Evi Papadopoulou is no stranger to the culinary arts. A well-regarded food journalist who has written articles on pastries and desserts in the top Greek gastronomy publications, she is also a classically trained chef. She studied at the culinary school of renowned Italian pastry chef Iginio Massari and followed that up with specialized training in making artisanal gelato at Francesco Palmieri’s prestigious laboratory in Puglia, Italy. In July of 2014, Papadopoulou opened Le Greche, a gelato parlor tucked away on Mitropoleos Street, right off Syntagma Square. The parlor itself is straight out of an Alphonse Mucha painting and has an Art Nouveau feel, with its airy, muted color palette. Since it opened, the shop has accumulated quite a cult following – and for good reason.

The origin of Gelataria Portuense is not your average love story. It is a more intricate tale, worthy of the universe of writer Isaac Asimov, as it begins with a woman's passion for a machine. In this case, the woman is the Porto-based gelatiere Ana Castro Ferreira, and the device is called Effe, a prodigious gelato machine created at the hands of Otello Cattabriga, an ingenious and talented Italian inventor. When Ana – who formerly worked as a researcher on sustainable energy systems for buildings – took an interest in gelato, she went about searching for a gelato-making class. While investigating online, Ferreira came across a video in which skilled hands demonstrate the agility and elegance of the Effe machine.

The smell of clean clothes with a lavender sachet from grandma’s closet; the family farm in nearby Lleida province during summer with apple trees and wild aromatic herbs growing all around; peaches washed in seawater during a beach day; an afternoon snack of popsicles while playing under the pine tree in the garden. These are just some of the memories that neighbors left in the mailbox of Mamá Heladera in Barcelona’s Poblenou, where owner Irene Iborra turns them into gelato flavors – an initiative that was recently awarded by the Barcelona City Council as best new innovative business (XVII Premis Barcelona Comerç). Mamá Heladera sits next to Tío Che, a classic horchateria and ice-cream parlor on Rambla del Poblenou that opened in 1912.

When we first arrived in Marseille, we heard rumblings about a most intriguing ice cream flavor. A “black vanilla” whose color and savory taste was rumored to come from squid ink, fitting for the city’s Mediterranean perch. In a city where exaggeration is the norm, we had to go check it out for ourselves. A long line snaked from Vanille Noire, the name of both the ice cream shop and famous flavor. The vendor handed us our scoop, so black it looked like a photo negative of a vanilla cone. Our first lick was rich Madagascar vanilla. A few seconds later, the sweet became salty like the seaside air. We were hooked – regardless of what it was made of.

As night falls, the commercial life in Guadalajara’s popular neighborhoods doesn’t fade – it transforms. Everywhere you look, food stalls pop up, offering tacos, tamales, elotes, churros, and other tasty street treats, all glowing under hanging lights. These spots become local hangouts where people can grab a delicious bite before heading home. Cenadurías – literally “dinner places” – were among the first popular ways to serve meals outside the home. They have existed since the 19th century in streets, garages, and small eateries in traditional neighborhoods like Mexicaltzingo, Santa Teresita, Mezquitán Country, and Analco. These venues serve comforting dishes and mainly cater to workers and merchants finishing their day, providing a last chance to eat without complications before calling it a night. They also become go-to spots for families seeking simple, homestyle meals at affordable prices.

Stepping into Tetetlán feels like discovering a treasure that few others know about. Perhaps it's the sturdy stone wall facing the street, or the fact that the space is nestled among the imposing volcanic rocks that define this part of Mexico City, aptly called Jardines del Pedregal (Pedregal translates as “stony ground”). Or maybe it’s because there’s so much to explore inside: a restaurant, an art gallery, a boutique, a library, and a mindfulness center all coexist between the stones. And of course, there’s its famous next-door neighbor: Casa Pedregal, a stunning house designed by iconic Mexican architect Luis Barragán. Despite the many things going on in Tetetlán, the restaurant maintains a calm, inviting atmosphere. The walls are lined with artwork, and shelves filled with books infuse the air with creativity and inspiration – an energy that translates to the kitchen, too.

The numbers don’t lie: the Portuguese drink the most wine per capita of any nationality. Not surprisingly, you don’t have to look far to find the drink in Lisbon, a city where a glass of wine is sometimes cheaper than a bottle of water. But if you’re looking for a unique wine – perhaps something made by a small producer, a long-lost grape, or a bottle from an obscure region – in a comfortable or perhaps even stylish atmosphere, poured by someone who can tell you a bit about what you’re drinking, things get a little more complicated.

There are flowers all around us. Seeds and plants are scattered here and there. Herbs and fresh fruits rest in wicker and reed baskets. Sitting amongst all this glory is Stefania Salvetti, who is telling us about Paradisiello, where she lives. Meaning “Little Paradise” in Italian, Paradisiello is where Stefania has a home with 2,000 square meters of greenery, citrus trees and even chickens. The big surprise? What sounds like a glorious village outside of Naples is actually a quarter within the city, very close to the historic center. Il Paradisiello is a small, romantic, peaceful place just a few meters from the noisy city. A site where time seems to stand still, the air somehow more rarefied.

The interior walls of Kitchen Bon are painted a fiery orange. The restaurant is set back, inlaid like a jewel into Kostava, one of Tbilisi’s main avenues, and when open it glows invitingly amid the concrete – easy to miss, if you’re not looking. Chi, the owner, and her sous chef Kana gracefully navigate the small square open kitchen, lined on two sides by stools and countertops, deep-frying tempura, spooning rice, folding nori, pouring beer from a tap. An ever-present Stolichnaya vodka bottle stands beside the rice cooker, beading in the heat. Chi is sarcastic, warm, quick-tempered, funny. Her regular customers address her in tones of mingled fear and admiration; she’s one of those people you reflexively want to impress.

In a city with no shortage of postcard views, Bar Urca’s may get the title for most picturesque in Rio. The eponymous residential neighborhood where the bar is located faces Guanabara Bay, where a colorwheel of boats and yachts bobble on the slow waves leading up to the seawall. Across the bay, the iconic Christ statue watches over everyone from atop Corcovado peak behind the neighborhood of Botafogo.

Inside Sei-Ko-En, a small strip mall restaurant on Sepulveda Boulevard in Torrance, smoke rises from the small grills. Japanese and English conversations can be heard over the sizzle of meat cooking. Just like at yakiniku joints around Japan, customers at Sei-Ko-En grill their own meat, which is accompanied by plates of kimchi and steaming bowls of yukgaejang (a spicy Korean soup with shredded beef). Yakiniku has its roots in Korean barbecue and this style of grilling meat was introduced to Japan by Korean immigrants, so it’s very common to see traditional Korean dishes served at yakiniku restaurants as well.

Editor’s note: In the latest installment of our recurring First Stop feature, we asked chef and author Brendan Liew about some of his favorite spots to eat in Tokyo. A chef by training, Brendan Liew has worked at restaurants including three-Michelin-starred Nihonryori Ryugin in Tokyo and Hong Kong and Sushi Minamishima in Melbourne. He’s currently at Warabi, a Japanese kappo omakase in Melbourne. He has also authored three books on Japanese cuisine: A Day In Tokyo, Tokyo Up Late and Konbini. You can follow Brendan on Instagram here.

In France’s oldest and perhaps most rebellious city, the food culture is a direct reflection of its character: fiercely independent, unburdened by the strict codes of Parisian gastronomy, and deeply shaped by its ancient identity as a bustling port. For millennia, ingredients, people, and traditions have washed ashore here, creating a culinary DNA that is not French, but Marseillais – a vibrant mix of Provençal terroir, Italian soul, and North African spice. This is not a city that asks for permission. It cooks what it knows, with what it has, for the people who call it home. Navigating this landscape requires moving beyond the idea of a simple "best of" list. For us at Culinary Backstreets, an "essential" Marseille restaurant is one that tells a crucial part of the city's story. It might be a family-run pizzeria that has become a neighborhood institution, a humble snack shack preserving a street-food tradition, or a modern kitchen where a chef’s dual heritage is expressed on the plate. The following collection is a guide to these vital places, curated from years of on-the-ground reporting. These are the spots that, to us, capture the true, eclectic, and deeply satisfying spirit of Marseille.

Moroccan cuisine, at least items like couscous and harissa, can today be found in nearly any supermarket. But New York, with all its culinary diversity, has never had a real Moroccan restaurant scene. The recently launched Moroccan Bites by Siham goes a long way toward filling that void. “[When I moved to New York] I would have loved to have a restaurant that I could be proud of and tell people about, but sadly, there was not,” says Rabat-born Redouan Lazrek, the restaurant’s co-owner and husband of Siham Bourhane, the chef.