Whenever I hear Annie Lennox singing, “Sweet dreams are made of this, who am I to disagree,” I like to think she’s looking at a bowl of pumpkin doughnuts. I’m sure she never heard of sonhos, but let me explain. Traditionally, the Portuguese consume huge amounts of sugar and cakes at Christmas time, from the Bolo-Rei (a circular cake with nuts and candid fruit) to broas (small cakes, sweet and moist usually baked with sweet potato or corn flour), arroz doce (rice pudding), azevias (a fried pastry with a chickpea or sweet potato filling) and lampreias de ovos (an odd-looking lamprey fish made of egg yolks and sugar). But during this sugar overdose between Christmas and the New Year, the deep fried sonhos (literally “dreams” in Portuguese) are my favorite.

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.

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.

“Where to eat in Porto?” Google search this sequence of five words and a multitude of articles listing restaurants and eateries will naturally come up as a result. Some of those suggestions – the trustworthy ones, at least – will mention Casa Nanda. It’s a fair choice: Casa Nanda is, indeed, one of the most traditional and historic joints in town. What most listings won’t mention, though, is that the couple who founded it and were its driving force are now working somewhere else.

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.

This autumn Nepali Bhanchha Ghar (Bahn-sah Gar) became the first two-time winner of New York City’s annual Momo Crawl. Early one afternoon, more than a thousand event goers fanned out from the block-long, pedestrian-only Diversity Plaza, at the western edge of Jackson Heights, and called on dozens of nearby restaurants, cafés, trucks and carts. Each dished out at least one style of momo, a filled dumpling best-known from Tibet and Nepal. Several hours later, after momo-crawlers had returned to the plaza and the popular vote had been tallied, Yamuna Shrestha, the owner of Nepali Bhanchha Ghar, once again proudly raised the Momo Belt high. The decorated yak-hide belt returned to its glass case, mounted on the back wall of the upstairs dining area, where it overlooks an open kitchen and a handful of tables.

Bios in Athens’ Keramikos neighborhood officially opened in 2003, but it all began two years earlier, when the Bios Cultural Organization was first founded as an audiovisual, electronic music festival held in various warehouses near central Athens. Following his instincts, Vassilis Charalambidis, the founder of Bios, decided to refurbish a beautiful Bauhaus-style building right on the corner of Pireos and Salaminos streets to give the festival and organization a permanent home. This innovative project had an immense impact on Athens, and very soon Bios became a kind of landmark and meeting point for creative young Athenians with an inquiring mind and a special love for their city. Its main goal over the past 25-odd years has been to promote contemporary arts, new technologies and creative, free thinking.

Home to countless immigrant stories, Queens is the most diverse borough in New York City, with over two million people, half of whom were born outside the United States. So it’s no surprise that the area’s markets – some sprawling, many more pocket-sized – are equally as diverse, serving immigrant communities both old and new. We recently sent out New York-based photographer Melanie Einzig to document fall’s bounty at five of the borough’s diverse marketplaces. Her visual harvest can be found below.

In the early 18th century, before there was the Spinning Jenny, the Cotton Gin and the steam engine, a new machine was making waves in Gragnano, the grain capital of the Kingdom of Two Sicilies. It was the torchio, the pasta extruder. And it would radically and permanently change the diet of Italy. Just beyond Naples, the ancient Roman town of Gragnano, whose very name indicates an abundance of grain, was tentatively beginning to mechanize the production of dried pasta, theretofore a luxurious oddity throughout the Italian peninsula. Local entrepreneurs gradually capitalized on what their forbearers had known for several millennia – not only was Gragnano ideally situated due to its storied cultivation of durum wheat and semolina, but it also offered access to thirty water mills. Perhaps even more curiously Gragnano offered something very rare at the time: the perfect air for drying pasta.

The sensation of entering A Cozinha do Manel (“Manel’s Kitchen”) in Porto is so similar to entering grandma’s house on Sunday that it almost confuses us. There is no one to greet you at the door, no cloth napkins folded over employees’ arms. We walk confidently, as we would at home, with the sense of comfort that only intimacy is capable of inspiring. From the wall, among the many clocks, vintage plates and drawings made on cloth napkins by customers with an artistic bent, dozens of familiar faces look back at us. They are actors, musicians, politicians and soccer stars all standing next to Zé António, the owner and manager – a confirmation of the restaurant’s popularity.

A guest arriving at a Greek home should expect an overwhelming array of traditional welcoming treats that will be presented upon their arrival, from coffee and cookies, to cakes, homemade liqueurs, loukoumi and more. But there’s one sweet something that has long been linked with hospitality and welcoming in any proper, traditional Greek home: glyko tou koutaliou, or “spoon sweet,” a type of fruit preserve whose roots go way back to ancient times. For centuries, preservation was a necessary part of the harvest – it was the only way to make excess fresh fruits and vegetables last for as long as possible.

“The moment we were born, the moment we entered the world, so many people were happy. Our mothers, fathers, relatives; the doctor who delivered us, the nurses that helped; maybe some guys hanging out with our fathers said ‘Cheers!’ or ‘Congratulations!’ and patted our dads on the back. So many people and we don’t even know their names, who they were. Let’s drink to all those people who were happy that we were born – that with this toast we can say ‘thank you’ to them.” The year was 2001, and I had just crossed the border from Turkey into Georgia with my partner, Justyna. The Batumi train to Tbilisi had been roasting under the blistering June sun all day. Boarding with heavy backpacks, we were instantly pummeled with the grim reality that the windows of these Soviet-born wagons were all sealed shut; save for one in the middle, just big enough for three heads to poke out, panting for air.

The Robles family has sold tortas in downtown Mexico City for over 70 years, earning generations of devoted customers. But this year could be its last. Their story begins in 1940s Mexico City, at the intersection of Doctor Mora and Juárez Avenue, the southwestern corner of the Alameda Central. Diego Rivera immortalized the famous park, the first of its kind in Mexico City, in a 1947 mural, imagining over 100 seminal figures from Mexican history strolling through the grounds. On a sunny summer morning at Tortas Robles in Centro Histórico, Guadalupe Robles points to a photograph from that same year, 1947. The photo captures her father, Alejandro Robles, leaning over the cart from which he sold tortas.

It used to be that when you paid an unexpected visit to a Greek household, you would almost surely be offered a gelatinous and aromatic sweet called loukoumi – a little pillowy bite covered in powdered sugar. Likewise, a coffee at kafeneia, Greek coffee shops, used to be accompanied by a loukoumi, as the sugary treat complimented the dark brew. While loukoumi is not as commonplace nowadays, it is still a beloved treat in Greek homes, for it’s sweet enough to satisfy sugar cravings, but simple enough – the basic ingredients are water, sugar and starch – to be relatively low-calorie. And even if it’s not as popular as it used to be, it has certainly had a lasting impact: consider that the word “loukoumi” is used in the Greek language to mean something delicious in general, whether a nicely roasted piece of meat, a coveted object or a beautiful woman.

Each year in late summer, some of the best athletes on the planet converge on Flushing Meadows Corona Park to compete in the United States Open Tennis Championships. In 2018, the U.S. Open begins with practice sessions and qualifier matches on Tuesday, August 21, and concludes with the men’s singles final, scheduled for Sunday, September 9. The tournament site does provide hungry fans with several cafés and casual bar-restaurants as well as a pair of “food villages.” But when in Queens – where some of the best food in the city is so close at hand – why would we confine ourselves to the boundaries of the tennis center? To energize ourselves beforehand or wind down afterward, here are a few of our favorite nearby dining destinations.