In March, as the teasing wafts of spring begin to fill the air, local farmers converge at the entrance of the Sunday bazaar in Garikula where they lean against their old jalopies with bundled fruit tree saplings and grapevine seedlings for sale. For someone who wants to start a little backyard vineyard with a handful of vines, the bazaar is a fine place to shop. More ambitious wine growers, however, need to go to a grafting nursery and place an order. In Shida Kartli, one of the largest is run by a family who has been nursing grapevines for generations. Kobe Cherqezishvili, his wife, Maia Dalakishvili, and their sons, Beso and Gio, tend to over 500 varieties at their seven-hectare nursery in Mukhrani, which they opened in 2004.

Editor’s note: Here at Culinary Backstreets, we eagerly await the coming of spring each year, not just for the nicer weather but also because some of our favorite foods and dishes are at their best – or indeed, are only available – for a short period during this season. This post from Marseille is the first installment of “Spring (Food) Break 2021,” a weeklong celebration of our favorite springtime eats. In France, cheese is served as a main course in the winter. We melt raclette over potatoes and dunk hunks of baguette into oozy baked Mont D’Or, the warm, alpine cheeses keeping us toasty on cold nights. But once the temperature starts to rise, and we shed our winter layers, our hunger for these hearty cheeses wanes. We crave something tangier. Something brighter and lighter. We want brousse du Rove.

After a year spent refining the art of stocking, and then cooking from, our pantry – what else to do when cooped up at home? – there’s one ingredient that we are eager to evangelize about: tahini, the paste made from grinding roasted sesame seeds. It has a lot going for it: Tahini has a long shelf life, is packed with calcium, iron and Omega 3 and 6 fatty acids, and is a good source of energy. In fact, tahini has seen a comeback lately, as part of the greater attention being given to plant-based diets, together with all the various nut butters and non-dairy milks.

A former industrial center, eastern Lisbon has gained a new vibrancy of late, with old factories and decrepit warehouses made over into art galleries, restaurants and breweries. Not even the pandemic has been able to stop this development: A Praça, a marketplace connecting Lisboetas with producers from around the country, has recently set up shop in an old meat-processing plant and civil personnel canteen in the former Manutenção Militar, the industrial area of the Portuguese Army that’s now home to Hub Criativo do Beato. The project is set to open to the public later in the year but is already up and running digitally, offering many products, including fresh produce from local farmers, artisanal smoked sausages, wine, cheese and olive oil, for takeaway and delivery.

One of the tenets of the Slow Food movement is that it’s impossible to make a really good meal out of industrial food. Of course certain ingredients can pass muster with diners even if they’re grown on an industrial farm. Yet sustainable farming has an obvious impact – it’s not just a matter of better tasting and healthier food but also environmental and societal benefits. In Barcelona, we are surrounded by a large number of independent, sustainable producers that, too often, are completely invisible. They work in nearby provincial areas such as El Prat, El Penedès, El Vallès, El Garraf and El Maresme that give forth a veritable cornucopia of food goods: vegetables, fruits, nuts, legumes, olive oil, cheese, marmalades, cereals, flours, honey, meat, fish, wine, vermut, beer and more. These producers work hard every day to remain independent and adhere to stringent standards of sustainability and quality.