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.

Neapolitan cuisine encompasses such a variety of dishes, ingredients and preparations that sitting down for lunch in Naples is always a feast of smells, tastes, colors and sensations. Menus here are populated by numerous meat dishes and equally many seafood options, and the extraordinary variety of vegetables are complemented by unique dairy products, preserves and sweets steeped in history and quality. Restaurant kitchens know how to be baroque (as demonstrated by menesta maretata, a complex soup that “marries” a variety of vegetables and cuts of meat), sumptuous (as in eggplant parmigiana), or deceptively simple (as in the classic spaghetti aglio e olio, which combines the basic trio of pasta, garlic and oil to great effect).

While in many parts of Europe consumer capitalism has brought an invasion of chain supermarkets and restaurants, contributing to the extinction of independent family-run grocers, Naples and the small distinct districts of its old town have magically managed to resist. The neighborhood markets retain a charm that is reminiscent of a by-gone era when Europe’s streets would smoke and hiss and the ground would be covered in cabbage crusts and fish entrails. The city’s cobbled and narrow streets revolve around civic life, which still brims with stalls selling fresh mollusks, sacks of nuts, knots of garlic and onions, rounds of cheese and hanging hams.

Mexico City can be quite lacking when it comes to finding fresh, tasty seafood. At most markets in the city, in addition to the taco places and tlacoyo vendors, there is usually some kind of stand selling seafood, but the quality can be either very good or very bad. Buying from the right place is thus essential, and that’s why we were so happy to discover La Morenita, a standout seafood and oyster restaurant in Colonia Roma’s Mercado Medellín. Established more than three decades ago by Miguel Gardono, La Morenita has become a busy, reliable stop for shoppers.

Jambú-infused cachaça is bitter and a bit grassy, and newcomers to the drink often grimace at first taste. But seconds later something happens: the liquor's harshness gives way to a gentle tingling, then numbness, first on the tip of the tongue, then to the lips and the back of the throat. Next, the mouth salivates, pulses, and other foods and drinks take on new flavors: a cheap beer suddenly tastes like champagne. The second quaff is often taken much more eagerly than the first. Jambú, or acmella oleracea, is a flowering herb found throughout the Amazon and other warm, humid climates.

The Michelin Guide might have come to Shanghai last year, but the far more interesting trend for budget diners in the city is the fast-casual local restaurants opened by savvy young Chinese with an eye for design and a great palate. The Noodlista is one such shop – just check out its logo. The character for noodles is warped into a downward facing arrow, as if to say, “Get your noodles here!” It’s good advice, and local millennials are taking it: come lunchtime, Noodlista is always packed to the gills with young worker bees from nearby office towers. Showcasing the management’s fluency with both Eastern and Western cultures, English and Chinese coexist happily on the menu.

It’s difficult to imagine a job where a major skill set is eating a vast amount of food and becoming as large as possible. Yet sumo wrestlers, in an effort to bulk up and to be able to throw their weight around in the ring, consume enormous amounts of protein-rich, calorie-heavy meals – primarily in a dish called chanko nabe (a one-dish hotpot) – hoping to do just that. At Chanko Dojo, diners are encouraged to fill up as much as possible as they soak up sumo culture. (For another eatery devoted to wrestling, read our review of this Mexico City spot.)

Cariocas don’t give much love to Niterói, joking that the only reason to go to this city across Guanabara Bay is for its spectacular view of Rio de Janeiro. But while less busy and far less popular than Rio, Niterói is full of lovely beaches, great museums, excellent restaurants and hundreds of bars. Among the many reasons to visit is Salve Simpatia, a botequim – or small, family-run bar serving snacks to go with drinks – where traditional bar gastronomy mixes perfectly with delicious artisanal burgers, specialty beers and remarkably good music, especially samba. Salve Simpatia (which means something like “Hello, my brother” in Portuguese) opened in 2012 and was known only to locals in the Icaraí area for a while.

Jordi Piquer opened his popular restaurant in 1968 on an auspicious day: April 23, a holiday that honors his namesake saint. Saint Jordi must have been looking down on Piquer and his dedicated customers when the restaurateur decided to sell his establishment in 1986: three trusted employees banded together to buy it, keeping the Sant Gervasi neighborhood institution in business. A fine example of a classic 20th-century Barcelona restaurant, Casa Jordi is decorated in the old masía (traditional Catalan farmhouse) style over two floors but adapted to urban dimensions, meaning that there are fewer intimate corners but larger, more flexible rooms with tables for groups.

Inside the humble municipal market building of an elderly neighborhood between Belém’s touristic spectacles and the sprawling Monsanto park is the oldest Azorean restaurant in the Portuguese capital. In non-descript Ajuda, with a view over Ponte Abril 25, this place transports Lisboetas with tastes of the remote and alluring Atlantic archipelago. When Espaço Açores opened 10 years ago it was one of four restaurants in Lisbon serving the food of the Azores. The others have since closed, a fact that at first seems difficult to understand: food from these islands is incredibly good and more often than not reproduces traditional dishes from the mainland, albeit with considerably better ingredients.

Koukaki, in central Athens, is one of those neighborhoods that in the past few years has seen a great deal of development, despite Greece’s economic recession. Conveniently located near the Acropolis Museum, the new Contemporary Art Museum and Panteion University, this once-quiet residential district has become the talk of the town among food lovers and night owls. Modern and traditional eateries, cafeterias, bars and bakeries keep popping up, and as competition gets tougher, the quality gets better and prices get all the more attractive. (A rising tide, as they say.) Fabrika tou Efrosinou opened its doors almost two years ago.

Located in the Atlantic at the same latitude as Casablanca, Madeira may be a small island, but there’s so much to see that it takes three to five days to get a real sense of it. An hour and a half by plane from Lisbon, the capital and largest city is Funchal, a historic town whose claim to fame is a more recent one: it’s where soccer star Cristiano Ronaldo was born (a statue and a museum in his honor can both be found here). Historically one of the first settlements of the golden age of Portuguese exploration, the island became an outpost for trade and ships going to Brazil or India.

The dog is in the car whining with a lusty craze at every cat and dog she sees. It’s shedding season and tufts of her hair puff off at every lurch and bounce in the back seat, the window smeared with her nose art. We park at the top of the street and walk down to school to pick up her six-year-old master, who grumbles that she’s hungry, starving even, and asks if we can go to “that bar.” The fridge is empty at home and “that bar” – the Black Dog – stands between us and the car. It is an excellent suggestion. The Tbilisi bar scene is a recent phenomenon in the scope of what is by tradition an intense dining culture.

It’s an unseasonably warm winter day as we make our way through the residential backstreets of Higashi-Shinjuku. Drying laundry hangs on nearly every balcony of the low-rise apartments beneath a cloudless, blue sky. The streets are nearly empty, but rounding the final corner to our destination we join a stream of people from all four points of the compass congregating in front of the Tokyo branch of Nagoya-based maze-soba shop Hanabi. The story of how this particular noodle dish came to be is a winding one. In the 1970s, the Taiwanese chef Meiyū Kaku was living in Nagoya and missed a few choice flavors from home.

One feels cooler simply for patronizing La Secina. The architecture of the restaurant seems to evoke a perpetual party vibe. At dinner, individual lights dangle on long lines amid a mesh of vines that gives the cavernous space a homey, DIY feel. The teal and orange on the wall are bright and clean. The stenciled restaurant logo and exhortations of “bienvenidos” feel as organic as they do well designed. Downstairs, picnic tables radiate outwards from a long, inviting bar. Upstairs a dedicated booze closet services a patio that looks out upon a beautiful church across the street. And on weekends, live blues bands play everything from Albert Collins to Muddy Waters to Robert Johnson.