Pintxo bars abound in Bilbao, concentrated in the narrow streets of the Casco Viejo, the old town on the shores of the Nervion estuary. Known colloquially as Zazpikaleak (“seven streets” in the Basque language), this is where the city was born, and its streets are still full any day of the week with residents, shoppers, tradesmen and locals doing some old-fashioned poteo. If you plan on stepping foot in this Basque capital, you’d better learn what poteo is firsthand. The endurance required to barhop with a Basque is real, especially considering this social act consists of downing glass of wine after glass of wine in what is essentially a bar crawl. Fortunately, the Basques have invented their own coping mechanism – the pintxo.

Nestled in the smaller bay of the Gulf of Naples, on the northern side of the Posillipo cape, Pozzuoli is the main center of the Phlegraean Fields, a vast and fertile volcanic area still marked by craters, sulfurous fumes, and seismic activity, rich with natural and archaeological treasures. Pozzuoli was once a Greek colony and a main Roman harbor and trading port the later a fishing village. Today it’s a busy ferry terminal – ferries heading towards the islands of Ischia and Procida leave from here – and a lively coastal district.

As the temperature soars in Bangkok, it means two things: the arrival of Songkran, the Thai New year in April, and the much-anticipated season of a unique dish known as khao chae. If you’ve never heard of it, you are not alone, as this distinctive dish often flies under the foodie radar, overshadowed by favorites like green curry and pad Thai. Available only for a couple of months each year, khao chae is known for its cooling properties during the hot summer months. This adored tradition is a visually beautiful dish consisting of delicate grains of rice soaked in a fragrant jasmine ice bath accompanied by a selection of meticulously prepared components. While it may not be universally adored (many Thais seem to have mixed feelings about it), khao chae has experienced a revival in recent years thanks to a younger generation of locals who want to reconnect with their roots.

In Greece, Easter is not just a holiday; it is a celebration of life, faith, and hope – a tradition that unites families and communities in ways that few other occasions can. It is a time of reflection, renewal, and festivity, where centuries-old customs are lovingly upheld. The journey to this sacred day reaches its final peak on Lazarus Saturday, which marks the start of the most important week in the Greek Christian calendar – Holy Week. This day, a week before Easter, holds both religious and cultural significance, setting the stage for the symbolic meaning and importance of each day of this Holy Week, culminating in Easter itself. Lazarus Saturday is also the day that the baking begins in homes across Greece.

We are in Lota da Esquina, in Cascais, staring down a small bowl filled to the brim with a mix of crab meat, chopped eggs, mayonnaise and other seasonings. On the surface, it looks like a straightforwardly decadent dish but according to chef/owner Vítor Sobral, it’s actually a way to boost a product that’s not quite at its peak.

On March 27 of this year, Monique and Josef, the Moroccan-born couple that own Patisserie Avyel, plan to roast a turmeric-coated lamb shoulder above a bed of onions. My friend Judith, whose family hails from Algeria’s Tlemcen region, will blend almonds and raisins into mlosia, a thick jam. And, in my apartment, I will simmer matzo balls in chicken broth as my Lithuanian ancestors once did. All of us Marseillais will be cooking these foods for Passover, the Jewish holiday that commemorates the exodus of the Israelites from Egyptian slavery. While Jewish celebrations and cooking are as intertwined as the braided challah bread we eat on Shabbat – “all of our fêtes pass through the kitchen,” quips Frédérique, a Marseillaise with Tunisian roots.

In Georgia, there are certain dishes that everyone associates with Orthodox Easter: paska, a sweet panettone-like bread and chakapuli, a lamb stew. However, there is another Georgian Easter tradition, one often overlooked: nazuki. Beautifully glazed and filled with raisins and spices, in recent years these fluffy sweet breads have become associated almost exclusively with the village of Surami in the Kartli region. In this small settlement between Tbilisi and Kutaisi in the West, huts line the side of the highway, each with a tone (a cylindrical traditional oven), a baker and a family nazuki recipe.

On Easter Sunday in Greece the star of the feast is the lamb, which is often substituted with goat. In some regions (and nowadays all across the country) it’s iconically slow roasted outdoors on a large rotating spit, symbolizing the sacrifice of Christ for the salvation of humanity. This tradition of spit roast lamb is linked to customs from ancient Greece and the Jewish Passover. In many parts of Greece, tradition calls for other recipes for cooking or roasting Easter lamb. Tradition generally dictates that the whole Easter lamb must be used and consumed – including the offal and head – as the lamb here is symbolic and represents the animal sacrificed during the Resurrection of Christ, and thus serves as a tribute to the divine sacrifice.

With just 30 minutes to go until noon, Plaza Nueva already smells like pintxos de tortilla. Children chase after a ball or trade collectible cards while adults scramble for free tables. Meanwhile, gildas – skewers of olive, pickled guindilla pepper, and anchovy – stand firm at the bars like armies of tiny soldiers. It’s a typical Sunday in Bilbao, as long as the weather cooperates. If not, all the action moves under the arcades, where crowds gather, raising their marianitos high. This local drink, a mix of vermouth with a splash of Campari, another of gin, a few drops of Angostura bitters, and sometimes orange juice (every place has its own recipe), is practically a religion here.

A visit to a pastelaria in Lisbon in the lead up to Easter brings with it new surprises. Alongside the usual pastries and cakes, you’ll spot folares, loaves of sweet bread, some topped with hardboiled eggs, and many surrounded by a colorful assortment of almonds. This type of bread, which contains ingredients forbidden during Lent, has long been associated with Easter and the feasting that occurs on this holiday. “After the winter months and the long fast during Lent, the Easter brings an intense activity in terms of culinary preparations and the exchange of cakes, namely the folares,” writes Mouette Barboff in her book A Tradição do Pão em Portugal (Bread in Portugal).

It’s said that the massive gold Buddha statue at Bangkok temple Wat Traimit was once hidden away – its value concealed from an approaching army under a thick layer of plaster. It was only when workers were relocating it in the 1950s that the statue fell and the plaster exterior cracked, revealing a core of solid gold. If Wat Traimit has another hidden treasure, we’d argue that it’s Khun-Yah Cuisine. Enter one of Bangkok’s most visited temples and wind through tour buses and rows of tourists, guides, and Buddhist monks to the eastern edge of the compound; keep your eyes peeled, and you’ll see an almost garage-like space and a sign. This is Khun-Yah Cuisine.

For Eli Berchan, it certainly seemed like the universe was telling him to open his Lebanese restaurant, Sumac Mediterranean Cuisine, in Hollywood. Prior to coming to Los Angeles, Berchan was living in Lebanon and working in event management and organizing destination weddings. At the end of February, 2020, he had come to Southern California to attend an industry conference. “The last day of the conference was Covid day one, and I ended up being stuck here,” Berchan recalled. Since he wasn’t able to go back to Lebanon, he rented a place in Hollywood, and soon found out the owner happened to be Lebanese. Berchan was doing some private cooking to get by and sent his landlord, Ferris Wehbe, some traditional Lebanese food he had prepared to thank him.

It's a grey early spring day in the bustling coastal district of Üsküdar on the Anatolian side of Istanbul. The holy month of Ramadan is in its last days, and many Istanbullites are fasting until the evening. Some of those who aren't are waiting in a long queue outside of the local kent lokantası (“city restaurant”) for a late lunch, and this is the best deal around. 40 TL (US $1.05) gets you a main course with meat, a side or two, and a bowl of soup. Today, the menu is döner, buttery rice pilaf, and lentil soup, and we've arrived with an empty stomach. This restaurant is among the more than 15 that have been opened and operated by the Istanbul Metropolitan Municipality (IMM) since 2022, and they have become increasingly popular and necessary as Turkey's rampant inflation and soaring food prices have hit the city's residents hard.

Walk down a given street in Tbilisi and you will smell the seductive aroma of fresh bread wafting out of old cellar bakeries, baked in cylindrical ovens just like it always has. Listen to the refrain of “matzoni, matzoni,” being sung by women lugging bags packed with jars of the fresh sour yogurt at eight in the morning in every neighborhood. We used to boast how Georgia’s food culture and Tbilisi’s restaurants were some of the world’s best-kept secrets, but the word is out, and we’re good with that. Georgia has a bottomless, wild culinary spirit full of rewarding surprises, and we’ve been diving into it for more than a decade here at Culinary Backstreets. For us, it doesn’t matter whether the khinkali we eat are meat-packed grenades or pesto- and mushroom-stuffed buttons. Either way, they’re Georgian. All they have to be is tasty. We’ve collected a sample of our most essential Tbilisi restaurants, so you can get your own taste of Georgia.

Even for someone like myself who has lived in Japan for a long time, sliding open the door of an unfamiliar place can still be a little intimidating, as what lies beyond is invariably a complete unknown. Still, the effort is almost always worth it, as it provides entry into a whole new world, and more often than not, one where time has stood still. This is especially true in the suburban areas outside of Tokyo, where things are generally more dated, and in many ways, simply more real, offering a sense of what daily life in the Japanese capital is like. These are not soulless suburbs but rather little cities on the edge of the big city that have more than enough options for everyday living – a mix of shops and eateries, plus lots of apartment buildings and small, two-story homes. There is a whole world of bars and restaurants to be found here, each place a unique spot to have a drink, enjoy some food, and soak up the old-school atmosphere.