A Bangkok street food staple, phat phak bung fai daeng (flash-fried morning glory) delivers fiery garlic-chili heat in under two minutes. Crisp greens, wok smoke, and a splash of oyster sauce make this simple stir-fry one of Thailand’s most beloved everyday meals.

“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

Summer in Provençe ushers in a multitude of promises. In Marseille, it means waking to the song of the cicadas, day trips by boat to le Frioul to cool off in the sea and the afternoon rendezvous with friends for an apéro of pastis or rosé on ice. Saturdays bring the bliss of wandering through the markets in search for the perfect melon from Cavaillon, the ciflorette strawberries from Carpentras, or the succulent coeur de boeuf tomato. Perhaps the one market item that signifies the Provençal summer more than anything else is the fleur de courgette (zucchini flower). When this lovely little flower appears, we know it is officially summertime in the South.

On March 27 of this year, Monique and Josef, the Moroccan-born couple that own Patisserie Avyel, plan to roast a turmeric-coated lamb shoulder above a bed of onions. My friend Judith, whose family hails from Algeria’s Tlemcen region, will blend almonds and raisins into mlosia, a thick jam. And, in my apartment, I will simmer matzo balls in chicken broth as my Lithuanian ancestors once did. All of us Marseillais will be cooking these foods for Passover, the Jewish holiday that commemorates the exodus of the Israelites from Egyptian slavery. While Jewish celebrations and cooking are as intertwined as the braided challah bread we eat on Shabbat – “all of our fêtes pass through the kitchen,” quips Frédérique, a Marseillaise with Tunisian roots.

In Oaxaca, when friends come together to eat after a long night out, sitting down for brunch becomes a challenge – everyone has different cravings and dietary needs. In the heart of the city center, there is a place with something for everyone: Tendajón Agavería The all-day eatery is a true standout among the numerous restaurants that serve classic Oaxacan food, offering a variety of dishes that oscillate between traditional and innovative flavors. From the Croque Madame with smoked quesillo to a fresh poleo mint couscous with shrimp cooked in chintextle (chili paste), the menu has a strong Oaxacan overtone interpreted in very unexpected ways.

Nevizade Street is one of the most buzzing parts of the Beyoğlu district, the heart of nightlife and cultural activity in Istanbul, but it has weathered its fair share of ups and downs in recent years. For a variety of economic and political reasons, Nevizade's vitality has suffered, and we’ve had to witness the closure of some of the area’s most emblematic spots. But just last year, a fantastic new restaurant here brought together an unlikely pair who have quickly formed what is without a doubt the area's most dynamic duo: Ibrahim Usta and Mehmet Akkök. With his beaming smile, white hair, and bushy eyebrows, Ibrahim Usta (usta being “master,” as of a craft) became famous for the delicious hummus that he whipped up in Antakya for nearly four decades. When the February 6, 2023 earthquakes struck, his home was destroyed, leaving no choice but to pack up and move to Istanbul to live with his son.

During the winter months, we all like to curl up and hibernate a bit with our favorite calorie-packed, stick-to-the-bones comfort food. In France, that might be a cassoulet, which has its origins in Castelnaudary, a town in the Occitanie region. Or perhaps a boeuf bourguignon from the Burgundy region in eastern France, or a gratin dauphinois from the Dauphiné region in the country’s southeast. Here in Marseille, we often enjoy a big bowl of coucsous, brought to the city from Tunisia or Algeria and prepared in local eateries by the restaurateurs of Maghrebi heritage. All of these dishes are crave-worthy, but the king of kings, a simple dish that practically everyone will show up for when invited, is the fondue Savoyarde from the Savoie region in the French Alps.

Jokes and laughter can be heard from among the olive trees in a field on the coast of Arsuz, a village in the southern Turkish province of Hatay. Here, two dozen women are hard at work on the hilly land, with a view of the Mediterranean Sea on one side and the Amanos Mountains on the other. Seven days a week, from early morning to midday, the workers comb through the trees one by one, gathering the olives and depositing them on plastic tarps spread on the ground.

Oaxaca’s street food scene has surprises for us every day of the week. From breakfast to lunch, we can find plenty of stalls with a plethora of options: eggs, tamales, tortas, tacos, hot drinks, juices and more. However, when sunset bathes the streets of the historic center, most of these stalls are disassembled into heaps of tarps, letting esquites, burger and hot dog stands take over the night shift. Fortunately, this is not the case for Empanadas del Carmen Alto, a classic among locals for serving up daytime dishes until midnight. The menu at Empanadas del Carmen Alto is succinct: memelas (thick corn tortillas topped with various ingredients), the famous empanadas de amarillo (calzone-like corn tortillas filled with chicken and mole amarillo) and squash blossom or mushroom quesadillas.

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.

The main street that flanks the Gayrettepe metro station in central Istanbul is lined with a number of imposing skyscrapers that increase in frequency as the avenue progresses towards the frenetic Mecidiyeköy district, a stretch of urban chaos that has a Gotham City vibe, particularly when it’s rainy, cold and dark outside. But heading into the backstreets of Gayrettepe reveals a calm, classic Istanbul neighborhood with a number of hidden gems. Among these is Oklava, a four-table pasta restaurant located inside an aging building complex. The menu changes daily and there are about half a dozen items on it, featuring fresh, handmade pasta prepared with high-quality hand-picked ingredients. Before discovering the restaurant, Gayrettepe was synonymous with the Department of Immigration and the local tax office where we paid our residence permit fees, but now we have a less stressful reason to visit the area.

As difficult as the last two years have been for food businesses, it has offered many establishments an opportunity to rethink how they do things and come back with a greater sense of purpose. Take the example of Oaxaca’s Oscuro Brebaje, a café that took a pause, only to emerge stronger and more inviting. Founded in 2015 by a young barista, Andrés González Martell, Oscuro Brebaje started off serving artsy frappés, light breakfasts and unforgettable cakes – all of which have become the signature bites of this unassuming café located in the old neighborhood of La Noria. Here, locals and visitors interact in the peaceful and picturesque streets full of old houses and colorful facades.

The fourth time was the charm when we finally were able to take a seat at Salepepe, a five-stool pizza bar in the exceedingly hip neighborhood of Yeldeğirmeni, located in Istanbul's Kadıköy district on the Anatolian side of the city. When we first went, the restaurant was closed due to selling out early, while the next attempts involved lines out the door, and those in line had dibs on the last pies of the day. But we weren't about to give up after hearing lots of hype about the first and only Tokyo-style Neapolitan pizza joint in Istanbul, which was opened at the beginning of 2023 by 34-year-old Altuğ Şencan, a photographer by trade who long wanted to open his own restaurant.

Ergenekon Avenue, the busy, one-way street that separates the Istanbul quarters of Kurtuluş and Pangaltı, is particularly bustling at the Osmanbey metro exit. For years now, the heavy foot traffic has outgrown its narrow sidewalks, peaking into an insurmountable throng at evening rush hour. On one side is an expansive walled Levantine Catholic cemetery, while the other side of the avenue marks the beginning of Kurtuluş, with its dead-straight residential backstreets running in parallels. These have quickly become home to an array of bars, cafes, restaurants and meyhanes that have popped up within the past several years and seem to keep multiplying. But nestled into a small storefront on the crowded Ergenekon is Pangaltı Sandviç, a tiny delicatessen that has been selling sandwiches made with top-notch ingredients since 1996, long before any of these newcomers.

In the Yayladere district of Bingöl, one of Turkey's eastern provinces, nestled in a valley in the foothills of the mountains known by the local Kurdish population as Silbûs û Tarî, lies the village of Conag. Come summer, the women of the village carry out a tradition that has been upheld in the region for some three centuries: rolling out and then drying a type of noodle known as êrişte. They come together every year in September to roll out the dough made with flour, salt and water, to be sun-dried and finally cut into square-shaped pieces to be used as the main ingredient of the traditional noodle, yogurt and wild thyme soup gêrmiya êrişte. The softer sunlight at this time of year is perfect for drying êrişte (pronounced eh-rish-te) without it cracking.