One of the most popular kinds of restaurants in Greece is the mezedopoleio, which, as the name indicates, specializes in traditional local meze dishes (washed down with generous amounts of ouzo or other alcoholic drinks). Back in the day, mezedopoleia were the neighborhood’s meeting points. Men gathered there most of the day to drink, have a bite, talk politics and play backgammon, chess or cards. Today, the mezedopoleio remains a simple and very affordable place to eat, sometimes operating as a kafenio (cafeteria), and often offering traditional live music to add to the experience. Among Greek cities Thessaloniki is particularly famous for its numerous and excellent mezedopoleia, which makes it very difficult to choose just a few.

Watching old Greek movies from the 1950s, '60s and '70s has been a rite of passage for every single generation raised in Greece from the '80s onwards. When we were young, these movies played endlessly on TV, getting us acquainted with the Greece our parents grew up in.There were a number of things that both puzzled and delighted us – chief among them, the patisserie-as-meeting-place. The heroine, wearing a pillbox hat over expertly coiffed hair, would meet her girlfriends or potential love interest in grand-looking pastry shops, where she would be served by waiters in uniforms and eat a pasta, an individual portion of dessert: soft sponge cake with almond and cream or chocolate fillings.

Cacilhas is the waterfront area of Almada, a small city reachable via a €1.20 ferry ride from Lisbon’s Cais do Sodré terminus. The district is heavily marked by its shipbuilding past and has an industrious character that, for now, is still preserved in its food culture. Right in front of its boat station is a concentration of traditional marisqueiras, typical seafood houses from where you can glimpse a sweeping view of almost the whole of Lisbon across the other side. The seafood platter is a must in any of these traditional spots. It is usually composed of stuffed crab, spiny lobster and giant prawns, accompanied by the classic amêijoas à bulhão pato – clams cooked in garlic, coriander, pepper and olive oil.

Perched on Lisbon’s highest hilltop, Graça has a villagey feel and is probably the best district to absorb stunning views over the Portuguese capital. Home to plenty of bakeries, cafes and two of the city’s most beautiful viewpoints, it does, however, risk irreversible damage because of the real estate boom affecting much of the city center. It is, for now, still a charming area, with an elderly population and remnants of working-class neighborhood life. To get to the panoramic views during summer, there are two options that don’t involve being stuck in a taxi: climbing steeply up through the irregular lanes of Alfama or Mouraria, or following the route of the iconic and crowded tram 28.

Dear Culinary Backstreets, I keep hearing buzz about “yangmei” season in Shanghai. What’s all the fuss about this fruit? What’s in a name? Shakespeare could just as easily have written, “A yángméi (杨梅) by any other name would taste as sweet.” This little red Asian fruit has a plethora of monikers: Myrica rubra, Chinese bayberry, yamamomo, Japanese bayberry, red bayberry and waxberry. But a decade ago, the sweet and sour fruit was rebranded as the yumberry in the United States (where it is sold in juice and powder form, but not fresh, due to an import ban on the live fruit) to stand out from other exotic “superfoods.”

Glória is a crossroads of Rio de Janeiro. It’s where the beach and bayside South Zone end before you hit the historical and commercial Centro. It’s home to the storied, luxurious Hotel Glória and the working-class favela Santo Amaro, a five-minute jog away through lines of rifle-armed soldiers meant to keep crack users at bay. There’s the state archdiocese by day, and by night, a red-light zone for legally operating transvestite prostitutes. It comes as no surprise then that Glória’s weekly feira is one of the city’s most authentic and most colorful street markets. Like the vendors on foot on Rio’s beaches, would-be restauranteurs experiment at the feira before spreading their wings on the wider urban gastronomical scene.

Abílio Coelho is a generous man, offering a smile to every customer while serving each of them the most traditional drink in Lisbon: ginjinha. He has spent 44 of his 63 years behind a counter serving the libation. Ginja Sem Rival, the bar he serves it in, like the best places, is a hole-in-the-wall, and the drink is made in-house. Ginja is the actual name of the liqueur, which is made from a sour cherry of the same name. The fruit might not be so sweet but is fortunately well suited to being turned into this smooth drink, which is enjoyed both as an aperitif and digestif.

When the nationalist Kuomintang army retreated to Taiwan in 1949 after losing to Mao’s communist forces, the island experienced a sudden influx of immigrants from around Mainland China, many ripped from their homeland and moved into crowded, hastily-assembled housing complexes. These gave rise to tenement communities, called military villages (眷村, juàncūn). During the years after the war, these new immigrants kept the memory of their hometowns alive, recreating the dishes of their childhood but – out of necessity – using local ingredients and adapting the recipes. Out of this homesickness arose a new type of Taiwanese cooking called Military Village Cuisine.

Halfway between a French bistro, a Nordic café and a Spanish casa de comidas (a traditional small family-run eatery where the menu changes according to season and the market), Santa Gula is the perfect place to sin – gastronomically speaking – in Gràcia. Hidden in a small and peaceful square, Santa Gula, or Saint Gluttony, is truly heaven amid Avinguda Diagonal’s commercial buzz. This cozy restaurant with its wonderful outdoor terrace (set up in spring and summer) is without a doubt one of the neighborhood’s best well-kept secrets, attracting a crowd of faithful customers, from locals and area office workers to foodies from across the city.