“I still don’t know where the siphon bottles for the vermut are,” says an employee of Marina, a small bar in the newly renovated Mercat de Sant Antoni. It’s clear as we’re walking around that the staff of the market’s few bars and its many vendors are still settling in and adapting to their brand new spots. At the same time, hundreds of visitors have been exploring the revamped market each day since its opening last week asking, “Where can we eat or drink something?” So far, that seems to be the question on everyone’s mind, particularly locals. But this is not another food hall, this is a proper neighborhood market focused on selling quality fresh produce and other food product

From the street, Café Lamas looks almost intentionally nondescript. A fluorescent-lit bar with a glass case of snacks and a few metal chairs would make it identical to any other lanchonete (snack bar) across the city, if it weren’t for the shadowy doorway behind the bar’s aisle. Behind that door awaits a blast from the past. Café Lamas is Rio de Janeiro’s oldest restaurant – a respectable 138 years old in a city that is rapidly putting on a new face as it buzzes with Olympic, hotel and condominium construction – and the place radiates a sense of history and tradition. Bow-tied waiters politely bend as guests enter the dining room, which is dimly illuminated by lamps on ornate cast-iron mounts.

A visit to a pastelaria in Lisbon in the lead up to Easter brings with it new surprises. Alongside the usual pastries and cakes, you’ll spot folares, loaves of sweet bread, some topped with hardboiled eggs, and many surrounded by a colorful assortment of almonds. This type of bread, which contains ingredients forbidden during Lent, has long been associated with Easter and the feasting that occurs on this holiday. “After the winter months and the long fast during Lent, the Easter brings an intense activity in terms of culinary preparations and the exchange of cakes, namely the folares,” writes Mouette Barboff in her book A Tradição do Pão em Portugal (Bread in Portugal).

There’s one thing about the very popular Copacabana bar Pavão Azul that remains a mystery, even after 60-odd years of business: its name. Pavão azul means “blue peacock” in Portuguese, but even the owners don’t know where this curious name come from. Some customers who have been frequenting the bar since it opened in the 1950s say that it was named after the bar in the movie “Casablanca” – except that that place was actually called the Blue Parrot. What’s not a mystery is the bar’s popularity. Once just a regular old botequim – a small bar serving simple food – Pavão Azul was discovered by food critics thanks to its patanisca.

‘Tis the season of the Japanese New Year’s trinity: osechi, oseibo and nengajo. Like newsy Christmas cards, the nengajo is a recap of family or personal news mailed in postcards during the weeks preceding the end of the year and efficiently delivered all over Japan promptly on January 1. The winter gift-giving season is in full swing, with companies and individuals sending oseibo gifts as thank-you expressions for kindnesses over the year. Most gifts are food or household items like cooking oil or soap. The best of the traditions is osechi ryori, traditional New Year’s cuisine. Osechi is not something one can find in a restaurant because it’s eaten only one time a year, at home or when visiting others at home.

In the middle of the last century, upwardly mobile Afro-Brazilians were vexed by the city’s segregated social scene. Even as they became lawyers and doctors and had the purchasing power to buy into some of the city’s finer establishments, the social clubs of the city, where a carioca could dance, play sports and mingle, would turn a cold shoulder to them. Black professionals hardly wanted to shell out money to face discrimination. That’s when Renascença Clube – “Rebirth Club” – came about. Middle-class Afro-Brazilians started their own social club, first in the blue-collar neighborhood Meier in 1951. They rented the best orchestras in town to see if anyone would come to their bailes.

Matosinhos, a small city just north of Porto, is used to change. It has an industrial air to it, due to its 19th-century harbor, and its past prosperity was connected to the fish-canning sector, which peaked during World War II and declined from the beginning of the 70s. The numerous abandoned warehouses attracted nightlife during the 1990s, with clubs finding a fertile zone for noise. The completion of the long-delayed tidal pool, built by Portugal's starchitect, Alvaro Siza (who was born in the city), put it firmly on the map again after the project was delayed for decades. In January, the launch of the new, spiralling cruise ship terminal added to the contemporary design-y feel that has been developing on its otherwise rugged coastline.

When Leyla Kılıç Karakaynak opened up a tiny restaurant on Kallavi Street in Istanbul's Beyoğlu district in 1996, she couldn't have predicted that she would end up practically running the whole street. That small restaurant, Fıccın, is now spread across six buildings on the same block-long pedestrian-only street and has become an Istanbul institution. The restaurant shares its name with its signature dish, a meat-filled savory pastry that is among the Circassian specialties on the menu. Karakaynak's family hails from North Ossetia, and while Fıccın serves up a number of classic Turkish staples, it's the regional dishes that you can't miss, including Çerkez tavuğu, a simple yet sumptous paste of shredded chicken and walnuts, and Çerkes mantısı, comforting, pillowy dumplings served under yogurt.

Like the Proustian madeleine, sweets can stir up all kinds of feelings in the minds of those who eat them. In Naples, struffoli (small, round doughnuts glazed with honey) and cassata (sponge cake with ricotta and candied fruit) speak of Christmas, while chiacchiere (sugar-dusted fritters) and sanguinaccio (literally “blood pudding,” but actually made of chocolate) bring to mind Carnevale. And then there’s pastiera, whose very scent and taste make us think of Easter and spring. These days, pastiera can be made all year long, not only when the wheat has just sprouted, as was the case for our ancestors. Yet, when Easter approaches, all Neapolitans dream of this tart.

The weather is turning cold and Japan’s convenience stores, or konbini, have hauled out the oden service pans and positioned them next to the cashier counters. For those not familiar with oden, the sight of assorted flotsam and jetsam afloat in a clear broth and the fishy aroma impinging on their space while paying for a soft drink or chewing gum might seem puzzling. For those who love oden, though, it’s a happy reminder that there will be many ways to enjoy this hearty dish – a kind of hotpot that contains a pantry's worth of ingredients in a light broth – as winter unfolds. A good way to enjoy the best quality oden is at odenya restaurants, which specialize in this Japanese staple.

Editor’s note: Alfonso Cuarón’s film “Roma,” set in Mexico City between 1970 and 1971, is expected to win big at the Oscars this weekend – it’s up for ten awards. To celebrate the movie’s success, we’re republishing our 2013 review of La Casa del Pavo, where the main character, Cleo, goes to have a sandwich with her co-worker on their day off and meet up with their boyfriends. Not only is this spot one of the few from the film that is still in business, it is almost completely unchanged. The bird that holds pride of place at the Thanksgiving table has just as important a role south of the border. Turkey has actually been a fundamental part of Mexican cooking for centuries: The Aztecs had domesticated the fowl before they had even laid eyes on a chicken.

Neapolitan cuisine is an impure thing, the result of culinary influences from every part of the old continent. One of the most famous dishes this cross-pollination has produced is the Neapolitan potato gattò, a potato tortino rustico (a tall, square cake) with layers made of mozzarella, scamorza, ham, salami and more. A baroque dish, this gattò transforms the simple potato into a true miracle of gastronomy. The word “gattò” (not to be confused with “gatto” without the accent, which means “cat” in Italian) is the Neapolitanization of the French “gateaux” (cakes). But the Neapolitan potato gattò recalls the French gateaux only in form – taste-wise, it’s very far from a sweet French cake.

Saffron may be most commonly associated with Iran, currently the world’s largest producer of this costliest of spices, but it has a long and storied history across the Mediterranean, particularly in Spain. Once an important saffron producer and trading center, Catalonia has seen a resurgence in saffron cultivation in recent years. The spice, which comes from the Crocus sativus, a fall-flowering crocus, has a long history; ancient civilizations, including the Persians, Egyptians, Greeks, Romans and more, put saffron in all sorts of foods and drinks, and also used it for medicinal purposes and as a dye. The common belief is that saffron was introduced to the Iberian Peninsula by the Moors in the 9th or 10th century.

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.

Naples has a lot of iconic eateries and shops, but one of the lesser-known city icons is the kiosk of the fresh-water-seller. Scattered throughout the city, the banks of the acquafrescai – some of which are very famous – sell various mineral waters and refreshments. These kiosks were born to provide relief in the summer months, and for that reason they are widespread in other southern Italian cities, particularly in the Sicilian cities of Palermo, Catania and Syracuse, where the coolness of a granita, a semi-frozen dessert made from sugar, water and various flavorings, counters the oppressive heat.