Brazil’s economic crisis has hit Rio hard this past year, and the culinary scene was by no means immune from the downturn. Some famous restaurants and bars closed their doors for good. But the city hasn’t given up. In fact, if some doors have closed, a lot more have opened. Because now creativity is being used as a weapon against the crisis, and not only at newly opened spots. Established bars and restaurants have been reinvigorated with new ideas and processes. In this atmosphere, many exciting culinary novelties have made their way to the streets, ready for us to indulge in, all without having to spend too much money. So my best bites of 2017 reflect this abundance of good and cheap novel eats that have become so popular in these leaner times.

With new restaurants popping up in this increasingly popular city and so many more disappearing due to rising rents, 2017 was a year of change – both good and bad – in the Lisbon food scene. We mourn those spots that have left us, but also celebrate the arrival of some exciting places helmed by a new crop of young chefs who are highlighting quality and local products and ingredients. Pies at Bel’Empada: Bel’Empada, a tiny restaurant and takeaway in Alvalade, a residential area in the northern part of the city, bakes the most delicious pies with a thin light dough that are bursting with flavor.

After an awful 2016 punctuated by bomb attacks and a failed coup attempt, Istanbulites were clinging to the desperate hope that tensions would ease in the new year. Then, shortly after bottles had been popped and toasts had been made, news suddenly poured in that the city’s ritziest nightclub had been sprayed with bullets in a shocking and tragic attack that claimed the lives of 39 people. Though the year started off with the kind of bang I wasn’t expecting, things have calmed down in 2017. This has afforded Istanbulites the opportunity to spend less time worried about their own personal safety and more time focused on the still-troubling political situation that clouds Turkey today.

Everyone seems to feel at ease in Emice’nin Yeri. It’s the kind of place where workers come after their shifts, families and couples dine, single men drink their tea and watch football matches on the TV, and women too are comfortable eating alone. It’s not just a welcoming place – Emice’nin Yeri also happens to be one of the best Black Sea restaurants around. The emice part of the name comes from the Laz language and means “uncle,” or amca in Turkish, so can be translated to “Uncle’s Place,” a fitting moniker for the restaurant does have a certain avuncular charm.

There’s a new phenomenon in Rio’s botequim scene. Until some years ago, running one of these small bars was something done exclusively by immigrants from Portugal, Spain and Brazil’s northeast. But ever since botequims became extremely popular among the carioca middle class, new players have gotten into the business: the customers themselves. Since the beginning of the 21st century, it has become more and more common to hear about botequim customers who decided to buy the bars they used to frequent. Initially, it might be to help the former owners and to keep the bar from closing due to financial problems. But then they might notice that running a botequim in Rio can be enjoyable – and also good business, if the job is well done.

It has the makings of a sitcom: two itinerant chefs, one Greek and the other Peruvian, meet in Portugal and decide to open up a restaurant devoted to their home countries’ cooking. Rather than pratfalls, though, we get Pita.gr, a charming restaurant where during the course of one meal we can feast on ceviche, fresh moussaka and tiropita (a Greek pastry made of phyllo dough, feta cheese, honey and sesame seeds), all at the same table. Having the chance to eat delicious food from both countries feels like a privilege in this corner of the Margem Sul (South Bank), half an hour’s drive from central Lisbon.

To say that Athens gets hot in the summer is an understatement. Many Athenians escape to the islands, preferring a sea breeze to the sweltering city. But for those stuck in the concrete jungle, a classic way to cool down is to visit one of the city’s many open-air cinemas – also called summer cinemas – after dark. An important summer ritual for Greeks of all ages, these open-air cinemas usually open for the season in late April or early May, when the weather first starts to warm up, and close in late September or early October.

Autumn in Rio finds the city at its the best. The days are sunny, the scorching heat of January and February has subsided, and it's low season for tourists, which means the beaches are less crowded. The only problem with fall days is they end too early—the sun sets by 6:00 pm in April. If you want to keep the day going, one good option is to head to one of the city's many beachside pé sujos (literally, dirty feet), ultra-casual outdoor bars. On a recent April evening we found ourselves at Bar Bunda de Fora (Bar Butt-Out), steps from Copacabana Beach. According to owner Deborah Cardoso, the bar got its nickname because the interior used to be so small that when customers placed their orders at the counter their rear ends were technically outside the bar. It's a classic low-key Rio joint: the beer is light, cheap, and bem gelada (very cold); the stools are made of plastic; and the food is fried. The crowd is young and old, mostly made up of families and neighbors.

Order a plate of vindaloo in one of the many Goan restaurants around Lisbon and your local friend at the table may point out that the origin of this dish is, in fact, Portuguese. Even the name can be decoded back to the Portuguese vinho d’alhos (wine and garlic), he’ll say. But let’s be honest here, amigo, vinho d’alhos has about as much to do with Goan vindaloo as the croissant does with the cronut. Vinho d’alhos may have sailed off to Goa along with Vasco da Gama in the 15th century, but when it returned to Lisbon with Goan migrants in the 1960s and 70s, something had changed. It had gone Goan.

Portuguese gastronomy is at the core of Rio's botequins, the small, often family-run gastrobars spread all over the city. Traditional botequins offer European food and some unique aspects of Brazilian culture – mix you’ll find only in Rio. That being said, it’s hard to say whether Tasca Carvalho, the brand new Portuguese gastrobar in Copacabana, is a typical botequim. Run by two young Portuguese friends newly arrived from Porto, Tasca Carvalho is not a mix, but 100 percent Portuguese. And that makes it unique in Rio's street food landscape. Perhaps the only indication of Brazilian influence you might find at Tasca Carvalho is in the ambience. The tables and benches, spread all over the sidewalk, follow the carioca rules of informality.

Barcelona’s urban sprawl makes it easy to forget that the city is adjacent to two fertile regions to the north and south, El Maresme and El Baix Llobregat, which provide numerous hyperlocal culinary treasures throughout the year. In spring as in other seasons, these treasures appear at markets and restaurants, their origins proudly displayed, sometimes even with the names of the specific villages that they come from. The coast and gently sloping mountains of El Maresme are home to numerous villages, three natural parks and beaches. Unsurprisingly, there’s an abundance of seafood here, including gamba de Arenys (Arenys prawns), scampi (escamarlans in Catalan, cigalas in Spanish) and little Mediterranean sand eels (sonsos in Catalan).

In terms of greenness, Athens doesn’t even come close to other European capitals with their verdant parks and blossoming gardens. The truth is, modern urban development has not been particularly gentle with this city. Numerous concrete buildings along with poor road design hem in inhabitants and visitors with featureless views. Thankfully, there are some oases in the cement desert that offer the hungry local or tourist a lush respite in which to enjoy a meal or a drink. Just behind the parliament lies the Ethnikos Kipos, or National Gardens, the indisputable green heart of the city.

When Leyla Kılıç Karakaynak opened up a tiny restaurant on Kallavi Street in Istanbul's Beyoğlu district in 1996, she couldn't have predicted that she would end up practically running the whole street. That small restaurant, Fıccın, is now spread across six buildings on the same block-long pedestrian-only street and has become an Istanbul institution. The restaurant shares its name with its signature dish, a meat-filled savory pastry that is among the Circassian specialties on the menu. Karakaynak's family hails from North Ossetia, and while Fıccın serves up a number of classic Turkish staples, it's the regional dishes that you can't miss, including Çerkez tavuğu, a simple yet sumptous paste of shredded chicken and walnuts, and Çerkes mantısı, comforting, pillowy dumplings served under yogurt.

On the left bank of Tbilisi’s Mtkvari River in the Plekhanov district is David Aghmashenebeli Avenue, a thoroughfare long associated with wallet-friendly Turkish restaurants and discount clothing boutiques. Some 15 years ago, the crumbling 19th-century buildings and huge eucalyptus trees that lined the street were crowded with people hawking everything from wooden utensils to costume jewelry, fresh produce and coffee beans labeled “Nescafé.” It was a congested, lively sidewalk bazaar of sorts that exemplified the Asiatic spirit of Tbilisi. However, a massive urban renewal project in 2011 put an end to the colorful disorder. Today, most of Aghmashenebeli is a sensible European-looking boulevard that the former President of Georgia likened to Paris, although the Turkish restaurants are still there serving up tasty Anatolian specialties.

Istanbul's Kurtuluş neighborhood is home to a number of slow-burners, establishments that may be hidden in plain view due to their plainness but that end up becoming some of our favorites. Gimmicks don’t fly in down-to-earth Kurtuluş, where neighborly ties are strong and home-cooked meals are preferred. Tucked on a side street in the middle of the quarter is a small eatery that exemplifies this tried-and-true character. Behind windows that fog up quickly in the winter sit a handful of tables facing an open kitchen in what might be Istanbul's coziest restaurant, Ben-u Sen, which showcases the divine ev yemekleri (home cooking) of the delightful Nuray Güzel.