At a shopping center like this, we’d expect an ice cream parlor. In a long strip of businesses set back from the street, we spot a pharmacy, a photo lab and a dry cleaner, a mobile phone store, two eyecare shops and a cinema (“returning soon,” proclaims the marquee; “stay safe”). And our eyes take in lots of food, all of it kosher, in this predominantly Jewish area of Kew Gardens Hills: a dairy restaurant and sushi bar, a bagel-and-appetizing shop, a butcher, a Chinese restaurant, a schnitzel specialist, a pizzeria that also fries up falafel. If we hadn’t visited before, however, we’d never imagine that this particular parlor has a repertoire of more than 10,000 flavors. (Not all at once, of course.)

In Spain, the word chiringuito evokes fond memories of summers spent at the beach. While the country’s coastline is famous, chiringuito technically refers to something more beach-adjacent: the small, mostly permanent bars and restaurants that line the sandy shores. The term, which has post-colonial Caribbean roots, is relatively recent, having been used for the first time in 1949, as the name for a restaurant in Sitges, a village southwest of Barcelona (that restaurant, by the way, is still frying squid on La Ribera beach). But the tradition of eating and drinking by the beach in Spain goes back further than that. Covered wood terraces or open-air tables with fishermen grilling sardines and serving wine were widespread along the Andalucia Coast over the last couple of centuries.

From Gascogne’s prized ducks to the buckwheat gallettes of Bretagne, each chunk of France has its distinct food traditions. In Marseille, the capital of Provence, the recipes brim with the region’s olive oil, garlic and tomatoes as well as plenty of Mediterranean fish. On menus around town, you’ll find an anchoïade here or artichauts à la barigoule (braised artichokes) there, but it is hard to find a restaurant that is fully devoted to the Provençal classics. Chez Madie les Galinettes is one of the few. From alouettes sans tête (beef roll ups in tomato sauce) to soupe de poisson, the menu reads like a Marseille mamie’s (grandmother’s) cookbook. You’ll feel like you’re dining in a local’s home, thanks to the familial warmth of its ebullient owner, Delphine Roux.

Olhão in the Algarve doesn’t have the picture-perfect scenery – the beautiful rocky cliffs cascading into the sea – normally associated with the region. But this fishing town managed to avoid the overdevelopment that has plagued other fishing villages in the region, like Albufeira or Armação de Pêra, now cautionary tales of how not to approach urban planning. At the heart of Olhão’s fantastic old city center, known for its cubist architecture, is one of Portugal’s best markets. It’s divided into two large red buildings with green domed towers, a distinctive feature that defines the town, especially when seen from the water. One building sells fish and shellfish from the rich Atlantic waters while the other has fruits, vegetables, nuts, cakes and cheese from the eastern side of the Algarve.

Athens’ image as a concrete gray city with few green spaces and a lot of traffic might be hard to shake. But would you believe only 6.5km away from the bustling city center lies a beautiful, lush forest with ancient paths and Byzantine monuments – and a little canteen where you can enjoy lunch near an ancient spring? In the forest, a 30-minute walk from the Kaisariani cemetery and off the Kaisariani Monastery loop trail is a bustling picnic area and ancient spring, a well-kept secret of Athens. Come here to seek a rare moment in city life: either snacking on a wooden bench by the water, under the trees awakened by a gentle breeze or at one of the tables and chairs under grass umbrellas by a tiny stone building that serves as the forest’s canteen, Kalopoula Refreshments.

Over the past decade, it’s become increasingly difficult to find mom-and-pop-owned restaurants that serve Shanghainese classics. The local homestyle cuisine, a sub-brand of Shanghainese known as 本帮菜 (benbangcai), is often elevated and served in fine-dining environments, thanks to the city’s place as the economic capital of the country and the wealthy Shanghainese who benefit from their hometown’s prosperity. But occasionally you can still discover new hidden gems tucked away down the city’s backstreets. So when we hear about a spot we haven’t tried before, we are all ears. Like when our coworker Kelvin Ip told us about his favorite Shanghainese hole-in-the-wall just a couple blocks from the Bund.

Perched at Marseille’s northern border along the Mediterranean, the port of L’Estaque once teemed with fishermen. Starting in the 17th century, local pêcheurs would catch sardines, tuna, mackerel and poissons de roches (the rockfish that are essential to the city’s iconic bouillabaisse.) In the 1960s, these independent fishermen were swallowed up by the increase in industrial fishing, which led to a decline in the fish population – particularly sardines. Though pleasure boats now outnumber the port’s barquettes (traditional wooden fishing boats), L’Estaque’s fishing heritage hasn’t totally dried up. In 1976, Marseille’s wholesale fish market moved from the Vieux-Port to the Port du Saumaty, just south of the village. And, since 1997, L’Estaque is home to one of the city’s best fresh fish restaurants on the sea: Hippocampe.