Sweets can stir up feelings and evoke memories of particular times of the year in a way that other foods can’t. This is particularly true in Naples, where there is a dessert for every holiday: struffoli (small fried dough balls doused in honey) and cassata (sponge cake with ricotta and candied fruit) call to mind lively and colorful Christmas celebrations, while the pastiera (a cake filled with ricotta cheese, eggs and custard) reminds us of the exuberance of Easter. While those sweets are certainly indulgent, they don’t hold a candle to chiacchiere (a sweet crispy pastry sprinkled with powdered sugar) and sanguinaccio (black chocolate pudding), which immediately bring to mind the most eccentric and unruly party of the year: Carnival.

Tbilisi stores and markets are festooned now with distinctive sausage-shaped candies called churchkhela, ready for New Year celebrations and then Orthodox Christmas on January 7. They are a very traditional Georgian specialty, usually homemade from grape juice thickened with flour and nuts. But those aren’t the only ingredients you need to make churchkhela – they also require some serious muscle. How could it be otherwise for a food created by Georgian warriors as a sugar hit that wouldn’t perish on a long march? It was, in other words, one of the world’s earliest energy bars. “We still do it the same way as our ancestors,” says Khatuna Saalishvili, as we watch her and her husband, Temuri, start the process in their backyard in the village of Kisiskhevi. A wood fire heats a large metal cauldron filled with the mix of grape juice and flour known as tatara. The steam shines in the winter sun.

The debate rages on: which are Greece’s best traditional Christmas cookies, kourambiedes or melomakarona? Amongst our friends and family, moist, honey-soaked melomakarona win out over the crumbly, butter-rich almond kourambiedes. The word “melomakarona” is a combination of meli, which means “honey,” and makaronia, which comes from the ancient Greek word makaria (μακαρία), meaning “blessed” (and having nothing to do with the Italian pasta with the Greek name “macaroni”). Long ago, the makaria was a piece of oval-shaped bread made for a funerary dinner to bless the dead. Later on, the makaria was soaked in honey and became known as melomakarono (the singular form of the word; these cookies are also called finikia by some).

Truth be told, we’re often not impressed with traditional holiday gift guides. They’re either littered with undisclosed affiliate links or seemingly endless lists (much like our holiday to-dos) that make us want to turn off the computer and hibernate until the end of January. So, what makes our gift guide different? It’s a highly-selective (and relatively short) list of products that our correspondents and guides eat and use. Many of them are featured in stories that we’ve published, and we worked our hardest to connect you directly with producers – while we weren’t always successful, we did manage to avoid Amazon entirely (and no affiliate links in sight).

Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead), or at least some variation of it, has been an annual celebration in Mexico for over 3,000 years. During the Aztec period, it took the form of a festival in August dedicated to Mictecacihuatl, otherwise known as the Lady of the Dead. Today it is one of Mexico’s most colorful holidays, encompassing popular traditions both old and new. To the Aztecs, death was nothing to be feared; it was but a passage and a continuation to the next level of consciousness. Life was viewed as a state of dreaming and death was when someone was truly awakened from their slumber. The Aztecs’ monthlong festival was meant to honor those who had passed on and to entice their souls to visit once more.

For a few weeks during June, large swathes of Lisbon turn into one extended outdoor cookout. It’s the festival of Santo António, Lisbon’s favorite local saint, and the city celebrates his memory by way of grilling up copious amounts of sardines, so much so that during this period the scent of sizzling fish rolls through the streets of the city’s historic neighborhoods like a bank of fishy fog. In these old-time neighborhoods, the festival also provides residents a chance to play caterer to the masses, with seemingly every local with a halfway decent charcoal grill setting up shop outside their home and grilling sardines for the revelers partying in the streets. The whole scene is a complete departure from the more staid rest of the year and it often feels as if these neighborhood grillers live for just this time, allowing them to play the role of guardians of Lisbon’s most important social tradition.

On the night of June 22, a fire is lit at the top of Canigó mountain in the Pyrenees. All through the night, hundreds of volunteer torchbearers carry the flame to towns and villages throughout the four provinces of Catalonia. The arrival of the flame the next day signals the start of the Revetlla de Sant Joan (St. John’s Eve celebration). Bonfires, firecrackers and fireworks light up the night, and people while away the hours drinking, eating and dancing in public squares and beaches or at parties. Fire, noisemaking and dancing are the main ingredients of St. John’s Eve, the Christian adaptation of ancient pagan celebrations of the summer solstice.

In past centuries, ones of economic hardship, Neapolitans’ ancestors feasted only during religious holidays. It was easier then to distinguish the piatti delle feste, feasting foods, by their richness and variety. In these more prosperous times, and with the availability of raw materials throughout the year, these lavish dishes can be prepared or purchased virtually any time, which makes it seem difficult to talk about “festive meals.” However, with the approach of Easter (and Christmas), many Neapolitans, beyond their religious beliefs, are seized by an irresistible desire to return to family traditions and to eat the dishes prepared by their forebears.

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.

The godzilla-sized tree of lights is up on Freedom Square and a gazillion more streamers of lights twinkle for eight kilometers down Tbilisi’s main drag, a clear, impressive indication the holiday season is upon us once again. The best thing about celebrating Christmas here is that tradition does not require us to buy a bunch of stuff for people that they don’t need. In Georgia, the real meaning of Christmas is indulgence in the gastronomic sense. Birthdays notwithstanding, the first feast of the season is on December 17, Saint Barbara’s Day. Being an Orthodox Christian country, the December 25 is only celebrated by expats and those Georgians looking for an excuse to feast.

It’s a mid-week spring day in Tbilisi and we have joined Dali Berdzenishvili and her family for a special picnic lunch. There’s a zesty looking spread covering most of a yellow and blue tablecloth: heaps of khachapuri (cheese bread), blinchiki (meat rolls), sliced meats and sulguni cheese, salads, a trademark Georgian dish of pickled greens known as jonjoli, a bowl of strawberries and a few slices of leftover Easter paska cake. For drinks, there are several bottles of semi-sweet red and a bottle of homemade grape juice. Dali says her late husband, Zviad, loved a picnic like this. And it is Zviad who brings them all here – because they are eating next to his grave.

Lantern Festival (元宵, yuánxiāo, or “first night”) is the 15th day of the Chinese New Year, and marks the last day of Spring Festival. This “first night” is actually the first full moon of the lunar new year, and in the Year of the Monkey it falls on February 22. On this holiday, it’s customary for revelers to light red lanterns, and in Shanghai, revelers typically head to Yu Gardens, a busy central location known for its Lantern Festival entertainment. Those looking to avoid the crowds at Yu Gardens may head instead to the International Magic Lantern Carnival taking place near the Mercedes-Benz Arena in Pudong, where innovative lighting displays take over an area the size of 30 football fields (with an entrance fee). But one of the most important ways of celebrating the holiday involves food – specifically, the sweet stuffed dumplings called tāngyuán (汤圆).

In the anything-goes lead-up to Lent, Carnival in Rio is as much about public inebriation and bawdy public displays of affection as it is about extravagant costumes and entertainment. It’s also a time when freelance moneymakers can largely evade municipal guards by dressing up in costumes as fanciful as any carnivalgoer while they sell their homemade alcoholic concoctions unlicensed. Carnival is early this year – Ash Wednesday is February 10 – which means the city’s sinning is in full swing from now onward. Culinary Backstreets scouted out some of the alternative alcohol options you’ll find on the streets this time of year, ones both classic to hundreds of themed street-party blocos and some that seem to be one-of-a-kind offers.

While much of the West celebrates Christmas in an orgy of shopping for presents that climaxes after a single dinner, Georgians commemorate the season with a 30-day binge of feasts that pretty much begins on December 17, Saint Barbara’s Day (Barbaroba), and peters out by January 19, the Orthodox Epiphany (Natlisgeba). Unlike Americans, Georgians don’t consume stuff for the holidays – they annihilate food. The best, if not most chaotic, place to stock up on victuals is the Dezertirebi Bazroba (“Deserter’s Bazaar”). Located near Tbilisi’s central train station, this raw, disorganized, 2,000-square-meter warren of unprocessed agrarian pabulum is the city’s largest open-air market.

In Mexico, Epiphany (or Día de Reyes, in commemoration of the Three Magi’s visit to the baby Jesus), celebrated on January 6, offers an opportunity to extend the Christmas season. Mexican kids go to bed early on January 5, expecting to find gifts next to the Nativity scene the following morning. The traditional way to celebrate this holiday is by eating rosca de reyes ("kings’ cake"), an anise-scented, ring-shaped cake or sweet bread decorated with slices of candied fruit.