In Rio, there’s a saying, “And once again, suddenly it’s Carnival.” It’s a joke, of course – as if Carnival didn’t occupy cariocas’ minds a significant part of the year. But the truth is that, in a way, this is precisely what’s going on right now in the “Wonderful City.” Official Carnival events begin in two weeks, but the samba shows, parties, feasts and merriment are everywhere. Suddenly, it’s already Carnival. And this early Carnival mood expresses itself better every year at the samba schools’ rehearsals for the official parades, which are scheduled to begin on February 24. From next Thursday until then, at least 15 parties will take place at the most important samba schools’ headquarters, as well as in the Sambadrome – Rio’s main parade zone – itself.

A gloppy, meaty, cheesy brick served in a pool of sauce and with a mountain of fries: please meet the francesinha, the culinary pride and joy of the city of Porto. Today, restaurant billboards proclaim in many languages that they serve the best version in the world, revealing the genuine power of this artery-clogging combination that, incredibly, was originally conceived as a snack. We have to say it though: eating a francesinha is worth every last calorie. This dense sandwich, which is impossible to eat just with your hands, is often considered the lusophone version of the croque monsieur.

What is it that’s so dizzyingly addictive about okonomiyaki? It might be the interactive DIY nature of building your own meal and serving it up from a Japanese teppan grill. Perhaps it’s the communal feeling of sitting around with a beer or two and cooking together. However, most likely is the fact that it’s so darn delicious and satisfying. It’s Japanese soul food that has somehow not quite reached the shores of many foreign countries. Okonomiyaki is a flavorful pancake chock full of whatever ingredients appeal, cooked on a Japanese grill (okono means “cook whatever you like” and yaki means grill). In all parts of Japan it's the secret second cousin to ramen in the family of fast food and cheap student eats.

Portugal may be known for its abundance of wines, but beer also has a centuries-old history here, with production rooted in local traditions. It’s a story that has quietly been forgotten, but it seems like now is the right moment for a revival. Portugal’s beer landscape has since the 1940s been dominated by the Sagres-Super Bock duopoly, whose common lagers are nothing to write home about. Created out of a merger between previously competing associations, these two new brands (grouped under Central de Cervejas e Unicer) had a huge impact on Portuguese beer habits. The new industrial focus on a simple and standard product effectively wiped out hyper-local hops culture.

Once upon a time, three brothers decided to immigrate. They left their hometown, an extremely poor city called Canindé, in the northeastern state of Ceará, went to Rio de Janeiro and started working in construction. They built a lot of brick walls, ceilings and roofs. Then, after two years of hard work, they decided to open a bar where they would sell roast chicken, northeastern food and grilled pork ribs. That bar, officially called Roda Viva, became known as Três Porquinhos (Three Little Pigs) when a customer connected the image of the three brothers working together with the classic children’s tale.

Cities experiencing rapid urban transformation often find themselves suspended between past and future, with those respective cultures in close juxtaposition. The Santa Apolonia train station, a simple neoclassical building from the 19th century that once served as Lisbon’s central rail hub, is a good example of this; a visit to its north and south sides reveal different routines, atmospheres and of course, flavors. On the waterfront, a few former dock warehouses are the home of gourmet palates. Cais da Pedra, the project of the famous chef Henrique Sá Pessoa, is a modern restaurant decorated in stone, iron and mirrors.

Visitors to Istanbul's iconic Spice Bazaar encounter a place packed wall-to-wall with overzealous shopkeepers selling everything from saffron to sumac assembled in rows of majestic pyramids at slightly inflated prices. But for our money, the only spices worth a damn are found just outside in a humbler setting. Crammed behind a tiny kiosk perched in front of a fast-food restaurant that flanks one of the bazaar's entrances is the endearing Orhan usta. The loveable 65-year-old is a veritable master of çig köfte and a connoisseur of the spicy red pepper flakes cultivated in his hometown of Gaziantep, the southeastern city considered by many to be Turkey's culinary capital.

Sake is a very deeply ingrained part of Japanese culture and its function is everything from ceremonial to social. It might be surprising then to know that there are remarkably few establishments in Tokyo dedicated to simple sake tasting. This is perhaps because the roots of public sake drinking stretch back to the 1800s, when sake was bought directly from a seller and often consumed on the premises with bits of food. Back then, people stood next to sake kegs and enjoyed the brew, eventually turning crates and barrels on their sides and sitting to enjoy their drinks. Food was soon added and the izakaya was born (a sakaya is a place to purchase sake, and the “i-“ prefix means “to stay.”).

What's better than a day at the beach? How about a day at the beach followed by fresh seafood and a cold beer in a vibrant neighborhood with views to boot? Bar do David sits on a busy corner in Rio's Chapéu Mangueira, a favela that overlooks the beaches of Leme and Copacabana. On a recent Sunday afternoon, the bar's two floors and outdoor area were packed with locals and tourists noshing on plates ranging from feijoada de mariscos, a white-bean and seafood take on the classic Brazilian bean stew, to the Estrela do David (Star of David), pineapple-mint pork rib tacos.

The oldest city in Western Europe, once the hub of a trading empire that connected Macau in the east to Rio de Janeiro in the west, Lisbon today feels staunchly Old World European, a sleepy town of nostalgic storefronts and scenic churches. But that’s only its façade.

Beyond the bustling districts of the centro, Lisbon’s port and the old neighborhoods clustered around it have always had a close connection with the waterfront and its industries, especially fishing. The city’s iconic varinas, itinerant fish vendors, lived and worked on the streets here until quite recently, selling their goods from a basket hoisted on their heads.

The oldest city in Western Europe, once the hub of a trading empire that connected Macau in the east to Rio de Janeiro in the west, Lisbon today feels staunchly Old World European, a sleepy town of nostalgic storefronts and scenic churches. But that’s only its façade.

Though ceramic dishes or tinned sardines are the standard take-home souvenirs for visitors to Lisbon, a less traditional – but still unique – gift from the city is the source of the warming aroma that permeates its cafés morning, noon and night. A strong bica (espresso) is an integral part of Lisbon’s smellscape, and the few chimneystacks in sight over peripheral skylines reveal that there are still local businesses providing beans to restaurants and traditional stores here. Consuming this product, which has a long history, is deeply embedded in the city’s day-to-day, but cultural shifts (today it is quaffed more at the bar rather than at home), means many of the old coffee shops are now obsolete.

We’ve raved about the Shanghai-style soup dumplings at Fu Chun for years now, but let us let you in on a secret: There’s more to this tiny hole-in-the-wall than its xiaolongbao. Since 1959, the restaurant has been serving up benbang dishes, but little has changed on the menu or in the kitchen. A Huaiyang snack shop, Fu Chun admittedly skews Shanghainese in its regional flavor profile, which means extra sugar and a lot of pork. Try the traditional deep-fried pork cutlet (炸猪排, zhà zhūpái). Pounded thin before hitting the deep fryer, these fatty flanks are served sliced with a side of black rice vinegar – a dip helps cut the grease.

One of our most exciting discoveries this year was Yılmaz Tandır Evi in Istanbul's Feriköy neighborhood, where many people from the eastern Anatolian province of Erzincan have settled over the years. Yılmaz İngeç, a native of Erzincan's İliç district, serves only the finest ingredients from his hometown, including fresh honey, kavurma and tulum peynir, a salty, crumbly cheese aged in goatskin. A simple serving of fried eggs topped with tulum was a match made in heaven, perhaps our favorite breakfast this year. We were thrilled to stumble upon a secluded slice of the Black Sea province of Trabzon right here on the Asian side of Istanbul earlier this fall.