Pide is an oven-baked, boat-shaped favorite laden with cheese and often a variety of meats and vegetables, and we sample some of Istanbul's best on our Bazaar walk.

In past centuries, ones of economic hardship, Neapolitans’ ancestors feasted only during religious holidays. It was easier then to distinguish the piatti delle feste, feasting foods, by their richness and variety. In these more prosperous times, and with the availability of raw materials throughout the year, these lavish dishes can be prepared or purchased virtually any time, which makes it seem difficult to talk about “festive meals.” However, with the approach of Easter (and Christmas), many Neapolitans, beyond their religious beliefs, are seized by an irresistible desire to return to family traditions and to eat the dishes prepared by their forebears.

While kafeneio literally means “coffee shop” in Greek, the word is often used for establishments which offer much more than a jolt of caffeine, whereas straight-up coffee shops are nowadays referred to as “cafes.” Back in the old days and in smaller towns and villages, the kafeneio was the men’s local meeting and eating place, where they would exchange ideas about politics and life, play backgammon and cards or just hang out. That bygone concept is what Giorgos, the owner of Stoa tou Agathona, had in mind when he opened up shop in the heart of the commercial triangle in Athens, just a stone’s throw away from bustling St. Irene Square and Eolou Street.

The afternoon was gray, drizzly and, even for a Good Friday, doleful. So the brightly colored sign in the restaurant window – had someone scooped up all the highlighters at the stationery store? – shone out all the more. "FANESCA," it announced in bold block letters. We hadn't given thought to fanesca since we read an account by writer Calvin Trillin, some years earlier, of his quest for this Easter-season soup. After all, we had no plans to follow Trillin to the cobbled streets of Cuenca, or to anywhere else in Ecuador, anytime soon. But we remembered the name fanesca, and we stepped inside the restaurant for a restorative bowl. The sign in the window was true to its word: “Deliciosa!”

The last calçots of the season mark the beginning of Barcelona's spring. Grab a batch on our Made in Catalonia walk while you still can!

Milky, tart, viscous and slightly foamy. At first glance and sip, there’s little to explain why pulque – a mildly alcoholic drink made by fermenting the fresh sap of certain types of maguey, the same plant used for making mezcal – has remained a trusted companion to Mexican drinkers since Aztec times. Pulque, actually, has not only survived, but, after decades of losing ground to beer and soft drinks and their high-priced marketing campaigns, this workingman’s brew is making a comeback. New pulquerías are popping up in hip Mexico City neighborhoods and attracting a younger crowd while old pulquerías, which endured some lean times, are seeing an influx of new customers, who now sit side-by-side with older generations of loyal pulque drinkers.

In downtown’s Chiado, a slightly bougie-looking restaurant profits from the crowds leaving weekend performances at the São Luiz theatre, a former 19th-century cinema. This place also takes advantage of a common and ubiquitous Portuguese ingredient – rice. Bagos (“grains of rice”) has just a few tables over two floors; the upstairs level is the more suitable for a business lunch partaken while tram 28 trundles by. The vibe is refined but simple, and that is reflected in how the humble staple on its menu is reworked in the kitchen. Chef Henrique Mouro explores the many ways in which different varieties of rice are prepared across the country, revealing a very typical component as the basis for all sorts of invention.

In the past year, we’ve seen more new noodle houses hawking spicy Chengdu and Chongqing style noodles than we can count on two hands. Very few of the Shanghai-based noodle houses do the fly restaurants of Chengdu justice. Some dish out bowls of insipid strands that barely register on the Scoville scale, while others go for that unbalanced, burn-your-face-off flare that means the chef has likely never been to Sichuan, much less studied the careful art of the region’s balanced cooking. Liu Dao Men is among the exceptions, carefully walking the tightrope of spicy yet tasty, with its menu of Chengdu noodle classics.

Some sociologists say that Spanish society and culture can’t be properly understood without spending time in its bars. You can find bars in mountain refuges, subway stations, on the beach and by the highway. In Barcelona, there are as many bars as taxis and ten times more bars than bookshops. In fact, a recent study by Coca-Cola found that in Spain there’s a bar for every 132 Spaniards. The same study points out that a third of Spaniards wouldn’t hesitate to leave their house keys at their local bar and that two-thirds of them are on a first-name basis with the employees there.

The esnaf lokantası is Turkey's gift to the working man and woman. While in many parts of the world, lunch during the work week means eating an uninspiring sandwich or salad inside a lonely cubicle at the office, workers in Turkey have the esnaf lokantası ("tradesman's restaurant" in Turkish). Outfitted with a steam table that usually holds dozens of ready-made and utterly homey dishes, it is much more than simply a canteen. In reality, it is the place that keeps a hungry nation going. We've rounded up six of our favorite esnaf lokantaları in Istanbul.

Once the hub of a trading empire that connected Macau in the east to Rio de Janeiro in the west, Lisbon today can at times feel like a sleepy town of nostalgic storefronts and scenic churches. But that’s only its façade. Take a closer look and you’ll discover a city that still maintains deep-rooted links around the world – just consider the local obsession with African piri piri sauce. But there’s an even stronger tie to Portugal’s past in Lisbon, one that can be found in the form of the city’s communities from the former colonies. Though integral elements of Lisbon life, these communities can sometimes be an invisible presence in their adopted land, pushed out to the periphery of the city.

On a narrow and, until recently, slightly forgotten street in Lisbon’s city center, a simple Cape Verdean eatery is holding its own. As one of the few tascas serving up African dishes in this part of town, Tambarina, with its dozen tables and keyboard and mics set up in the corner, bears testimony to this urban quarter’s historical connections to the people of Africa’s northwestern archipelago.

It’s Sunday morning at La Pignasecca market in Naples and time is in flux. Picture a Boccioni painting: movement is blurred, there is an inter-penetration of objects, speeding vehicles and sound – a frenetic moment in the Futurists’ imagination. The city rises as engines splutter, traders hustle, klaxons yelp. Santa Maria di Montesanto spews punters out into the marketplace after mass; men peel off, heading home to check on the simmering ragù; groomed teenagers peacock on mopeds as groups of women push in line to pick up their last-minute order of fresh pasta, charcuterie and squid. The church bells chime: it’s lunchtime. Anticipation is in the air.

This chicken and rice cart in Istanbul's Unkapanı quarter serves the city's best, and there are many imitators that try to capitalize off of its good name. Fortunately, our Old City walk stops by for a taste of this simple yet delicious snack.

It all started with a seriously delicious hamburger in New York City. Rumor has it that it was this burger that first gave acclaimed Catalan chef Oriol Rovira the idea of opening Sagàs Pagesos y Cuiners (“Farmers and Cooks”) in the Born district of Barcelona. Specializing in high-end sandwiches, the restaurant embraces the farm-to-table philosophy, with a menu that is both distinctively Catalan and international in scope. Rovira, who also runs Els Casals, a Michelin-starred restaurant in the tiny village of Sagàs near the edge of the Pyrenees, opened his sandwich spot in May 2011. As at Els Casals, nearly all of the food at the Barcelona venue comes straight from the chef’s village farm. But why sandwiches?