The Holy Week in Greece is full of scents and flavors. Ovens work overtime baking brioches (tsourekia), Easter biscuits and melitinia, diminutive sweets that originate from Santorini. Traditionally, melitinia are made by women and girls on Holy Tuesday to be eaten on the evening of the Resurrection and the coming days of Easter (Orthodox Easter falls on April 12 this year).

Between the modernist Burle Marx promenade lining the Copacabana beach and the Brazilian penchant for striving to be the country of the future, it’s easy to forget that Rio is rich with history. The centuries have seen the waxing and waning of an empire.

Ènek poured a rosy-colored splash of wine into our glasses, avidly explaining how this particular Aladasturi grape vine was meticulously cultivated in its native west Georgia. In a tasting ritual uncommon in Georgia, we swirled it, sniffed it and savored the flavor as it caressed our tongues. Here in the “cradle of wine,” the land where viticulture is believed to have originated 8,000 years ago, wine is customarily poured into a water glass and “tasted” in one long drag, until drained. But in this cozy cellar in the heart of Tbilisi’s historic Sololaki neighborhood, seven winemakers have come together to offer an alternative convention to winemaking and consumption. They call it Vino Underground, but we call it wine heaven.

The city of Edirne sits on the borders of Bulgaria and Greece in the far northwestern and European portion of Turkey. Once the capital of the Ottoman Empire, Edirne has been occupied for thousands of years, dating back to the Romans and Thracians before them. While no longer the seat of an empire, Edirne could still be considered a culinary capital for tava ciğer, or fried liver. Two things are constant companions to travelers venturing into Edirne: glistening portraits of famous oiled-up wrestlers (a big annual contest is held nearby) and innumerable small restaurant fronts featuring a vat of boiling sunflower oil. The aroma of meat cooking in these vats is distinctive and primal, instantly activating salivary glands or rumbling stomachs.

Editor's Note: This spot is sadly no longer open. Once upon a time, there was a fishmonger. Every morning, he would wake up very early and go to the fish market, buy lots of fish and sell it at his stand in the open-air market near his home.

It was in 2007, when, on a hunger-induced whim, we called a friend and asked him to meet us for lunch at a new place that had been beckoning from a Rustaveli Boulevard side street for some weeks. Tbilisi’s main drag was bereft of quality, low-priced eats, and the down-home warmth wafting down the street offered the promise of good fortune. This was before the homey little joint was known, a time when our party of two could occupy the eight-top under the window instead of the surrounding cozy, semi-enclosed booths.

It is one of the most uttered phrases by gringos here: “Rio is a paradise, but I really miss ______ food.” That blank may be filled by “Korean,” “Ethiopian” or “real Mexican.” Very often, the object of the foreigner’s wander-gastro-lust is Indian.

The Yaveş Gari Bodrum chapter of the international Slow Food movement organized the first Slow Cheese Festival of Turkey, which took place March 5 to 8 this year. We were lucky enough to experience it for ourselves. Local food cultures and small-scale food producers everywhere are at risk of disappearing due to the market economy and industrialized food production, and Slow Food’s various initiatives aim to help them survive and to educate the public about their cultural and gastronomic value. Dairy products in particular are under threat from immense regulation, which decreases diversity and imposes an often insupportable financial burden on small producers. Moreover, as Slow Food says, “It is not simply a question of the best milk and cheeses – our food culture and the freedom to choose what we eat are at stake.”

In recent years, downtown Mexico City’s once grimy Centro Histórico has undergone a remarkable transformation. The government and private enterprises have invested in new infrastructure, pedestrian walkways, parks, hotels and high-end apartment buildings that give the area the look and feel of a district that is part of a modern, dynamic capital city.

In the windy coastal region south of Barcelona, surrounded by the wide vineyards of Baix Penedès, entire families are decked out in winter gear and ready to eat … some salad! In the late 19th century, the word xató (pronounced “sha-TOH”) first appeared in writing in the Catalan press. Just as the name for the dish paella is borrowed from the name of the pan that is used to prepare it, xató originally referred to a sauce, but is now the name for a specific salad preparation. Practically unavoidable in the towns of Baix Penedès, Alt Penedès and Garraf (sub-regions that lie between the provinces of Barcelona and Tarragona), xató is surprisingly rare on restaurant menus in Barcelona proper, just under an hour away.

The word mole comes from the Nahuatl molli, which means “mixture,” and is used to refer to a number of sauces prepared all over Mexico. There’s some controversy as to which spot is the birthplace of mole (Puebla, Tlaxcala and Oaxaca all claim the prize) and when exactly these sauces were created. What we do know about mole sauces, however, is that they are the perfect culinary example of the mestizaje that took place in Mexico after the arrival of the Spanish conquistadores. They combine native ingredients such as chilies, fruits and seeds with elements brought by the newcomers, including nuts, exotic fruits and even bread.

Editor’s note: We regret to report that Charmant has closed. We’ve mentioned Charmant before on Culinary Backstreets, giving it a nod for its night-owl dining opportunities (it closes at 2 a.m.). But this restaurant tastes good all day long and has something going for it that few Shanghai restaurants have: consistency. After more than seven years of loyal patronage (not to mention the restaurant's 11 years of operation since opening in 2004) and Charmant’s split from its parent company, which runs the equally successful Taiwanese chain called Bellagio, we have yet to notice a slip in quality.

Pere Valls Isart is passionate about his restaurant, Bilbao, which his family bought, with the name already in place, in 1954. “This is the thing that I most love in the world,” he told us. “This is my life!” Bilbao is an old-school neighborhood restaurant of the first degree, with two comfortable rooms appointed with mismatched vintage – yet impeccably maintained – marble tables, colorful paintings, photos, drawings and infinite memories.

Over the last few years, as a growing number of Syrians fleeing the violence in their homeland have made their way to Istanbul, the Aksaray district has swiftly turned into the city's "Little Syria," filled with shops and restaurants catering to this new Syrian diaspora. CB photographer Ipek Baltutan recently spent a day walking around the area, capturing some of the flavor of this newly formed enclave.