Our guide to Albariño, a classic Galician white wine, and the producers like Martin Códax who are keeping this tradition alive in Rías Baixas DO.

Georgia’s astounding winemaking tradition traces back eight millennia, and is not to be missed. From the country’s different varieties, terroirs, and winemaking methods, there’s a lot to learn – and taste – when it comes to Georgian wine. As a starting point (or simply for those who don’t have time to venture out of the city), Tbilisi’s wine bars are a great place to have a glass or two and dig into Georgian viticulture. Wine bars are a relatively new trend in Georgia and about the greatest thing to happen since the invention of the kvevri, the characteristic ceramic vessels for fermenting and storing traditional Georgian wine.

Buenos Aires is overflowing with places to drink wine — from natural wine specialists and stylish newcomers to a classic bar that’s been pouring since the ’90s. Here are the best wine bars to visit right now.

Lisbon’s Rua do Forno do Tijolo may only stretch a few blocks, but it packs in the city’s full story: French bakers, Portuguese wine bars, Goan curries, Macanese dishes, and old-school coffee roasters, all side by side.

The numbers don’t lie: the Portuguese drink the most wine per capita of any nationality. Not surprisingly, you don’t have to look far to find the drink in Lisbon, a city where a glass of wine is sometimes cheaper than a bottle of water. But if you’re looking for a unique wine – perhaps something made by a small producer, a long-lost grape, or a bottle from an obscure region – in a comfortable or perhaps even stylish atmosphere, poured by someone who can tell you a bit about what you’re drinking, things get a little more complicated.

When Tbilisi wine enthusiast Irakli Chkhaidze first pitched his unconventional business idea over a decade ago – a wine store where customers could drink bottles at retail price rather than marked-up bar prices – his entrepreneurial friends dismissed it as unworkable. After all, most wine bars derived their profits from significant markups on alcoholic beverages. Moreover, at the time, many locals showed greater interest in foreign wines than local varieties, having easy access to family-made Georgian wines. Yet the former economist remained adamant. “I had no money, but I realized I had to do it myself,” says the now-42-year-old. Describing himself as “familiar with figures but hating figures,” he abandoned his managerial position at one of Georgia's largest pharmaceutical companies to pursue an MBA in Food and Wine in Bologna, Italy.

The original idea was simple enough. “The plan was to make really good ham and cheese sandwiches,” explains Bruno Ribeiro of O Primo do Queijo, the Lisbon restaurant he owns with Francisco Nuno Silveira Bernardo. But rarely are things so easy.

Back in 1966, when it opened on Avenida da República, one the main roads connecting the new avenues of Lisbon with the city center, Galeto caused quite a commotion. Lisboetas flocked to the huge snack bar, seduced by both the design – it was styled like an American diner – and the menu, which in those days seemed wildly innovative. Locals used to more conservative Portuguese fare were suddenly introduced to club sandwiches, burgers, mixed plates that brought together some wildly disparate elements and even Brazilian feijoada. Eating at the long counters while perched on a comfy seat was quite different from sitting on a stool at an everyday tasca. When combined with the avant-garde décor, swift service, and long hours (it was open late, until 3:30 a.m.), it felt like Lisbon was catching up with the dining habits elsewhere in Europe or the U.S.

De toda la vida is a Spanish expression that basically means “It’s been around forever,” and it’s a sure thing that the locals in Barcelona’s Gràcia neighborhood will utter those words if you ask them about Bodega Quimet. Opened in the 1950s by the Quimet family, the bodega (not to be confused with Quimet i Quimet, a popular Barcelona tapas bar) was passed down from father to son until 2010, when the younger (but nonetheless old) Quimet retired and brothers Carlos and David Montero bought the venue. David Montero had always worked as a cook and dreamed of owning his own place. However, after buying Quimet, instead of doing the renovations so typical of Barcelona bars that change hands (such as modernizing the furnishings or installing a huge flat-screen TV for showing fútbol matches), the Montero brothers made the somewhat unusual decision to keep everything, from the low prices to the décor, pretty much the same as it always had been.

Gambrinus, in operation since 1936, is the type of restaurant with fully-suited wait staff, white tablecloths, signature plates, wood paneling on the walls and a menu that touches on items such as foie gras and crêpes Suzette. If you’ve ever eaten there, it’s likely that you sat in one of the elegant, warm dining rooms designed by Portuguese architect Maurício de Vasconcelos in 1964. But for generations of Lisbon diners, especially chefs and others in the hospitality industry, food writers and photographers, Gambrinus means one thing: its bar.

It was an unusual night. But Black Sheep is, admittedly, an unusual venue. Lucas Ferreira, one of the co-owners of the Lisbon wine bar, had pulled out a guitar and was engaging in a jam session with a former bandmate. For a good 45 minutes, the normally buzzy bar was on pause: the chatter had ceased, glasses were not being poured. The only interruption was the occasional bark of an elderly dog that was wandering the space. Customers were singing along, the lights were low, and the vibe was less of a wine bar and more of a private party.

Unlike most capitals, Lisbon has vineyards within its territory, and plenty of vines within reach in neighboring municipalities, from Sintra to Cascais and Loures. But until 2020, there wasn’t a single winery to be found in the city itself. Adega Belém has remedied this. Located right at the edge of one of the city’s most visited neighborhoods, where tourists line up to see the Belém Tower or eat Lisbon’s most famous egg tart, The winery’s unusual location – occupying a former garage in the backstreets – is a peaceful antidote to all the queues. Upon arrival, we’re greeted by Lili, a friendly brown labrador. She has a red wine named in her honor but we’ve already fallen in love with her even before learning that. Lili takes us to meet Catarina and David, the couple whose vision of producing wine in the city made Adega Belém a reality. Prior to this venture, they both had careers in academia, and left jobs at universities to dedicate themselves to wine.

Dreamers make the world more beautiful. These extravagant eccentrics fascinate us with their seemingly impossible, utopian ventures, while equally making us wonder how their projects endure. Mario Avallone, 62, is one of these people. Get to know him, and he’ll happily tell you his tale: his travels around the world, his years living in Sicily, his incredible projects and the Mediterranean goods that he sources from A-to-Z. It is this truly extraordinary expertise in gastronomic culture that feeds his Neapolitan pantry – Drugstore Napoli – and the attached tasting room, La Stanza del Gusto, which was created to satisfy the most discerning palates, Neapolitans and travelers alike.

For a city famous for making one of the best-known wines in the world, it took Porto a long time to catch up with viable options for bars offering good glasses. But Portugal's second-biggest city has finally reached an effervescent wine peak that lives up to its worldwide fame – not to mention the country is now the world's leader in wine consumption, at around 58 liters per capita. Today, bars in Porto are wildly different from days past: their wine-by-the-glass lists feature many small producers and venture away from conventional bottles, they have young chefs in the kitchen taking a more international approach to their menus (with influences from the Middle East to Latin America), and offer service that is both professional and welcoming.

Before we start this story, we must first explain the role of the platia in Greece. Platia (πλατεία, pronounced pla-tee-ah and sometimes spelled plateia) means “plaza” in Greek, and can refer to a central town square or a small neighborhood square. All ages meet at the platia: babies in strollers, loud children running and playing like there’s no tomorrow, teenagers having their first smoke or kiss, parents, grandparents, cats, dogs! These squares are to be found all around Greece, even in the most remote village. The role of the plaza in an Athenian neighborhood is even more vital and precious. It preserves the idea of a neighborhood, where everyone gets to know each other and share something in common.