For the average visitor to Athens, the culinary scene remains captive to a number of clichés. The cobblestone streets of Plaka are still lined with tavernas and restaurants ready to cater to a rather outdated and make-believe idea of Greek eating: drinking retsina and eating moussaka under the moonlit Parthenon with the occasional bouzouki playing in the background, or going for souvlaki (the most famous Greek street food) near Monastiraki Square among a throng of tourists. These experiences are, unfortunately, still the norm for the majority of travelers to Athens.

Twenty years ago, lilong, the tiny alleyways and courtyard houses that make up the backstreets of Shanghai, were packed with tiny mom-and-pop restaurants serving longtang cai, alleyway cuisine, to office workers and neighboring residents. But as the city’s construction boom demolished many of these lanes, the longtang dishes went back into grandmothers’ kitchens, only available to those who were heading home for lunch.

For Turks, mealtime is often a complicated emotional drama, one that revolves around a lifelong effort to return to the culinary womb – in other words, Mother’s kitchen. In Turkey, Mom’s cooking sets the standard by which all others are judged and, truth be told, some of the finest meals we’ve had here have been home-cooked ones.

You know you’ve picked a good spot to eat when you give the taxi driver the address and he knows exactly what you’re up to. “The place to eat crayfish!” he’s likely to say enthusiastically.

It all started about six years ago, when Cretan cuisine – food from Crete, one of Greece’s largest and most famous islands – became fashionable in Athens. Suddenly, Cretan restaurants started popping up all around the city.

Boat-spotting on the Bosphorus is a favorite pastime for those lucky enough to have windows with the right view. On any given weekend afternoon on the busy straits that divide this city, the ship and boat traffic unfolds like a caravan of the flags of the lesser-known countries of the world.

To Triantafilo tis Nostimias restaurant would be impossible to find if someone didn’t tell you it was there. Although just a five-minute walk from busy Syntagma Square, it is hidden in an arcade on the rather unappealing Lekka Street. Despite the central location, the downtown Athens standout remains largely unknown and is not even included in most Athenian food guides. You truly have to be a local to come here.

Sometimes a word in Chinese so perfectly captures a mood or feeling that the English approximation seems woefully inadequate. To take one example, the Chinese combine “hot” (热) and “noise” (闹) to describe the loud and lively nature of local hotspots, but in English, the best we can do is “bustling.” To experience what China’s “hot noise” is really all about, head to Wei Xiang Zhai. Not for the claustrophobic or timid, this wildly popular noodle house demands that you elbow your way to a table for your chance to slurp down a bowl of the city’s best sesame paste noodles (麻酱面, májiàng miàn). Don’t be intimidated by the Chinese-only menu here. It may look long and complicated, but over the years, the character for “sold out” (无) has become a permanent menu fixture, collecting dust and reminding diners that once, long ago, there were other options here.

In many parts of the world, sweet red vermouth is assigned a supporting role on the liquor shelf, a neglected bit player occasionally dusted off to sing a tune or two. In Barcelona, however, the aperitif has played a starring role for ages, so much so that some places even serve the stuff on tap. That’s right. Vermouth. On tap.