You sit down for a meal with family or friends, and no one can decide what to order. Well, some can, some can’t, and it goes on for ages. The waiter stiffens when you ask one more time for her to come back. But go to the basement restaurant of Shavi Lomi in Old Tbilisi, and you have the answer for dithering relatives and pals: the gobi, or “Friends’ Bowl,” filled with a colorful selection of classic Georgian dishes. The word shares the same root as the Georgian word for “friend” – megobari – and so, of course, a gobi bowl is for sharing. It’s a big wooden bowl, filled with a mix of different dishes and as many spoons as you need.

In Argentina and Uruguay, asado – beef cooked over a parrilla, or open pit grill – is a fundamental part of local culture. On weekends, Sundays especially, grill smoke can be seen rising from backyards, rooftops and even small balconies, as well as, of course, from restaurant ventilators. Out of town, there are asados in chacras (small countryside farms) and in parks and picnic areas in forests. Asado’s defining role in these countries has existed for quite some time; it was even mentioned by Charles Darwin in his journals from 1833, when he was traveling towards Buenos Aires in the company of gauchos and native people.

Let’s say you have only two or three days in Rio. You want to experience a little real Brazilian culture and don’t want to restrict yourself to the obvious tourist stops, overhyped bars and restaurants or usual “gringo” nightlife spots. Our recommendation? Spend a night or day – or both, even – at Feira de São Cristóvão. The feira, which means “fair,” is organized by people from the northeast (nordeste), which is the poorest region in the country. That poverty has led millions of northeasterners to migrate to Rio over the last 50 years to seek a better life. And Feira de São Cristóvão is where they express themselves culturally, musically and, last but not least, gastronomically.

No matter how long your stay in Mexico City, you’ll simply never “taste it all.” In the cycle of each day, from tamales, atole and morning licuados to midday comida and evening tacos, this great culinary city is in perpetual motion. Want Yucatecan cuisine? Oaxacan? Restaurants abound where you can experience the cuisines of other regions, but the street food, fondas and market stalls in general reflect the regional cuisine of Estado de México. To properly understand “Mexican food” and its regional diversity, get out of town. Just a little more than two hours from Mexico City’s Centro Historico is a Pueblo Mágico called Tepoztlán. The bus ride there passes through three national parks along the way.

“We say if you leave a Cretan pappou [grandfather] alone in the Cretan mountains, six months later you’ll find him fatter,” said dietitian-turned-restaurateur Panayiotis Magganas. He smiled wide. “Our land is incredibly rich.” The fertility of Greece’s largest island is part of the inspiration behind Peskesi, his restaurant in old town Heraklion that showcases the diversity of Crete’s cuisine through recipes he says are slowly being forgotten. “Even people from Crete don’t know some of these dishes,” he said. Set in an intricately refurbished Byzantine-era mansion, the restaurant still retains some of the charming details of the once-collapsing space, including a 100-year-old lemon tree that is the centerpiece of one dining room.

It might have become one of the more fashionable places in Rio for a caipirinha, yet the name of this father-son joint – “Portuguese Kiosk” – suggests humility. Indeed, the pair got their start a decade ago in one of the numerous huts that line the city’s beaches. While the majority of their competitors served the tasty, tried-and-true Rio basics – traditional caipirinhas made with cachaça; beer and French fries – to sandy-toed beachgoers, Manoel Alves, now in his early seventies, wanted to offer something different. He tried importing cheeses from Portugal, his parents’ homeland (hence the venue’s name), but found that the international products went bad too quickly to please health inspectors.

We were cutting grapes in a vineyard in eastern Georgia’s Kakheti region when two young men led a goat by a rope to a nearby tree and sliced its neck with a hefty hunting knife. Our lunch. They offered us a sliver of fresh raw liver with sardonic smiles, insisting it was the best part, but we passed and waited for the meat to be cut, skewered and roasted over the coals of tsalami, or vines. Served with bread, razor-sharp sheep cheese, whole tomatoes, cucumbers and rkatsateli wine, nothing could have been more Kakhetian. Since that harvest, we have been to scores of Kakhetian restaurants in Tbilisi, most of which were gratifying, but none had goat on their menus.

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.

Hidden within Mouraria’s maze of narrow streets is a tiny eatery offering usually hard-to-find fare in Lisbon: Goan cuisine. Situated a couple of minutes away from Martim Moniz – a revamped square that some years ago was named the multicultural core of the capital – this haven of flavors is a veteran of food diversity in the neighborhood. Tentações de Goa (“Temptations of Goa”) opened 20 years ago, when the multi-ethnic character of the area was more marginalized and not considered cosmopolitan, and when international restaurants were not as numerous and crowded as they are today. In the 1990s Maria, the now-busy owner of the small restaurant, was just a regular customer here, an avid fan of the elderly Goan woman who originally ran the place.

When you’re in the capital of Sichuan province, snacking is a way of life. Noodles made of bracken, wheat, chickpeas, mung beans and more, as well as tofu puddings and dumplings, make up the city’s “small eats” (小吃, xiǎochī) scene, served from what’s colloquially known as “fly restaurants.” A step above street food, these family-owned eateries are so called because they attract diners like flies, despite what might seem like a less-than-hygienic atmosphere, because the food is too good to miss. Find a hole-in-the-wall that has more diners than stools, and order one of these local specialties for a delicious meal.

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.

Long valued for its medicinal properties, the East Asian stone fruit ume appears in Japan’s oldest pharmacological dictionary, written in 918. Something between a plum an apricot, the ume is more acidic than both and rich in antioxidants. The first mention of umeshu, a liqueur made by steeping ume in usually distilled spirits and commonly translated as plum wine, came centuries later in a book of Japanese cuisine published in 1697. Ume’s medicinal value appears to have carried over, though, as this later work claims that the flavorful tonic both spurs the appetite and counteracts poisons.

Maybe it’s the fresh air, maybe it’s the smell of the grass and the trees or maybe our senses are more alert, but it seems to us that when we eat outdoors, food just tastes better. And Barcelona, blessed as it is with so many sunny days, a municipal market in every neighborhood, a growing number of gourmet food stores and many excellent traditional food shops and stalls, is a great city to spread out a picnic blanket for an alfresco feast. To enjoy a good meal under the blue sky, you can choose from more than 80 different green spaces:

"Me siento latinoamericano de cualquier país, pero sin renunciar nunca a la nostalgia de mi tierra: Aracataca…” “I feel Latin American from any country, but without renouncing the nostalgia for my land: Aracataca…” ~Gabriel Garcia Marquez Most are animated, some waver and occasionally one stumbles. Every few feet, a door swings open and a bolero, salsa or merengue tune blares from within. It’s Saturday night in Jackson Heights, and up and down Roosevelt Avenue families flow, children beg their parents for sweets, young women gossip and others hop from bar to bar. In the midst of the hustle and bustle works Luis Alfonso Marin, a Colombian immigrant who sells butter-laden, mozzarella-stuffed arepas topped with grated white cheese from his cart at the corner of Roosevelt Avenue and 80th Street.

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.”