Numerous wines and craft cheeses are enjoyed on our Greek Wine's Rebirth, Uncorked walk, where some of the country's most exciting up-and-coming wines are presented alongside perfectly-paired snacks.

Retsina is a pine resin-infused white wine beloved in Greece, and is among the many exciting wines that are sampled on our Greek Wines Rebirth, Uncorked walk, where one gets the opportunity to dive deep in to the country's resurgent wine culture.

The Greek wine grape harvest is almost over. The dry and hot weather conditions throughout the year helped the grapes ripen earlier than usual, around ten days ahead of last year – a meaningful number when it comes to the delicate business of selecting what to pick for the harvest. After the previous year, a disastrous vintage for many, producers in Greece’s major wine regions finally have something to be excited about. The harvest that has us excited, though, took place just an hour’s drive from Athens, in a lesser-known wine region near Corinth. Here you can find the tiny vineyard of John Papargyriou, one of Greece’s most celebrated rising winemakers, with his wines selling out fast both at home and abroad.

Wine and health: that was the prevailing philosophy of Joan Cusiné Hill, who in 1978 took over Parés Baltà wines, produced in Penedés, the land of cava. Cusiné Hill, who had already started working in viticulture at the age of seven, applied this philosophy first to himself – to what he ate and drank, to exercise, always with his focus on discipline and his vision. But he also applied it to his vineyards, using natural fertilization methods that included walking his sheep among the vines so that they could eat the grass and planting vines in the middle of the forest in an effort to harness the power and energy of those natural surroundings.

Over the last 20 years the wine industry in Baja California has grown exponentially, with the majority of production located in the Guadalupe Valley. The valley, which lies just 22 miles northeast of Ensenada, is about 14 miles long and is home to over 100 vineyards of varying sizes, from large-scale wineries like L.A. Cetto, to boutique operations like Monte Xanic, Vena Cava and La Lomita. Interest in the valley, both for its bright and rocky landscape and the unexpected wines it produces, has brought a boom in tourism. Design hotels and high-quality farm-to-table restaurants abound, making the valley a hot spot for food and wine enthusiasts.

Celebrating its 300th birthday this year, the Quinta do Vallado estate, located near Peso da Régua in the heart of the Douro valley, is integral to the history of the region. The current owners are the sixth-generation descendants of D. Antónia Adelaide Ferreira, a legendary visionary and businesswoman who, in the 19th century, changed Douro wines. Francisco Ferreira, the 44-year-old scion of the family, is now leading the wine making of this old estate, which for years was dedicated exclusively to port and is now producing some great red and white wines.

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.

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.

Abílio Coelho is a generous man, offering a smile to every customer while serving each of them the most traditional drink in Lisbon: ginjinha. He has spent 44 of his 63 years behind a counter serving the libation. Ginja Sem Rival, the bar he serves it in, like the best places, is a hole-in-the-wall, and the drink is made in-house. Ginja is the actual name of the liqueur, which is made from a sour cherry of the same name. The fruit might not be so sweet but is fortunately well suited to being turned into this smooth drink, which is enjoyed both as an aperitif and digestif.

It is 9 p.m. and we are packing our bags for a red-eye flight to Poland when I realize we have no chacha, Georgia’s otherworldly elixir of distilled fermented grape pulp. We never, ever travel without chacha, and there is no way we’re going to buy over-the-counter, factory-produced product – and not because it’s over-priced. Chacha is a potion brewed by the hands of masters over wood fires in hammer-battered stills sealed in a paste of dirt and ash. Without the human touch – the artistry – chacha is just a soulless, liver-grinding liquor. I make the call. Andria deals in wine, chacha and religion from a devilish little cellar in Tbilisi’s old neighborhood of Sololaki.