In terms of greenness, Athens doesn’t even come close to other European capitals, with their verdant parks and blossoming gardens. The truth is, modern urban development has not been particularly gentle with this city. Numerous concrete buildings, along with poor road design, hem in inhabitants and visitors with featureless views.

Sitting on the boardwalk of Veracruz, about five or six hours east of Mexico City, we watch the blinking lights of shrimp and fish boats in the farthest distance, knowing our next dinner is on its way. A day before, arriving from the bus, all we wanted was especially satisfying seafood, and the hunt brought us downtown, which, in the past, has always provided. Veracruz is a warm harbor, embracing all comers and proposing excellent food and endless dancing into the night on the city’s street corners. Or that’s how we remembered it.

In typical Shanghai fashion, good things come to those willing to stand in the longest lines, or to pre-book the farthest in advance. We’ve seen the queue for braised duck at Guang Ming Cun swell to several hours long during the Chinese New Year, and A Da's scallion pancakes require a minimum hourlong wait on most days, yet we had never expected the same for the humble zòngzi (粽子).

Like other cities around the world, Mexico City has been flooded with big-name chain coffee shops that charge exorbitant prices for a cup of bad coffee. Fortunately, D.F. is a city of contrasts, where good taste in coffee still exists. We set out to find the best coffee shops in town and were surprised by what we found. Our first stop was one coffee shop we have been visiting for several years now, Café Triana, inside Mercado San Juan, the city’s first gourmet stop par excellence. Marilu and Pablo Arana started selling coffee from Veracruz, a city on the Gulf of Mexico with a Caribbean feel, in the aisles of the market until they got the chance to get a booth and start their own coffee shop. Their establishment has since been featured in many national and international media outlets.

With cafés popping up all over the country, from the arty boutique coffeehouses of Tbilisi to the Lavazza kiosks in villages like Zestafoni, it is easy to forget the humbler days of Georgia’s coffee culture, when an “Americano” was a chemically enhanced instant coffee powder in a stars-and-stripes-emblazoned packet added to a cup of hot water.

The smell and the smoke attract us like a magnet. We can’t see them, but there are sardines being grilled over charcoal somewhere nearby. We are in Largo do Chafariz de Dentro, where the Fado Museum is, and the strong smell of the popular deep-fried farturas (a big churro) goes unnoticed due to the overwhelming – and delicious! – smell of grilled sardines everywhere.

Each year at the end of May, more than 12,000 penyistes and 200,000 hungry visitors devour 12 tons of snails in one mere weekend in the city of Lleida, the capital of Catalonia’s interior. The Aplec del Caragol (“Snail Gathering”) is now an internationally known gastronomic event of impressive magnitude. Just under two hours inland from Barcelona by car and an hour by high-speed train, Lleida is an easy trip worth taking, especially in late spring, when friends and families gather to eat and drink with abandon. Typical foods prepared by the colles (gangs) of penyistes (participants) who register together and participate in the Aplec every year (sometimes for decades without fail) include paella, fideuà (a typical pasta preparation), grilled meats and sausages, stews and salads. However, the tender, tasty land snail is the main attraction.

For the past 24 years, Cemil Tuncay has wheeled his small metal cart to the biweekly produce pazar in Edirne. He sets up shop around noon, lighting coals under what can be described as massive, torpedo-shaped sausages. Kokoreç is a simple fast food made from bits of sheep left over from butchering, stuffed into intestines to the bursting point. It is a one-man operation. With the exception of his wife (who sometimes helps him clean and prepare the meat), Tuncay goes it alone. His mustachioed face is often grizzled with a little bit of stubble and worn by years’ worth of fragrant grill smoke. He is tall and stoops over a bit to prepare each order, doing so with a jaunty smile and a twinkle in his eyes.

Whether you’re a native Athenian or just visiting, Kypseli is not likely to be on your list of favorite haunts unless you happen to have roots there. It’s not connected to the Metro, it boasts neither museums nor fancy boutiques, and yet it must be one of the liveliest districts in Athens. T

The only positive thing about the torturous annual visit we used to make to Istanbul’s main police station in order to renew our residence permit was the chance to drive through the low-rent Aksaray neighborhood. It's home to dozens of intriguing off-the-beaten-path restaurants, most of them opened by migrants from other parts of Turkey. On one trip through the area, we noticed a large, newish-looking sign belonging to a restaurant called Akdeniz Hatay Sofrası. Hatay is the name of Turkey’s southernmost province, an area bounded by the Mediterranean and the border with Syria.

Spain – and of course Barcelona – has always been a breeding ground for creative types in the kitchen. There’s an ever-increasing number of restaurants that take as inspiration first traditional preparations and update them with ingredients from a global pantry, yet keep their local soul intact. It’s a common thread among many young chefs in this town, and it has created a culinary scene that feels modern, unexpected – and personal. Let’s throw in an additional twist: a chef who’s not Spanish.

In Cape Town, good eating is easy to find, but the best salomie – roti flatbread wrapped around curry – is worth searching for. This search took us to Mariam’s Kitchen, which is attached to the side of St. George’s Mall arcade across from the Cape Times and Argus Newspaper House in Cape Town’s business district. For a feeling of home, many locals tuck into this sit-down and take-away café, which has offered a plethora of halal meals for over a decade. The homemade menu is a masala (mix) of Cape Town’s unique fast-food culture.

Editor’s note: We regret to report that Bai Jia Qian Wei has closed. Mention Anhui to most Shanghai residents, and you’ll most likely get a response along the lines of, “My āyí is from there.” Migrant workers from Anhui, one of the country’s poorest provinces, flood into Shanghai tasked with building the city’s skyline, massaging the clenched shoulders of white-collar workers and washing our dishes. Despite the fact that the province is the source of a third of all of Shanghai’s migrant workers – and that its cuisine ranks among China’s Eight Culinary Traditions – Anhui food isn’t held in the same regard as Sichuan or Cantonese by Shanghai gourmets.

George Vassalos is a beekeeper, farmer, master distiller. He lives in Lagkada, in the center of Amorgos, at the southern end of the Cyclades, and which was made famous by the movie Le Grand Bleu (1988). We were lucky enough to be at his farm recently when he made pasteli using his own thyme honey and sesame grown in Chalkidiki.

David Sterling is chef, owner and maestro at Los Dos in Mérida, Yucatán, the first culinary adventure destination devoted exclusively to Yucatecan cuisine. He is the author of Yucatán: Recipes from a Culinary Expedition. In 2015, the book was honored as Best International Cookbook and Best Cookbook of the Year by the James Beard Foundation; it also won The Art of Eating Prize for best food book of the year. Sterling has been featured on The Martha Stewart Show (“Martha in Mexico”) and Mexico: One Plate at a Time, with Rick Bayless. He’s also been acclaimed by The New York Times, The New Yorker, Gourmet, Travel & Leisure, Globe & Mail, ELLE, National Geographic Traveler, Condé Nast Traveler and Frommer’s.