Start with stale, leftover bread. Add to this some of Portugal’s most decadent, richest ingredients, and you have açorda de gambas, a dish that manages to bridge the gap between poverty and indulgence. The Portuguese are masters at transforming leftover or stale bread into new dishes. In the north, leftover slices of bread are dipped in eggs, fried in oil and sprinkled with sugar in the dessert known as rabanadas. In the south, açorda is a soup made from slices of day-old bread topped with hot water, garlic, herbs, and a poached egg. The south is also home to migas, bits of stale bread and fat that are cooked into an almost omelet-like form.

Brazil and its cuisine are a wild and sometimes baffling stew of influences and cultures – and Rio’s old city and port zone are where many of the country’s disparate elements deliciously converge. These atmospheric neighborhoods are where the Portuguese began building the city, where the slaves who were brought over to Brazil first landed, where samba was born and – most importantly – where this bustling metropolis’s multicultural identity and food culture started taking shape. On this tour we trace that history through its food, meeting the people who are keeping Brazil’s culinary traditions alive and those who are creating exciting new ones.

Ride the 7 train as it rumbles above Roosevelt Avenue, and with every stop, you’ll find another world of where to eat in Queens, New York. Get off in Jackson Heights, and the air might be fragrant with Nepali spices and frying Indian jalebi; a few stations later in Corona, fresh-pressed tortillas and slow-cooked birria will welcome you. Here, the globe has unpacked its many kitchens alongside its luggage and moved in. This is Queens, a borough with more than 1 million foreign-born residents, thrumming with hundreds of languages, foods, and wares.

The Higobashi area in Osaka’s Nishi Ward is an eclectic gastronomic oasis off the beaten path. While many head to the obvious tourist spots of Namba and Umeda to grab a bite, under-the-radar Higobashi is home to a diverse mix of eateries that showcase Osaka’s lesser-known flavors. While often seen as high end, the area has plenty of budget-friendly lunch spots and artisan sweets nearby. Also notable are the number of owner-run shops with a staff of one – think running the register with the left hand and rolling out dough with the right! Read on for our selection of some of the best offerings in this quaint neighborhood.

It's just shy of 4 p.m. on a gray Sunday afternoon in Istanbul, and there is a line out the door at Bayramoğlu, considered by many to be the best döner restaurant in Turkey. A sign on the corner of the building proudly proclaims the establishment to be the “pioneer of döner” and in the middle of the roof there is a human-sized model of a rotating döner, just in case it wasn't clear what the star of the show is around here. Inside are two huge dining rooms, hundreds of guests, and dozens of employees, who are running a tight ship across a sea of controlled chaos. There is nothing subtle about Bayramoğlu. This place is a juggernaut, spread across 1,000 square meters with four hulking döners cooking with the flames of high-quality oak charcoal, and two tandoori ovens (also wood-burning) where slices of fresh tandır ekmeği flatbread are cooked in seconds. When a guest leaves, their table is swiftly cleaned, and the next diner in line is quickly escorted in and their order taken: a single portion, one and a half, or a double?

Rissóis (plural) are half-moon-shaped savory pastries of peasant origins, and from grandmothers' houses to bakeries to the classic tascas, they are as ubiquitous in Portugal as cod fritters. However, the rissol is less popular than its contender, even though it is the perfect appetizer for any occasion, with a variety of different fillings which range from minced beef to shrimp.

The idyllic Pelion Peninsula, which sits halfway between Thessaloniki and Athens, is a magical place, one where old culinary traditions thrive, fresh produce and superlative seafood are king, and coastal villages dripping with unspoiled charm sit on centuries of history. On our nine-day trip through this region, we’ll get chance to explore – and taste – a side of Greece that most visitors to the country have yet to experience.

The morning after a festive night brings familiar symptoms: a throbbing headache, heartburn, perhaps an upset stomach. As people reach for something to soothe their hangover, they take part in a shared experience that transcends borders and cultures, uniting humanity in the eternal quest for the perfect hangover remedy. Korea has its own iconic day-after-drinking cure: haejangguk, which literally translates to “hangover soup.” It’s a hot, hearty soup filled with meat and vegetables, served with rice. Korean drinkers often joke that the salty, steaming broth pairs perfectly with a shot of soju, leading to the familiar scene of someone drinking soju alongside haejangguk to cure their hangover – only to end up drinking more.

Mention Thonburi to Bangkok people, and they’re likely to picture a distant, suburban – perhaps even rural – enclave. But the neighborhood is located just across the Chao Phraya River from Bangkok, imminently accessible via river-crossing ferries, bridges, and the Skytrain, and is home to a less-publicized yet visit-worthy, vibrant food scene. In particular, one Thonburi street, Thanon Tha Din Daeng, in the Khlong San area, is home to a huge variety of excellent legacy restaurants and stalls, not to mention a decent market, all of which can be visited on foot – a rarity in Bangkok.

In Guadalajara, every sidewalk, corner, garage, vacant lot, food cart, car wash, and even bicycle has the potential to become a food stand – a restaurant just waiting to happen. But what truly sets our city's gastronomy apart is its contradictions. It’s both stubborn and traditional, yet constantly evolving. It belongs to no one, and everyone. It’s both sacred and profane because, while we take our recipes seriously, we’re not afraid to push boundaries and bring them to unexpected places. Case in point: “birriamen” – a mashup of the very local dish birria with Japanese import ramen.

It's a Sunday and, in the blink of an eye, Manojo is full. People move between tables with familiarity; customers greet one another, say hello with a kiss on the cheek or give a wave – it feels as if everyone is a regular in this small establishment on José Arana Street in San Sebastian’s beachside Gros neighborhood. Manojo was created for just such a purpose, helmed by a couple of young chefs obsessed not so much with fine dining but with assuring a fine evening for all guests, by way of creative and honest food; for wines that are ready to start a good conversation and, mostly, for an ambience that feels as warm as a friend's hug.

In a city where dozens of new restaurants seem to sprout every week, it’s not an easy feat to stay on the culinary map for more than eight decades. Yet amidst the bustling streets of San Rafael hides a true oasis – a place where time seems to have stopped – a laid-back, family-run institution where fresh seafood and friendly service have been the norm for the past 80 years. Sitting down to lunch at Boca del Río on a Sunday is, perhaps, one of the best decisions we’ve made lately. The spacious, retro dining room is populated with a healthy mix of families, couples, and a few groups of friends who, like us, know their first mission is to order the ultimate Mexican hangover cure: micheladas and seafood. Afterwards comes a soothing cup of shrimp broth, savory and slightly spicy, keeping us company as we browse the menu.

Shinjuku’s Omoide Yokocho (“Memory Lane”) gradually grew from the rubble of post-war Tokyo, and has since become an institution of sorts. It started out as a black market area and gradually morphed into the narrow bar-lined, charcoal smoke-filled alleyway it remains to this day, with little in the way of real change since the 1950s. It’s not just the alley’s looks that haven’t altered much over the years, but also the food on offer – in the late 1940s, a crackdown on controlled goods affected the food stalls, forcing the vendors to switch to products that weren’t controlled, such as roast giblets. It’s a shift reflected even now, as many places continue to serve yakitori (chicken skewers) and motsu (offal).

Fermented foods are at the heart of traditional Japanese culinary culture and there’s no better place to experience this than within Japan’s Kansai region, a living repository for some of Japan’s most important and ancient traditions. Join us on this nine-day trip through this historic heartland of Japan – home to the food-loving cities of Osaka, Nara, and Kyoto – as we meet craftspeople whose knowledge and expertise stretches back generations. From sake distillers to miso producers and tea farmers, Michelin-starred chefs and knife craftsmen, we’ll get a once-in-a-lifetime grounding in what makes this region’s cuisine world-class, while along the way eating meals both delicate and outrageous in their flavors.

Fragrant with lemongrass, galangal, ginger, coconut and spices, the food of Penang tells a story of geography, trade, class and time. From the intricately prepared dishes of the Nyonya Peranakan culture to the vibrant hawker stall scene to the farms and fisheries of the rural lands, Penang is a rich classroom for the culinary traveler. Located at the strategic entrance to the straits of Malacca, Penang was once a trade powerhouse, gatekeeping the sea route between the East and the West. As a result, it’s home to many different immigrants and the birthplace of new, blended cultures. One of these is the Nyonya Peranakan, and their historic and contemporary foodways are the focus of our trip with Linda Tay Esposito and Captain Poh Hoo Peng. You’ll make Linda’s family recipes at a cooking school inside a spice garden, cook a multi-course traditional Nyonya Peranakan feast with culinary ambassador Su-Pei, visit historic homes and villages, learn about intricate Nyonya beadwork and fabrics and stroll George Town’s picturesque streets.