the spotlight lately, the food culture of this northern region has always been outstanding, thanks to its abundant rains and a territory that encompasses the Cantabrian Sea and Ebro River. Basque taverns are largely known for their pintxos, a kind of tapas that are more sophisticated in taste as well as in design. At certain times of day these small plates fly nonstop out of the kitchen, usually chosen at the chef’s discretion.

Autumn in Rio finds the city at its the best. The days are sunny, the scorching heat of January and February has subsided, and it's low season for tourists, which means the beaches are less crowded. The only problem with fall days is they end too early—the sun sets by 6:00 pm in April. If you want to keep the day going, one good option is to head to one of the city's many beachside pé sujos (literally, dirty feet), ultra-casual outdoor bars. On a recent April evening we found ourselves at Bar Bunda de Fora (Bar Butt-Out), steps from Copacabana Beach. According to owner Deborah Cardoso, the bar got its nickname because the interior used to be so small that when customers placed their orders at the counter their rear ends were technically outside the bar. It's a classic low-key Rio joint: the beer is light, cheap, and bem gelada (very cold); the stools are made of plastic; and the food is fried. The crowd is young and old, mostly made up of families and neighbors.

His name is Pasquale De Stefano, but everyone knows him as Pasquale ‘o nummararo, “the number man.” In this era of plotters and laser printers, De Stefano continues to hand-paint his signs, using ancient paintbrushes on wooden boards, which are then planted in the baskets of all Neapolitan fruit sellers. And even the wooden signposts are still cut by hand. In 65 years of work he has by now created tens of thousands of signs advertising the prices of apples (€0.99) or peaches (3 kg for €2). They can be small or large, on canvas or on wood, promising a “special offer” or “great value.” Sometimes Pasquale’s signs will feature a more pointed message: “Whoever touches the fruit will be touched by the fruit seller,” is one that comes to mind.