Visitors to Istanbul's iconic Spice Bazaar encounter a place packed wall-to-wall with overzealous shopkeepers selling everything from saffron to sumac assembled in rows of majestic pyramids at slightly inflated prices. But for our money, the only spices worth a damn are found just outside in a humbler setting. Crammed behind a tiny kiosk perched in front of a fast-food restaurant that flanks one of the bazaar's entrances is the endearing Orhan usta. The loveable 65-year-old is a veritable master of çig köfte and a connoisseur of the spicy red pepper flakes cultivated in his hometown of Gaziantep, the southeastern city considered by many to be Turkey's culinary capital.

We usually steer clear of the touristy Old City district of Kumkapı, where you are more likely to be accosted by an aggressive maitre d’ trying to corral you into his overpriced fish restaurant than to find something simple, tasty and reasonably priced to eat. Sadly, in order to beat the competition next door, most of Kumkapı’s famed fish restaurants seem to have invested more in aggressive customer corralling tactics than in kitchen talent. However, tucked into the neighborhood’s backstreets, we’ve found a few hidden dining gems that locals in the know frequent. When in the area, we skip Kumkapı’s fish restaurant strip and make a beeline for Doyuran Lokantası, a serious little eating sanctuary on a nearby side street.

The oldest city in Western Europe, once the hub of a trading empire that connected Macau in the east to Rio de Janeiro in the west, Lisbon today feels staunchly Old World European, a sleepy town of nostalgic storefronts and scenic churches. But that’s only its façade.

The oldest city in Western Europe, once the hub of a trading empire that connected Macau in the east to Rio de Janeiro in the west, Lisbon today feels staunchly Old World European, a sleepy town of nostalgic storefronts and scenic churches. But that’s only its façade.

Spain, Italy, Greece, Turkey, Portugal, Morocco, Tunisia – one thing that unites this swathe of the Mediterranean is olive oil, whose use in the Fertile Crescent can be traced back to 6000 B.C.E. Olives arrived in the southern part of the Iberian Peninsula around 9th century B.C.E. with the Phoenicians. Ancient Rome saw huge quantities of olive oil from Hispania Baetica (currently Andalucía) being transported throughout the Roman Empire in millions of amphorae (made in Baetica). Spain leads production of olive oil to this day, with 45 percent of the global total. The majority (65 percent) of Spanish olive oil production is sold to Italy, where this oil is mixed with others (normally of the same quality, but not always) and sold under an Italian label.

Barcelona’s food shops and colmados offer culinary treasures all year long, but the holidays are a particularly exciting time for browsing their wares. The festive window displays show magnificent gift baskets overflowing with tasty treats – with many Spanish and Catalan specialties among them. Perhaps the most desirable items in holiday gift baskets here are the seasonal sweets, which previous generations would amass in quantities that would serve as “emergency” treats for unexpected guests the rest of the new year. (Thankfully, one can now find these year-round, so there’s no need to hoard them.) We’ve written previously about artisanal turrón, which continues to be handmade by a few family-run companies.

With shops closing, pensions and salaries shrinking, and more and more Greeks feeling the pinch, it never ceases to amaze us that good food in the capital and elsewhere is still appreciated and faithful customers still abound. The restaurants below are just a few among the many wonderful, lively places that are managing to keep their standards despite enormous financial pressures. Their prices are affordable, their quality outstanding. Sea Satin Nino, Korthi Bay, Andros This is one of those restaurants that a Michelin Guide would rate not merely as “worth the trip” but “worth the detour.” Although it may take an hour’s drive from the port and half an hour from Hora, any meal at Sea Satin Nino is cause for celebration.

Is there a flavor more typically Greek than avgolemono, the smooth yet tart sauce that enriches dishes on virtually every restaurant menu in this country (apart from the souvlaki joint)? You’ll find it livening up soups of every description, poured over dolmades (wraps) of cabbage, vine leaves or chard and stuffed zucchini, thickening dozens of fish, meat, poultry and vegetable stews and fricassees. It marries particularly well with artichokes, in a famous delicate dish called anginares ala polita (or Constantinople-style), and binds the interesting innards in mageiritsa, the traditional fast-breaking stew-like soup eaten on Easter eve.

When we arrived in Tbilisi in 2001, there was one café/restaurant that was a beacon to those seeking an alternative to the traditional Georgian dining experience of stark rooms and banquet tables or greasy spoons with clunky tables and little stools. It was a funky little crooked house of pure originality that served the regular dishes, but with a personal homey touch that suited the place perfectly. Although it felt like a world apart, the art installation cafe was Georgian to the bone, being the creation of Rezo Gabriadze, the renowned artist, writer, sculptor and film and stage director.

Despite being home to Lisbon’s most photographed street, Bica has maintained its close-knit-community feel, with encroaching internationalization still held at arm’s length from these bumpy cobbled lanes and steep stairways. The small residences here have generally been passed down through generations, meaning a steadfast family vibe where everyone’s laundry is, literally, there for all to see. Estrela da Bica is a cozy, rustic restaurant at the bottom of this tiny hill district that perhaps marked the first sign of middle-class interest here. Historically inhabited by fishing families, Bica is becoming increasingly touristy by day and, thanks to the several bars around, more of a hangout at night.

We’d just about given up on hotpot, what with last year’s scandals of rat meat parading as lamb and opiates mingling with the Sichuan peppercorn to give diners a real buzz. But 2014 has seen the trend of farm-to-table dining hit Shanghai in a big way, spurred on by these food safety concerns. The most recent entrant to the organic dining scene is the aptly named Holy Cow. More than just a phrase made famous by Chicago Cubs announcer Harry Caray, Holy Cow is a healthy hotpot restaurant specializing in – you guessed it – beef, plus vegetables sourced from owner Anthony Zhao’s family farm. Loyal CB eaters might remember Zhao from his Shanghainese lunch hotspot Mi Xiang Yuan.

For the most part, Mexico City pampers its citizens with year-round warm, sunny weather, give or take the occasional downpour in the rainy season. And like any spoiled child, chilangos have grown so accustomed to living in such a temperate clime that any slight deviation registers as almost unbearable. At 19 degrees C, pedestrians cloak themselves in winter coats and hurry down the sidewalk, worrying that they will freeze to death on the two-block walk from their parked car to their front door. It’s rumored that chilangos are so unused to seeing their own breath in the cold that they mistake it for their souls escaping their bodies, augmenting their hatred of frigid weather.

A legendary snack bar sits on a corner of Praça Luís de Camões, a busy square dedicated to one of Portugal’s most celebrated poets (his most famous work is the epic Os Lusíadas, a fantastical interpretation of the Portuguese voyages of discovery, narrated in Homeric style). The square is a major thoroughfare in Chiado and witnesses thousands of journeys daily. Many passing through make a pit stop at O Trevo. This tiny and perpetually packed eatery has historical roots in the area; traces of the old sign, “Leitaria Trevo,” over the marble entrance reveal its beginnings as a dairy some 80 years ago.

Roughly a year ago, José, the owner of Das Flores, was heartbroken: he had just received an eviction notice demanding that he close the restaurant. And it’s not like he hadn’t been paying his rent – he had, but there were plans to transform the whole building into a luxury hotel. That has become a common occurrence in Lisbon’s recent history: closing an old family-owned business to make way for something more profitable to its landlords. Only this time the story had a different ending. With the help of a lawyer, José managed to keep his doors open. At least for the time being. He’s now a happier host, running the place behind the counter with his business-as-usual mindset.

September heralds the start of Portugal’s wine season, and while harvests from Alentejo and the north usually get all the attention, many forget that Lisbon itself also offers much to try from its own soil. This old wine-producing area was previously known as Estremadura, which extends from the capital to about 100 km to the north. In 2010, the rebranded Lisbon wine region (Região dos Vinhos de Lisboa) was born. Production has since expanded on average around 25 percent annually, with 70 percent of sales now allocated for export.