The neighborhood of Kallithea in southern Athens may be quiet, but this densely populated area has seen its share of activity over the years, beginning in the early 20th century when it was largely built up by refugees from Asia Minor (modern day Turkey) and the Pontus (the coastal regions of the Black Sea). The first waves arrived after the Greco-Turkish war (1919-1922) and later the Lausanne Treaty (1923), which called for a population exchange between Greece and Turkey. More refugees from the Soviet Union appeared in the 1930s and then a third wave came much later, in the 1990s, after the dissolution of the Soviet Union.

“Thai people in the North eat a lot of herbs,” Arada Moonroj tells us, over tea, in the dining room of Lamoon. Arada (Ah-rah-dah) opened the restaurant in 2018 with her husband, Jugkrwut Borin, and their longtime friend Piboon “Otto” Thongtanyong in Elmhurst, Queens – a neighborhood already flush with Thai restaurants and cafes. Many of these businesses feature the cuisine of Bangkok, which is heavily influenced by Chinese immigration and often tends toward sweetness. A smaller number serve the rustic and spicy food of Isan, the northeastern region that borders Laos and Cambodia. But very few, anywhere in New York, devote themselves to the food of Northern Thailand, Arada’s first home.

Located in the picturesque neighborhood of Santa Maria la Ribera, Kolobok – the little Russian restaurant that could – bustles in the Mexico City dusk one recent Sunday afternoon. Patrons cluster around the warm light of the to-go window, shouting out empanada orders over the sound of a band playing nearby in the neighborhood’s Plaza Morisko. Ducking inside, we grab a seat at one of the few, tightly clustered tables, feeling cozy and warm after the chill outside. Russian cuisine remains something of a mystery to most Mexicans as immigration from that country has been a mere trickle in comparison to the various waves of Chinese, Lebanese, Spanish, Argentinean and Korean migrants over the last 200 years, and their resulting culinary contributions.

After being named Best European Destination in 2017 and earning a few other tourist distinctions, there’s no doubt about it: Porto is trendy. But what’s trendy is also in Porto, and those who live here see new restaurants pop up every week. We try them all – places both bold and familiar – because we have a good appetite, but we put our trust in those spots where we get the warmest reception. And trust is something we take very seriously in Porto. Homey meals at A Cozinha do Manel Open now for three decades, A Cozinha do Manel is far from the touristy downtown and serves up good old comfort food, the type of fare that leaves us serenely satisfied.

2018 in Istanbul seemed to be dominated by discussions of financial woes. Amid an ongoing economic crisis, the lira shed half of its value between January and August, resulting in a spike in prices of even the most basic staples. Everything seemed expensive in relation to Turkish wages, which dramatically declined in value literally overnight. People who wanted to leave the country couldn’t, as foreign currency became too expensive to obtain. Naturally, prices on the menu also shot up, but Istanbul’s restaurant scene has remained thriving amid the recession. In 2018, we found a number of the city’s classic establishments doing business as usual, while some well-received newcomers joined the fold to major success even in these troubled times. Allow us to present Istanbul’s Best Bites of 2018.

This was a year of culinary highs for sure, one that involved freshwater eel, lamb ramen, sake and more. Kyuri Cucumbers at Sobaya Nicolas Following a visit to Kyoto’s Nishiki Market, I felt myself yearning for local kyo yasai, vegetables from the Kansai region of Japan. That night we were invited by a local artisan for a Michelin-starred soba meal at Sobaya Nicolas, a much-lauded eatery far from the crowded streets of central Kyoto. A great soba restaurant is judged not only by the quality of soba and sauces, but also by the side dishes accompanying the soba.

Shanghai usually opts for trendy over traditional, and 2018 was no different. Dining and drinking “hotspots” tended to appear in the slew of newly-opened ultra-lux five-star hotels, including the Middle House, Edition, Sukkothai and BVLGARI hotels, to name just a few. In the everyday budget range, we’re still seeing mom-and-pop shops struggle to survive the tight real estate market and licensing battles with city officials. With yet another western-style bakery opening up and replacing our neighborhood Hunan joint, we’re left hoping that maybe 2018 was also the year of “peak” bread and coffee. It seems that trendy coffee shops are taking over any slice of open real estate.

The little stall run by Raquel Ángeles and her sister Evi on Balderas Avenue in Mexico City looks like any other of the tens of thousands of stands across the capital that serve millions of people every day. And yet, having eaten at hundreds of these places over the last two decades, we can safely say that the unassuming Antojitos Mexicanos Raquel sits right at the top of our list of go-to spots for a shot of “Vitamina T.” Most Mexicans have to count every peso, and a single hearty meal often has to serve in place of three squares a day, so, borne of necessity, you get “Vitamina T,” a catchall phrase stemming from the preponderance of “T”-named foods.

In happier times in Aleppo, a sweet drink called sharab al-louz ¬– made with almond extract, milk and sugar – was a staple at celebratory events such as engagement parties and weddings, Ammar Rida recalls. That was before he had to leave his job as a lecturer at the University of Aleppo and flee Syria lest he be conscripted to fight in the war that has been ravaging his country for the past seven years. Today, Rida, a serious man in his late thirties with short salt-and-pepper hair and a stubbly beard, is working to establish a business selling sharab al-louz and other healthy, natural drinks – some traditional to Syria and others he is developing based on his background in food science – at restaurants in Istanbul.

If we could wind the clock back to 1934, to listen in as Rudy’s Bakery rolled its first strudel, German is the language we would have heard at the baker’s bench, and beside the glass-fronted display cases, and, more likely than not, on the sidewalk outside, along Seneca Ave. At least since the late 1800s, Ridgewood, Queens, was a predominantly German community. Local breweries were major employers; at the turn of the century, Ridgewood and neighboring Bushwick, Brooklyn, were home to more than a dozen.

El Racó de l’Agüir (“Agüir’s Corner”), a restaurant in Barcelona’s Sant Antoni neighborhood, has been a long time in the making: it represents the life’s work of the Agüir family, the culmination of their talent and experience. Two generations can be found here – parents Roser and Ferran, who have managed four different restaurants over the course of their careers, and their sons, Iván and Ferran, both of whom are now in their 40s and grew up working with their parents. Mom and dad opened El Racó de l’Agüir in 1990, but after two years their progeny took over the reins.

Before the tourists discovered Tbilisi, Kote Apkhazi Street was Leselidze Street, an unassuming cobblestone ribbon connecting Old Town’s bath district, Abanotubani, with Freedom Square. Home to the Georgian Synagogue, the Armenian Holy Church of Nazareth, and Father of The Cross Church, no other street represents the capital’s multi-ethnic and multi-denominational heritage better. Other than these houses of God, Leselidze hosted several religious shops, a couple of unremarkable restaurants, second-hand clothes shops and mom-and-pop groceries. No one foresaw the flocks of visitors that would invade the Old Town with their selfie sticks, but people understood the location had a future.

Unusual takes on ramen abound in Tokyo, from carefully balanced chocolate and lamb creations for Valentine’s Day to algae-tinted blue broth, but few leave you with cravings and daydreams lasting for weeks. Adding a quality twist on ramen is a challenge – simplicity is one of the dish’s most vital elements, as with most Japanese cuisine. Yet friends Yamada and Sumida struck gold with one perfectly measured twist: smoke. Tucked away near Rikkyo University in a quiet area filled with student-friendly restaurants and cafés, their modest ramen joint Kemuri (which means “smoke” in Japanese) serves their latest experimental dishes without straying from the joy of good ramen at its best – quality ingredients cooked to perfection.

The Delta de l’Ebre is a magical part of southern Catalonia’s Tarragona region. A flat swampy area where the Ebro River meets the sea, the delta contains within its confines a natural park rich in fauna and flora as well as 20,500 hectares of rice fields; the ecosystem allows both to coexist in harmony. The area is perhaps at its most magical when the water rises up to cover the plots, creating what the rice producer Teresa Margalef calls a “land of mirrors.” Until the arrival of the Arabs to the Iberian Peninsula in 711, rice in Spain (and Europe) was a non-cultivated grass with Asian origins; wheat was the crop of choice. The Moors, experts in its cultivation, started to implement their planting and harvesting techniques in the swampy areas in the south and east of the peninsula.

While most artisanal markets and mom-and-pop groceries throughout Japan have given way to large supermarket chains and convenience stores, Kyoto still boasts one of the last markets selling local delicacies along with fresh foods and housewares. Often called “Kyoto’s Kitchen,” Nishiki Market is not like traditional huge bazaars with stalls selling fresh vegetables, fruits and meat. The market’s roots date back almost five centuries, to the fish market that grew up around an underground stream that remains freezing cold throughout the year and historically provided a way to keep fish fresh in a city far from the sea.