After 12 years of living in Shanghai, we thought we had eaten our way through every nook and cranny in this city, but China has a delightful way of always surprising you. A friend tipped us about a great little Taiwanese joint less than a kilometer from our office, and since Taiwanese food is woefully underrepresented in Shanghai, we immediately planned a lunch outing to test its beef noodle soup and braised pork rice. When we pulled up outside a three-story Spanish villa complete with Juliet balconies and a rosy pink paint job, we were surprised to find a familiar sight. The distinctive building sits directly across the street from a yoga studio we had gone to for four years. We’d never even considered that it could be a restaurant – there’s no sign or indication that delicious dishes lay just beyond the front door.

Kadıköy’s Kimyon is a friend of the after-hours and the booze-fueled denizens who are done at the bar but have yet to call it a night. It is the buffer zone between too many drinks and a brutal hangover, and doesn’t judge those who are still up at 6:30 a.m., because it’s still open and orders of grilled chicken skewers are freshly sizzling above the charcoal. Kimyon runs nearly around the clock, save for perhaps an hour at dawn when operations shut down for cleaning. Appropriately, it’s located in the dead center of Kadife Sokak (Velvet Street), whose elegant name belies the revelry that takes place inside and frequently spills out of the numerous drinking establishments that give the street its de-facto moniker: Barlar Sokağı (Bars Street).

If anything in recent history has bonded Spanish hearts, it was neither politics, language, flags nor even TV. It was the tortilla de patatas, the iconic potato omelet. In every house, bar and restaurant, the tortilla de patates is always treated with intimacy and respect, like some sort of communal great-great-grandmother. And in every Spanish city, you will find a list of the best kitchens offering this specialty. For Barcelona, one neighborhood temple devoted to the omelet is Les Truites, a small family restaurant in Sant Gervasi run by Joan Antoni Miró and his son Marc.

At Pollería Fontana, a cozy restaurant inspired by the owner’s history in a poultry shop, it’s neither chicken nor eggs, but rather family that comes first. The name, which means Fontana’s Poultry Shop, is a tribute to the owner’s family business, a store selling chickens and eggs that was established by chef Nil Ros’ grandparents in 1935. But for the last six years, Pollería Fontana has been a contemporary, lovely little restaurant with an idiosyncratic personality in Gràcia, a fittingly idiosyncratic neighborhood that hosts Barcelona’s highest concentration of small independent restaurants. With old kitchenware and trinkets strewn about, numerous family photos in black and white hanging and a casual but warm atmosphere perfect for small groups and families, the space is like a contemporary tribute to the Catalan culinary neighborhood tradition.

Pa de Sant Jordi, bread striped with the bright yellow and red of the Catalan flag to celebrate La Diada de Sant Jordi, may be the new-kid-on-the-block of culinary traditions in Barcelona, but it’s been accepted by nearly everyone as a genuine part of the holiday. The patriotically colored bread is now a ubiquitous presence in bakeries throughout the city come April 23.

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.

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.

Rua Catalana is a very ancient road, a corner of Naples where time seems to stand still. Located next to the financial district and now squeezed by 19th-century buildings, it is curiously the only road in the city that, instead of the Italian “Via,” uses “Rua,” a distortion of the French “Rue.” In the mid-14th century, Queen Joanna I of Naples welcomed merchants from all over Europe to the city as part of her efforts to promote trade. She donated this area to the Catalans, and tinsmiths and junk dealers settled here. Even though 700 years have passed, a smattering of small copper and tin artisans continue to practice their craft on this street, now making artistic copper and tin objects for the increasing number of tourists roaming the city.

Compared to many of the contemporary restaurants and bars in Poblenou’s 22@ district, a hub for tech companies and start-ups in Barcelona, Restaurante Leka has relatively deep roots: it first opened as a traditional truck driver’s inn and eatery in 1984. But don’t let its history fool you – this is a spot committed to the future. Reopened in 2016 as an “open source” and “honest food” restaurant, Leka creates high-quality and interesting dishes that combine local and tropical flavors, all at fair prices. Perhaps more importantly, their culinary philosophy, which is centered on creativity, innovation, environmental responsibility and openness to the international community, mirrors the spirit that Barcelona aspires to embody. The city may be on its way, but Leka is already there.

After being named Best European Destination in 2017 and earning a few other tourist distinctions, there’s no doubt about it: Porto is trendy. But what’s trendy is also in Porto, and those who live here see new restaurants pop up every week. We try them all – places both bold and familiar – because we have a good appetite, but we put our trust in those spots where we get the warmest reception. And trust is something we take very seriously in Porto. Homey meals at A Cozinha do Manel Open now for three decades, A Cozinha do Manel is far from the touristy downtown and serves up good old comfort food, the type of fare that leaves us serenely satisfied.

The memory of 2017’s devastating earthquake still lingers in the minds of many in Mexico City, but perhaps the biggest challenge the city faced in 2018 was gentrification. Ambitious development initiatives have resulted in safer neighborhoods; however, the cost of real estate has soared, leaving many long-term residents and business owners at risk for eviction, particularly in the Historic Center. Yet chilangos are showing their support for their favorite culinary institutions that are feeling the crunch. Likewise, our DF correspondents revisited some old favorites in 2018, as well as branching out into uncharted territory.

Black ice cream is not an easy sell, but Jose Luis Cervantes, AKA Joe Gelato, is a persuasive guy. It’s not just his million-dollar smile or easygoing nature, but also the passion that he clearly feels for his gelato. “Before I went to Italy, I knew about the concept of gelato,” says Jose, “but I had no idea how good it would be. I had only tasted what was available in Mexico at time. I went there and felt the fat in my mouth, the sugars, I can’t explain it – I love it. I love the whole culture around gelato.”

Most European capital cities have a Chinatown, and Lisbon is no different. In the 1980s many immigrants from the Zhejiang province, on China’s eastern coast, made downtown Mouraria their home; the wave of newcomers remained steady and eventually peaked in the 2000s. As the first generation grows up, their family businesses are leaving indelible marks on the wider city, joined now by entrepreneurs from Macau – Portugal’s last colony – and those benefiting from the country’s Golden Visa scheme, which allows people who invest a certain amount or buy property in Portugal to move here. This means a boom in Chinese food right in the heart of the city.

“Where to eat in Porto?” Google search this sequence of five words and a multitude of articles listing restaurants and eateries will naturally come up as a result. Some of those suggestions – the trustworthy ones, at least – will mention Casa Nanda. It’s a fair choice: Casa Nanda is, indeed, one of the most traditional and historic joints in town. What most listings won’t mention, though, is that the couple who founded it and were its driving force are now working somewhere else.

There has always been a bit of a rivalry between the two main cities of Portugal, Lisbon and Porto, which is well illustrated by an old running joke among some tripeiros (the name given to the people of Porto): whenever someone asks what is the best thing about Lisbon they will reply, “The highway sign that says ‘Porto.’” But it’s a healthy rivalry for the most part – football aside. Lisboetas, Lisbon locals, in general even tend to recognize that the food might actually be better in Porto and its surroundings, especially traditional dishes. While Porto does not benefit from the same multicultural influences that helped shape Lisbon’s restaurant scene, it is home to some very talented cooks with a knack for doing so much with so little.