Deservedly famous for its rich food traditions, the state of Oaxaca is one of our favorite culinary destinations in Mexico. But with Oaxaca City lying nearly 300 miles southeast of Mexico City, we’re always on the lookout for places to satisfy our appetite for Oaxacan cuisine in the D.F. Specializing in tlayudas, one of Oaxaca’s most typical foods, the recently opened Aguamiel is a very welcome addition to the local dining scene.

Palanca Gigante is an Angolan tasca in multicultural Mouraria, Lisbon’s medieval downtown district. The restaurant is named after a critically endangered species of antelope (the palanca negra gigante, or giant sable antelope) that was adopted as an Angolan national symbol after that country’s independence from Portugal in 1975. Though regular Portuguese tascas – no-frills eateries – in Lisbon are far less endangered, it is harder to find authentic food from Portugal’s former colonies at such approachable prices in the city center.

At first glance, the Gràcia district of Barcelona appears to be the gatekeeper of the resurgent Catalan identity: “Free Catalonia!” graffiti scrawled in the backstreets, Catalan flags flying from so many balconies, the distinct sound of the Catalan language heard in cafés and eateries.

A bodega can be a corner store or a corner bar, or sometimes even a wine cellar with a small kitchen serving refined riffs on traditional Spanish foods. In Barcelona, a bodega is all of these, but most of all it is the beating heart of the neighborhood.

QUICK BITE: Spend the day eating your way through Sants, a lesser-explored neighborhood with a booming local food scene and an interesting history. We’ll dig into markets and old vermuteria, pastry shops and down home restaurants, but we’ll also find the pulse of Sants in some contemporary culinary projects.

A market with a million stories, the Mercado de la Merced lies sprawling across some 12 blocks in Mexico City, offering a mind-boggling array of goods, as it has for centuries. Operating in the northwest corner, next to the 17th-century Santo Tomás Apóstol La Palma church, is a 67-year-old association of dulcerías – purveyors of sweets and candies – with 154 stalls selling traditional goodies in elaborate and tantalizing displays. Willie Wonka would eat his heart out. According to the association’s president, Daniel Jiménez Chavarría, it is the only market of its kind in Latin America, and it is deeply ingrained in the traditions that thrive across Mexico. “What we sell is purely artisanal, and we are offering a different presentation,” said Jiménez, a silver-haired man with glasses, describing how these small stalls differ from their larger competitors.

Our original dumplings tour, with a cooking class! For more than 2,000 years, Chinese chefs and home cooks have been perfecting dumplings in all their delicious bite-sized forms. Carried abroad by Silk Road travelers over the centuries, dumplings are popular around the world, but nothing tops the original!

Peixnhos da horta is translated as little fish from the garden; they are actually deep fried green bean tempura and are sampled on our Lisbon Awakens walk. It is believed that tempura was actually introduced to Japan by the Portugese Jesuit missionaries.

Lisbon seems to be getting its groove back. Or at least, more people are taking notice of this city’s unique character and clearly taking to it. Recently, Vogue and The New York Times profiled the Intendente district, an up-and-coming neighborhood in the city center; Monocle magazine held its first “Quality of Life” conference in Lisbon; and many friends of ours, from Istanbul to San Francisco, are sharing beautiful photos of their latest trip to the city. Oddly, in a city on the upswing with such a rich culinary heritage, we found there was little storytelling on the subject of food and how it impacts Lisbon’s urban culture, be it in print, on the Web or on the ground (as in a tour or other guided experience).

Editor’s note: This is a new installment in an occasional series about where to wet your whistle in true Tokyo style. Every Tokyo neighborhood has its standing bars, usually near the train station. Azabu Juban’s most popular, Juban Stand, is located on a backstreet running parallel to the shoten gai shopping street. It spills out onto the sidewalk, where old kegs offer patrons the chance to drink a few beers while enjoying life on the street. Inside, a standing area snakes down the bar to the back, ending with a jumble of stools and stairs leading to a small balcony with a few wonky tables for those who prefer to sit and linger.

Up in the high streets of the Horta-Guinardó hills, not far from the old historic building of L’Hospital de La Santa Creu i Sant Pau, there is a restaurant with a big concentration of culinary talent but just eight tables. To make things worse, they are only available during two hours for lunch. Fortunately for those who can’t snag one of those precious tables, La Cuina del Guinardó (“Guinardo’s Kitchen”), a Catalan traditional market-cuisine restaurant, is also a store selling cooked food to take away from morning to evening and a great wine shop, with a tasting area in the upper level.

Although, thanks to its once flourishing silver and gold mines, the north-central Mexican state of Zacatecas was an economic powerhouse during the colonial period and the early years of the Mexican republic, its cuisine is not as well known in Mexico City as that of states such as Oaxaca and Michoacán. But when we headed this past New Year’s to the state’s eponymous capital city, we were blown away by its food, as well as its history and beautiful colonial architecture. Zacatecas played a significant role in Mexico’s economy during the colonial period: When the Spanish conquistadors learned about the region’s rich mineral deposits in the mid-16th century, they started mining operations immediately. In 1585, the city that had grown from the mining settlement was recognized by the Spanish crown and called the “Muy Noble y Leal Ciudad de Nuestra Señora de Zacatecas.”

If Istanbul is Turkey’s New York then Izmir is definitely its New Orleans. In this sun-kissed Aegean port city, peoples have come and gone for millennia – Greeks, Cretan Turks, Sephardic Jews, Armenians, Levantine Europeans and Kurds, to name a few – each contributing to the culture of the place, but also, we sense, surrendering to a lifestyle distinctive to the city. To be from Izmir is to know good food and take the time to enjoy it. Exploring the markets, bakeries, lokantas (homestyle restaurants) and tea gardens of the narrow streets that spread out below the ancient Roman-built agora, we are always struck by how local – so “Izmirli,” as the Turks say – the cuisine here is. Digging a little deeper, a wide range of Mediterranean influences reveal themselves in this city’s kitchen, reflective of its rich history.

The rustic family favorite Can Pineda has been holding down this corner of Barcelona’s El Clot neighborhood since 1904. It was not a restaurant originally, but a typical wine shop and canteen, where plenty of life could be found amongst the wooden barrels that now slumber peacefully on their perch up above the dining room. At that time, the place was frequented by local factory workers, who would come for a glass of wine to go with a simple meal or to drink while warming up their lunch boxes. The then-owners would put a pine branch on the door to signal the arrival of the vi novell, or new wine of the year, and from the pine, pi in Catalan, came the name Can Pineda, which translates roughly to “The Pine House.” Today, El Clot is part of the new high-tech 22@ district, which is focused on innovation and research but maintains in its oldest streets the spirit of the village (Sant Martí de Provençals) that once flourished here, with its own market (dating back to 1889) and walls that remain from Barcelona’s first Industrial Age. Can Pineda sits right in the middle, a small but welcoming eatery with just 30 seats, decorated with the characteristic blue azulejos tiles, those wooden barrels and a few excellent hams hanging behind the bar.

Editor's note: As Rio gears up for the 2016 Summer Olympics, CB has been exploring the backstreets of the city's Olympic Zones in search of gold-medal eateries. This is the first dispatch in the series. Barra da Tijuca was meant to be the best of Rio without its worst. Sandy beaches with no pickpockets. Top-notch shopping with no annoying squawking vendors. Playgrounds with no worrisome outsiders – because those playgrounds are inside gated condominiums with guards who sometimes have pistols tucked into their belts. The Avenida das Américas is 14 lanes wide, enough space for everyone to have their own car and leave the bus lanes to the white-uniformed maids and servicemen and women who bustle into Barra each day.