While meandering through a market on Istanbul’s Asian side, we spot strings of dried eggplant and peppers that will at some point in the future become extremely flavorful dolmas once they have been rehydrated and stuffed with a rice and herb mixture.

The handywork of Pasquale De Stefano, better known as Pasquale ‘o nummararo, “the number man,” can be seen all over Naples. His signs, which he hand paints on wooden boards with ancient paintbrushes, are used by food businesses and fruit and vegetable vendors across the city. On our Naples walk, we visit his workshop to chat with the master himself.

Feta must be one of the world’s oldest cheeses, it’s certainly one of the most famous, and it’s practically never missing from a Greek table, no matter the time of day. A person might grab a chunk of this chalk-white substance for breakfast, crunch through layers of feta-stuffed phyllo for elevenses, put a slab of it on her village salad for lunch, have it for supper along with a vegetable casserole and then pair it with watermelon for a scrumptious dessert. The only other food that a Greek may be even more addicted to is bread. If you were to guess which nation boasted the most cheese eaters on the planet, surely you would say France, home to so many delectable and sophisticated fromages.

On our Downtown Athens walk, we sample a few of Greece’s many native olive varieties at the city’s central market. The olive tree thrives in Greece, where the land is mostly rocky and steep and the climate hot and arid, and for millennia, olive oil has been as essential to Greek cooking as the gnarled, silver-leaved trees have been to the country’s landscape.

When it comes to Chinese dumplings, fish is likely not the first filling that springs to mind. But that’s probably because you haven’t had the chance to try Liaoning province’s specialty: boiled mackerel dumplings. Dishes from Liaoning, which is located northeast of Beijing, fall under the regional umbrella of Dongbei (northeastern) cuisine. The staple grain up north is wheat and corn, with noodles, steamed breads and dumpling wrappers supplying most of the carbs in the local diet. The area wraps around the coastline of the Yellow Sea, bringing fresh seafood to the table, and its proximity to the Korean Peninsula means an abundance of pickled veggies.

There’s something so soothing about taking refuge in a simple restaurant in the middle of a tough work day. These temples of comfort food dot Barcelona streets, with their daily specials written on a flimsy piece of paper or a blackboard. Come midday, laborers of all kinds – from blue-collar workers to executives in suits and freelancers in jeans – stream in, relaxing their minds in front of a good homey dish, one that’s free of ornamentation. In Spain, lunch is usually the main meal of the day, and most companies break for this midday meal between 2 and 4 p.m. This pause allows for a moment of spontaneous team building or a small escape; most people return to their workplace with a renewed vigor.

On our “Street Eats Breakfast” walk in Shanghai, we stop for jiānbǐng (煎饼), sometimes called Chinese crepes, flapjacks or burritos. Served up streetside on flat griddles, these millet flour pancakes are topped with scrambled eggs, cilantro, green onions and pickled mustard tubers and then slathered in umami-laden soybean paste and spicy chili flakes.

We arrived at Taberna Santo António after lunch, looking for a bit of warmth in the middle of winter. It wasn’t a shot in the dark – we already knew that we would be enveloped by a comforting hospitality at this classic Porto spot. The sun was shining, so we sat on the terrace with Pedro Brás, whose parents own Taberna Santo António. “We’ve been here for 30 years in March,” he said. And while nowadays the surrounding landscape is inviting – just around the corner is the Parque das Virtudes, where crowds congregate in the late afternoon to listen to music, chat and drink beer as the sun sets over the Douro River – that was not always the case.

On our “Market Watch” walk in Mexico City, we learn about the different ingredients that are the building blocks of Mexico’s culture and its inimitable cuisine. Like at this stall, which is offering various types of nuts, legumes and – our favorite – toasted crickets.

On our mouthwatering multi-day Georgia trip, organized in collaboration with Atlas Obscura, we explore the birthplace of wine. The trip includes a stop in the hills around Ateni for a feast and natural wine tasting at Andro Barnovi winery – Andro, our host, walks us through the winemaking process and also prepares a luscious country supper.

On our “Song of the Sea” walk in Lisbon, we visit some of the city’s best cervejaria, no-frills seafood and beer halls, where we find prized shrimp from the northern coast, the best cod cakes, percebes (the goose barnacles that are harvested from the rocky coast of Portugal) and delicious local clams.

“If you could eat one last thing before you die, what would it be?” one friend asked another. His answer came quickly: “Grilled salmon skin!” It was a conversation that happened over a couple of drinks. Many would say that these kinds of discussions, alcohol-inspired brain waves, are best left as just that: ideas to be laughed off the next day. In this case, that was not to be. The light-hearted exchange between Yuichi Kobayashi and two acquaintances inspired them to open their own izakaya (Japanese pub), serving salmon good enough to eat before you die… but on a daily basis.

It’s that time of year when armies of sakura (cherry blossom) trees in Tokyo break into bloom and people flock to parks for hanami, or cherry blossom viewing parties. While walking along the sides of Naka Meguro river, we toasted this annual rite of spring with some sparkling rosé.

While home cooks preparing food for their families are revered and restaurants occupy an important place in the social fabric, food businesses run out of individual homes often carry negative connotations in Middle Eastern societies. Many would assume that the person making these meals is jobless, uneducated, in dire need of money, or some combination of the three. But sometimes major societal changes – like, for example, a war and resulting refugee crisis – shift perceptions, and something once viewed with skepticism becomes a path forward. That is increasingly the case for Syrians in Istanbul, who have been forced to flee from their homeland and take up residence in a country where they barely know the language, culture or people.

Behind the counter at Le Bon Pain in Queens Village, more often than not, is Ghislaine Clervoix, a woman in her 80s who has owned the place for more than 30 years. Ghislaine chats in English and Haitian Creole with her regular customers, a few of whom she’s known for decades and introduces as her “old-school friends.” Diminutive loaves of French bread are the namesake of the bakery, and plenty of customers come in to buy them fresh; the Clervoix family also bakes large quantities for supermarkets around Long Island and Queens. On a recent visit, though, the signature bread seemed like an afterthought to most customers, who were clamoring for the bakery’s patties.