Mushroom hunting has an irresistible, magical pull. Composer John Cage, an avid mushroom collector, found them an integral part of his creative process, once writing: “Much can be learned about music by devoting oneself to the mushroom.” Every fall, thousands of Catalans likewise find themselves under the mushroom’s spell, following the elusive fungus’s silent melody into the woods, a rustic wicker basket in one hand and – more and more these days – a GPS-enabled smartphone in the other.

Certain global phenomena, like sushi, the mojito and the sitcom Golden Girls, might have arrived a bit late in Turkey, but as the world scrambles to go local, eat seasonally and connect with traditional culinary roots, Turkey is way ahead of the pack. Gram, chef Didem Şenol’s carefully curated locavore deli in Şişhane, feels perfectly in step with the stripped- down style that chefs from New York to New Zealand are favoring today.

Earlier in 2012, Jing’an Villas – a square, block-sized 1930s-era housing area in the heart of downtown Shanghai – survived an ironic plan that called for permanently relocating all of its 3,000-plus residents in order to better “preserve” the historic neighborhood. Luckily, the plan was shot down in a party committee meeting. For now, at least, Jing’an Villas remains the perfect setting for trying longtang cai, simple, home-style alleyway food that features local favorites.

The arrival of fall in Istanbul usually means one thing for us: hamsi season is about to begin. Hamsi, of course, are the minuscule fish (Black Sea anchovies) that Istanbulites are mad about, and the coming of fall and the cooling of the waters of the Black Sea mark the beginning of the best time of the year to eat the little suckers. In honor of hamsi season, we offer a list of six of our favorite places to try these tiny fish.

In the ’90s, as the first American burger and pizza chains began appearing all over Athens, it looked like the humble souvlaki was not the takeaway or delivery option of choice anymore. Luckily, the past 10 years have seen a huge comeback of souvlaki. Neo-souvlaki places that looked nothing like the greasy joints of the past started appearing all over Athens. The economic crisis has made the return of souvlaki even more poignant: people want cheap, tasty food more than ever, and souvlaki shops are opening up everywhere.

Dinner and a comedy routine isn’t a concept that has caught on in China. A few Sichuan restaurants feature a traditional show with the help of some loud music, a man with a flashy cape, and a mask with many thin layers that changes with a quick, hidden tug. But a Hunan restaurant? Never. At the popular neighborhood joint Hunan Xiangcun Fengwei, however, the finger-licking good food from Chairman Mao’s home province shares top billing with the subtle art of Chinglish menu translations that at first glance seem to defy explanation.

Like Clark Kent hiding his Superman tights beneath a brown suit and glasses, Klemuri maintains the appearance of a predictable Beyoğlu café – wooden tables, shelves loaded with knickknacks, Buena Vista Social Club on the stereo, spinach crepes and a crispy chicken salad on the menu. But down in the kitchen, out of public view, Klemuri’s alter ego – a spry Laz cook – is waiting to save you from another boring “café” lunch.

There’s nothing like a debate about “urban renewal” – often touted by municipal governments as a way to repurpose run-down urban areas for gentrification – to work up a good appetite. In a city like Istanbul, a teeming metropolis of 15 million people working to build a modern life among ancient ruins, these discussions seem to occur on every corn

Turkey’s take on the pizza comes in two distinct varieties. There’s the Arabesque lahmacun, a round, ultra thin-crusted snack topped with a shmear of finely ground meat and seasoning. Then there’s pide, a more substantial canoe-shaped creation that’s a specialty of Turkey’s Black Sea region.

With a menu from the frigid provinces that border Korea, Dongbei Siji Jiaozi Wang – literally, “The Four Season Dumpling King from the Northeast” – is all about hearty dishes to warm you up from the inside out. The further north you head from the Yangtze River, the more the temperate climate demands that wheat trumps rice as the staple grain, often showing up on menus as dumplings and noodles. Yet despite its eponymous claim to represent China’s Northeast, not even the Dumpling King can escape Shanghai’s astringent influence, specifically in the condiment selection. Here you dunk your boiled dumplings in vinegar and sweet chili pepper rather than the typical Northern garnish that adds soy sauce to the mix (or sometimes boldly goes it alone with no vinegar), occasionally coupled with roughly chopped garlic.

Thwap. Thwap. Thwap. “Do you hear that?” asked Sean Roberts, an expert on Uighur culture and politics and our dining companion for the day. “They’re making the lagman.”

One of China’s most ubiquitous culinary exports, Sichuan cuisine is famous for the 麻辣, or málà (mouth-numbing spice), that comes in the form of a peppercorn (花椒, huā jiāo). Prompting a tingling sensation that has been likened to licking a nine-volt battery, the lemony husk is tossed into dishes with dried chili peppers, and never more skillfully than at Yu Xin.

Inside Fatih Karadeniz Pidecisi, nothing could be heard over the crunch and crackle of fresh pide being torn open and chomped down on. Still, the man across the table from us spoke in a low, conspiratorial whisper: “There are some very well-known businessmen sitting at that table by the window. They all come here,” he said.

Colibri constitutes something of an Athenian phenomenon: what started out as a small neighborhood pizza and burger takeout place in Mets, next to Athens’ grand First Cemetery, has now evolved into three successful restaurants where people actually queue for more than half an hour to eat homemade pizzas and burgers. The menu is the same in all three places, offering simple comfort food at decent prices.

Housed in a bright pink neoclassical-style building on bustling Praxitelous Street (a road full of shops selling electrical equipment, wholesale beads and jewelry supplies), Doris has been around since 1900. It’s a traditional Athenian eatery known as a mageireio, which roughly means “cooking house” or “eating place.”