As the highway speeds out of Lisbon northward, the pastel apartment blocks of greater Lisbon’s northern sprawl give way to plots of farmland. It’s a road with no distinction, one not unlike countless others leaving cities elsewhere. Around 80 kilometers from Lisbon, the highway passes into the region of Oeste; although not readily apparent, Oeste is a place of great distinction. That becomes clearer a bit farther down the road, where on the side of a warehouse the words “Rocha Mundial” are printed beside the giant likeness of the region’s claim to fame, a green pear with light brown spots.

In a city like Naples, where almost every kind of street food – or food in general – seems to be carb-and-calorie laden, there's one unexpectedly light, all-protein option: ’o per’ e ’o muss’. This tongue-twister dish has roots in the same food traditions common to many Italian regions: back in the 18th century, the needy would save scrap pieces of meat discarded from the nobles (until they, too, realized how good they could be), to make tasty and nutritious recipes out of them.

Beyond the bustle of touristy central Venice is a series of small islands dotting the Venetian lagoon. This is where Venice’s wine is made, vegetables are grown, fish is caught and bread is baked.

Tbilisi’s Lilo district is the place to go to find just about anything at a more affordable price; it's not only the largest market in the city but also in the entire country of Georgia. However, the downside is its location, situated about 12 miles away from the city center. A few months ago, a friend recommended that we explore a Thai restaurant located in a village close to the market. Although he hadn't tried it himself, it was said to be well worth the trip. He pointed out the spot on Google Maps, which goes by the name “Thai Restaurant Cooking Home and Farm Vegetable.”

Editor's note: Our recurring feature, Building Blocks, focuses on foods and ingredients that are fundamental to the cuisines we write about. This may come as a surprise, but little Greece is Europe’s fourth most important honey producer after Spain, Germany and Hungary. Every year, between 12,000 and 17,000 tons of this liquid gold are stolen from the country’s roughly 1.5 million hives and poured into jars to satisfy the local desire for honey. And it seems Greeks can’t get enough of it. They rank high among the world’s consumers, slurping up 1.7 kg per person every year as they use it to sweeten tea, drizzle over yogurt, slather on toast and soak baklava and other desserts. By contrast, the average American ingests a mere 400 grams.

In a tangerine orchard in Mızraklı, one of the many mountainous villages in Turkey's southern Hatay province, Yeliz Yoğun sat next to a burn pit rolling yufka – Turkish flatbreads – for her mother, Sabah, to bake. On this summer morning, the temperature was already high while standing under the trees, away from the fire, and the sun was not at its highest yet. Sabah was sitting next to the flame but was determined to finish all the dough they had prepared since the first light of the day. An NGO called Dünya Evimiz (“The World Is Our Home”), provides Yeliz and Sabah with donated flour as part of a program to distribute free yufka or tandır bread baked by women to people living in tent camps around Hatay.

Walking among the stalls of Mercado Coyoacán is as exhilarating as it is slightly overwhelming: mountains of fresh fruit, rows of piñatas hanging from the ceiling, chocolate-covered scorpions, and mystical candles that promise to bring love and fortune all coexist in this sprawling space. The familiar phrase, “¿Qué va a llevar?” (What are you buying?) echoes down each aisle, but as tempting as it is to bite into a creamy slice of mamey – a sweet, orange-fleshed fruit that has plenty of fans in Mexico – we are here with one mission: to eat our weight in tostadas. The market is in the heart of Coyoacán, one of Mexico City’s most whimsical neighborhoods. With cobblestone streets, coffee shops, art galleries, and boutiques, it’s especially popular for weekend visits.

To find the entrance to the Attari Sandwich Shop, you need to listen for the sounds of a bubbling fountain and the chatter of groups of people dining. While the official address is on Westwood Boulevard, the entrance is actually around the corner on a side street due to a remodel of the building. There’s a sandwich board sign aiming you in the right direction, but it tends to be blocked by parked cars, so it’s important to keep ears and eyes open. When you do find it, you will walk through a patinaed gate into a small, inviting courtyard area with the water feature in the center and the smells of food being grilled wafting through the space.

The hordes of pizza lovers who descend on Naples usually head for Via dei Tribunali in the city’s historical center, famed for its parade of pizzerias. If they arrive by train, they will exit the central station, go straight through Piazza Garibaldi and head right for the Centro Storico, where the guidebooks they carry always (erroneously) say they will find the best pizzerias. Locals in the know, meanwhile, head ten minutes in the opposite direction, towards an area that has less foot traffic and appeal for tourists, but that is home to Carmnella – truly one of Naples’s best pizzerias. Evidence of this can be seen in the pizzeria’s dining room; by noon, Carmnella is already full, unusual in a city like Naples, where locals are used to having lunch between 1 and 3 p.m.

When the Phocaeans founded Marseille in 6th century B.C., these ancient Greek explorers launched France’s long history with wine production and consumption. In the 1930s, southern France became famous for another kind of grape juice. In the southwestern town of Moissac, home of the Chasselas grape, Dr. Armand Rouanet touted the amazing health benefits of grape-seeds at his uvarium. At this first-of-its-kind center for grape-based therapies (uva is the Latin root for grape), people would consume a grape-only diet (2-6 pounds a day) to heal everything from cellulite to constipation. Ironically, this grape cleanse was ideal for detoxifying the liver, the organ most damaged by wine. This temple of grape glorification was such a success that dozens of stations uvales sprouted across the south of France to peddle the just-pressed grape juice alongside other fresh-squeezed fruit.

“We’ve tried our best to return to deeper ways of cooking,” says Beatrice Ajaero, sitting in the front room of Nneji (nn-Nay-jee). The name of her grocery and takeaway restaurant – which opened in Astoria during the early summer of 2020, not long after the coronavirus pandemic crested in New York City – has been translated, simply, as “mother.” That’s too pat a translation from the Igbo language of southern Nigeria, Beatrice explains. “May I never be disconnected from my maternal heritage” gives a fuller sense of the meaning. More prosaically, “nneji” expresses the desire that “may I never forget where I come from.” On the signage outside the shop, three words echo that spirit: “Africa, food, kindred.”

For a city famous for making one of the best-known wines in the world, it took Porto a long time to catch up with viable options for bars offering good glasses. But Portugal's second-biggest city has finally reached an effervescent wine peak that lives up to its worldwide fame – not to mention the country is now the world's leader in wine consumption, at around 58 liters per capita. Today, bars in Porto are wildly different from days past: their wine-by-the-glass lists feature many small producers and venture away from conventional bottles, they have young chefs in the kitchen taking a more international approach to their menus (with influences from the Middle East to Latin America), and offer service that is both professional and welcoming.

Throughout Mexico, both foods and drinks are centered around corn, a tendency that’s most evident in Mexico’s wide variety of antojitos, or “little cravings,” small, portable snacks featuring some variation on the corn tortilla – of which the taco is undoubtedly the most well-known globally – antojitos are one of the joys of Mexican cuisine, and vary impressively across the country’s 32 states. In the southwestern state of Oaxaca, there’s no shortage of delicious antojitos – at breakfast, soft, steaming tamales wrapped in the region’s abundant banana leaves are the name of the game, while night owls have ample opportunity to crunch into a tlayuda, a giant tortilla folded over lots of shredded, mozzarella-like quesillo cheese, then griddled over hot coals until crispy on the outside and molten on the inside.

At a quick glance, the dimly lit entrance of Chinatown’s Far East Plaza shows a handful of humble restaurants selling familiar rice noodle dishes, banh mi sandwiches, and pho. Once inside, rays of light guide you to a busy open-air plaza that hosts a thriving, out-of-sight destination for curious eaters where vendors have long lines, sell-out early, or prefer reservations. Among the many businesses celebrated here, open only Friday through Sunday and selling out within a few hours, is Baker's Bench by Jennifer Yee. Peering into a small glass case as if they were gazing at precious gems, customers visiting Baker's Bench are privy to rows of flaky chocolate croissants, moist blueberry muffins, rich black sesame cookies and buttery Danish pastries.

Before we start this story, we must first explain the role of the platia in Greece. Platia (πλατεία, pronounced pla-tee-ah and sometimes spelled plateia) means “plaza” in Greek, and can refer to a central town square or a small neighborhood square. All ages meet at the platia: babies in strollers, loud children running and playing like there’s no tomorrow, teenagers having their first smoke or kiss, parents, grandparents, cats, dogs! These squares are to be found all around Greece, even in the most remote village. The role of the plaza in an Athenian neighborhood is even more vital and precious. It preserves the idea of a neighborhood, where everyone gets to know each other and share something in common.