Like so many other Greek specialties, bougatsa has a long history, in this case one that stretches all the way back to Byzantine times. Bougatsa is mainly a breakfast pie with a phyllo pastry made of flour, softened butter and oil that requires a great deal of skill to prepare. This pie is made and enjoyed all around Greece, but particularly famous are those made in northern Greece, especially in Thessaloniki and Serres. Turkish börek is a close relation, and similar pies are traditional to many eastern Balkan countries that were formally part of the Ottoman Empire. The tradition of bougatsa making really took off around Greece in the early 1920s with the arrival of the Greek refugees from Asia Minor and Cappadocia.

It doesn’t matter how early you show up to the Black Salami Microbakery – there’s always a line. Even right at 9 a.m., when the gates have just been pulled up, tourists and locals alike are waiting for fresh, flaky sandwiches and crusty loaves of bread. Clean, sleek, and cool, with funky marbled counters like a refrigerator mosaic cake, the bakery floods with light on sunny days, illuminating a display case filled with breakfast and lunch options. This is one of a number of new spots that have popped up in the Exarchia neighborhood recently. It’s also part of a transformation the neighborhood has been seeing for some time now – one that has accelerated in the past year, as the city’s newest metro line raises questions about the pros and cons of opening a major transit station in the main square.

Pies, sweet and savory, constitute a massive chapter of traditional Greek cuisine, and are also a timeless popular street food all across the nation. Most classic Greek pie shops tend to open early in the morning, as pies are popular for breakfast, and close in the afternoon, usually after they have sold out for the day. That’s why Ta Stachia, a small shop in Exarchia, stands out – an after-hours pie shop, it runs steadily throughout the night, not only feeding all the pub crawlers and nighthawks, but also staying open until about noon for the early birds who walk their dogs or set off for work or school.

“Those who don’t know Etienne, don’t know Marseille,” insists a French weekly in a piece about the cult pizzeria. They were raving about both place, Chez Etienne, and person, the enigmatic Etienne Cassaro, who transformed the worker’s canteen his Sicilian dad opened in 1943 into a local institution that endures today. Though Etienne’s light went out in 2017, his son, Pascal, continues to carry the family torch – alongside a long-standing staff who have been there for decades. Aptly located in the equally mythical Le Panier quartier, Chez Etienne is home-style cooking served in a homey setting. Inside a convivial room divided by stone archways, the tables are packed with regulars, tourists and politicians from nearby city hall (including Mayor Gaudin) who tuck their ties in their shirt to keep them from getting splattered with pizza grease.

It was Mardi Gras morning 2012, and my Hubig’s Pie was missing. On Lundi Gras (AKA “Fat Monday,” which has evolved to include traditions of its own), I had hidden it away – apple I believe, but I can’t quite recall – to serve as my breakfast before a full day of parading, revelry and maybe a little debauchery. For those not in the know, a Hubig’s is a deep-fried hand pie, with flavors like apple, lemon, peach and chocolate. They were sold by the Simon Hubig Pie Company, founded in Fort Worth in 1922 by an immigrant from the Basque region of Spain. The company then went on to open bakeries in several cities in the southeast, including New Orleans.

It was a late night in 2009 when Thanos Prunarus finished his shift at Pop, a now-shuttered bar in Athens’ historical center on the tiny Klitiou pedestrian street. He was just a few steps out the door when he spotted a “For Rent” sign taped to the front of an old, empty store. This area of Athens used to be a part of the central market, with pockets of streets specializing in selling specific categories of products like buttons, doorknobs, textiles or wool. Some of the small, ancient-seeming shops selling these goods have managed to stay open despite the big historical center development boom that’s taken place in the last decade.

Neapolitan restaurateurs hit the restart button in the year 2021. Dining has adapted to the new rules brought on by the Covid-19 pandemic – but at least we can say, at last, that we are back to having lunch in a restaurant. I missed sharing the experience of the restaurant so much. Sitting next to a stranger and breaking bread together. Making new friends and meeting old ones. Socializing. The trattorias and cafeterias where moments like these are possible are the places I pray for each night. That they will survive another month, another possible lockdown. Watching some of these close was a very hard blow, but there is something in the air again, something starting up. Naples is once again filled with tourists and there is a need, an urge, to be social once more.

Back in our college days, in the mid 2000s in Mexico City, we spent hours talking with our fellow students about the foods we missed the most from home. When we, the “Oaxacan delegation,” brought up piedrazos, everyone in the room laughed. They could not fathom something with such a name – piedrazo literally means to be hit with a hard stone in Spanish – as being edible. We had no idea that our beloved snack, a true classic in Oaxaca, was totally unfamiliar to the rest of our friends. A piedrazo is a piece of very, very hard crunchy bread (hence the name) with pickled carrot, onions and potatoes, dunked in a fruit- and chile-based vinegar and dusted with chile powder and – if you’re feeling fancy – quesillo (fresh Oaxacan cheese).

“Pizza’s always been a part of my life,” asserts Dave Acocella, the resident dough wizard at Philomena’s in Sunnyside – and he is hardly exaggerating. “I used to cut school growing up in New Jersey to go to Joe’s Pizza on Carmine Street. What a great slice,” he adds. We think it would be more appropriate to say that for Dave, pizza is life. When we ask him what is the greatest thing about owning a pizza shop, he answers, without skipping a beat, “Getting to eat my pizza, of course.” Pizza is a humble food, consisting of seemingly simple ingredients: dough, sauce and cheese. Great pizza, according to Dave, is “when all the elements are in harmony – sauce, cheese and dough all working together.”

In France, the poissoneries (fish markets) are often decorated in a palette of blue to evoke the sea while boucheries and charcuteries are blood red. Rouge, the color of meat, pops up on tile walls, around deli counters and on awnings above shop windows so that customers can spot their meat purveyors from afar. That was the case at Maison Payany, an artisan charcutier in Marseille’s 6th arrondissement, until its new owner gave it a fresh coat of pink. Marie Caffarel took over Maison Payany in the spring of 2019. Despite the unorthodox paint job, in many ways she has upheld the traditions of this neighborhood institution, which prior to her arrival had been run by three generations of Payany men since 1932.

The commencement of Greek carnival (καρναβάλι), also called Apokries (απόκριες), begins a three-week period during which almost anything goes: feasting, dancing, singing and freedoms of all sorts. Apokries has the same meaning as its Latin counterpart, Carnival, which translates roughly as “farewell to meat” – these are the last days of eating meat before Lent, or Sarakosti, the 40 days of fasting before Easter Sunday, begins. It’s a celebration deeply rooted in ancient Greece, primarily the celebration of Anthesteria, an important festivity that took place during the same season and was particularly big in ancient Athens. Dedicated to the god Dionysus, it was both a joyous occasion of non-stop revelry and also a commemoration of the dead, whom they believed joined the world of the living on these days.

Pies, both sweet and savory, are an essential component of the Greek cuisine. Each region in the country usually has several different takes on pita (πίτα, or pie, the plural being πίτες, or pites), which is enclosed either in pastry, most commonly phyllo, or using a different method that bypasses pastry altogether. Besides the fillings, the variation in pie recipes around Greece mostly comes down to the kinds of phyllo used: its ingredients and the technique of rolling it out. Then there’s also the question of how the phyllo is assembled or wrapped around the filling, before the pie is finally baked, fried or even grilled.