When longtime locals discuss contenders for “best all-around po’boy shop in all of New Orleans,” R&O’s is usually an integral part of the conversation. Fans of the stalwart seafood house located a literal stone’s throw from Lake Pontchartrain will wax poetic about a wide variety of the menu’s delectable standouts – Italian salads studded with tangy chopped giardiniera, oversized stuffed artichokes, seasonal boiled seafoods – before they even start talking po’boys. However, once the conversation turns to the city’s signature long-sandwich, the accolades come in fast and strong. Want a classic shrimp, oyster or soft-shell crab po’boy? They’ll arrive overstuffed, crunchy and fried to juicy perfection.

For a dish so ubiquitous, one would be forgiven to think there’s little to debate about Georgia’s national dumpling, the khinkali. But just as tastes vary, every Georgian has their own khinkali preferences and opinions. That’s certainly the case for chef Gela Arabuli, who believes khinkali has been gentrified and mass produced to a point where most people have forgotten the dumplings’ origins in the mountains and how they should really taste. “Real khinkali is from the high mountains. And there are no pigs in the mountains,” insists Gela, referring to the most popular and common filling of minced beef and pork in equal parts as kalakuri, or “city style,” khinkali.

On a neighborhood back street, hemmed in by cars on both sides, sits a house-turned-secret dance club, a girl selling Maruchan soup-in-a-cup under a pop-up tent, and La Chubechada – a tiny storefront with a cutout window just big enough for Maria Guadalupe to poke her head out and take your order. When your drink comes up and she hollers out your name, you better be quick on your feet to go pick it up. For tourists venturing out of the center of Mexico City, La Chubechada feels far from the trendy spotlight and more than a little intimidating, but upon arrival the place hums with a neighborhood vibe – kids hanging out and getting tipsy on the sidewalk with their friends, locals stopping by to say hello.

The acclaimed Italian director Federico Fellini once said that “life is a combination of magic and pasta.” We’d argue that magic is, in fact, a combination of pasta and eggs. Now, you’re probably thinking about carbonara, the ultra-famous Roman recipe based on eggs, bacon and cheese, whose uncertain origins are often ascribed to the interaction between locals and US soldiers during World War II. In Naples, however, this combination of ingredients – which come to together in the local favorite frittata di maccheroni – has different, and more ancient, beginnings. A must-have at picnics and informal luncheons, a favorite for summer meals at the beach and a cherished memory from school trips, the frittata is a staple of domestic Neapolitan cuisine.

The buriti, which grows in wet riversides and swamps, is among the most splendid of South American palms. This tree has special significance in Brazil: it is even an unsuspecting main character in the Brazilian epic novel The Devil to Pay in The Backlands, written by João Guimarães Rosa. For the Guaraní, an indigenous group of the southwest of the country, the buriti palm is a generous being from which each element can be used: fruit, bark, leaves, oil – it’s why its name means “Tree of Life.” Now, a new Buriti has flourished in Barcelona, just a stone’s throw from the shore in the beachside Poble Nou neighborhood. A Brazilian restaurant full of nostalgic flavors prepared with great skill and served in portions to share tapas-style, but with an authentic Brazilian taste.

Summer in Provençe ushers in a multitude of promises. In Marseille, it means waking to the song of the cicadas, day trips by boat to le Frioul to cool off in the sea and the afternoon rendezvous with friends for an apéro of pastis or rosé on ice. Saturdays bring the bliss of wandering through the markets in search for the perfect melon from Cavaillon, the ciflorette strawberries from Carpentras, or the succulent coeur de boeuf tomato. Perhaps the one market item that signifies the Provençal summer more than anything else is the fleur de courgette (zucchini flower). When this lovely little flower appears, we know it is officially summertime in the South.

Although there are plenty of bars on Copacabana’s famous Avenida Atlântica – or even at the beach, at the so called quiosques – very few are worth a visit. Many are just tourist traps. Others are much too expensive. No, the really good bars in Copacabana are inland, along Barata Ribeiro street. That road, along with some of the side streets that let onto it, reveals the true face of Copacabana's popular gastronomy. One of the first bars you encounter on Barata Ribeiro is Galeto Sat's. Open seven days a week, always until 5 a.m., the bar is a bohemian temple – but it’s far from being only that. For many cariocas, Sat's serves the best galeto in town. A galeto is a very young chicken (no more than three months old) cooked over a big coal-fired grill.

Stumbling upon a haggis toastie store in the middle of Tokyo sounds like a half-remembered dream where nothing quite makes sense. It was the minimalist black store front with white type that had initially drawn us to it. It looked like a store straight out of London, and certainly not like a café that one would expect to find next to Japan’s Olympic stadium. Its menu dripped with promise: toasties (toasted sandwiches) stuffed with glorious cheese. And real bread, granary bread, something we’d never spied before in Japan. Loaves of it were stacked in rows above the counter, and a griddle sat to one side, where butter-slathered slices, jammed packed with fillings, were being flattened into crispy parcels.

Upon entering Al Fresco in the Ballarò neighborhood, we are struck by both the kind welcome and the special location – the restaurant is set in a garden enclosed within the walls of Casa San Francesco, a former seventeenth-century convent, lit by strings of lights dangling between plants and saplings. There is an immediate sense of openness, freedom and freshness. This is no coincidence: while “al fresco” in Italian can refer to the chill of being out in the open air, it is also an expression used to mean “life in prison.” The double meaning makes sense in this case – despite its first impression as a regular eatery, perhaps the most special feature of Al Fresco is that working in the kitchen and in the dining room are former inmates who have joined the team following their release from prison.

The Galleria Principe di Napoli’s beautiful arcades and art-deco ceiling made of iron and glass – built in the second half of the 19th century at the site of an ancient grain storehouse – stood silent for long time. Once a buzzing commercial and cultural hub in the heart of the city, with two of its three wings connecting the National Archaeological Museum to the Academy of Fine Arts, the Galleria was confiscated during the Fascist era and used to project propaganda films, shutting down its shops and venues. In the eighties, it was used for public offices for a time before it was left abandoned. Recently, though, the space has been brought to life, thanks to a call for bids and a handful of businesses that took on the challenge, such as a bike shop, a B&B and the lovely Lazzarelle Bistrot, among others.

At lunchtime, a line starts to form in front of Lu’s Garden in San Gabriel. Right in front of the entrance is a narrow walkway and a long counter with a line of buffet trays filled with braised pork, lap cheong (a type of dried, sweetened Chinese sausage) and more. Stacked behind them are bowls filled with more dishes like sautéed string beans and bok choy. The kitchen staff can be seen replenishing the various buffet trays seemingly every five to ten minutes, keeping them full as hungry patrons file through. Both dine-in and takeout customers choose their dishes based on what’s at the counter – there are more than enough options, as Lu’s Garden generally has fifty different dishes at a time.

Each year in late summer, some of the best athletes on the planet converge on Flushing Meadows Corona Park to compete in the United States Open Tennis Championships. In 2025, the U.S. Open begins with practice sessions and qualifier matches on Monday, August 18, and concludes with the men’s singles final, scheduled for Sunday, September 7. The tournament site does provide hungry fans with several cafés and casual bar-restaurants as well as a “food village.” But when in Queens – where some of the best food in the city is so close at hand – why would we confine ourselves to the boundaries of the tennis center? To energize ourselves beforehand or wind down afterward, here are a few of our favorite nearby dining destinations.

It doesn’t matter how early you show up to the Black Salami Microbakery – there’s always a line. Even right at 9 a.m., when the gates have just been pulled up, tourists and locals alike are waiting for fresh, flaky sandwiches and crusty loaves of bread. Clean, sleek, and cool, with funky marbled counters like a refrigerator mosaic cake, the bakery floods with light on sunny days, illuminating a display case filled with breakfast and lunch options. This is one of a number of new spots that have popped up in the Exarchia neighborhood recently. It’s also part of a transformation the neighborhood has been seeing for some time now – one that has accelerated in the past year, as the city’s newest metro line raises questions about the pros and cons of opening a major transit station in the main square.

Oaxaca City has a mysterious hour, a period of the day when time is suspended. As we walk through a hot day of Oaxaca’s eternal summer, the sun is at its zenith and the mind starts slowing down. The streets feel emptier and quieter than ever, though the soundly closed doors hide lively households of buzzing fans and cool adobe walls. When we need respite from the heat, we remember that, just around the corner, salvation awaits at Mezcalite Pop, a lush paleta (popsicle) and ice cream shop that since 2017 has been an oasis in the middle of the green quarry stone desert of Oaxaca’s historic center, always surprising us with its bold, fresh creations.

When we meet Mr. Giovanni Scalici, owner of the gelato shop La Delizia, he explains the formula for his success in one word: "Simplicity." We are in Sferracavallo, a seaside suburb of Palermo located between the mountains and a beautiful gulf. Here the coast is filled with dozens of seafood restaurants, but if you venture slightly off the promenade you will find this gem of a gelateria on Via Dammuso.