Jianbing are Beijing's ubiquitous breakfast crepes, perhaps the city's most popular morning snack. It's available with a dazzling variety of toppings, and prominently featured in our Beijing breakfast walk.

Baijiu, which translates literally as “white alcohol,” is a clear spirit made predominately from sorghum, although glutinous rice, maize or other grains can also be utilized in various proportions. It is ubiquitous in China at official events, like weddings, business deals, and boozy government lunches, but under President’s Xi Jinping’s ongoing crackdown on government largesse, sales are down about 13 percent from a peak in 2012. As baijiu growth falters, many brands are looking abroad to push sales – not only to introduce it to foreigners, but also to keep it relevant to the younger, wealthier generation of Chinese who are living as expatriates.

On our first morning in Nicosia we sat down at a sunlit outdoor table in a picturesque cafe and asked the waiter what Cypriots ate for breakfast. “Pies,” he said, and brought us a selection of savory ones stuffed with olives, cheese and spinach. They came straight from the microwave – grayish-beige, overheated and sodden – and tasted like greasy cardboard. It wasn’t until we discovered Apomero that we realized it didn’t have to be that way. Hidden down a shaded side street in the gentrifying part of the old town, this tiny cafe and pie shop with its small indoor space and jumble of tables and potted plants outside has a much more relaxed feel than its stuffier neighbors.

Baoyuan Jiaozi Wu was locally famous in Beijing for years, then U.S. Secretary of the Treasury Jacob Lew turned the sprawling dumpling house into a Chinese viral sensation when he lunched there in 2013. The modest meal came just weeks after Xi Jinping became the President of the People’s Republic and launched anti-corruption campaigns that tried to eliminate extravagant dinners replete with sea cucumbers and Moutai baijiu. The meal for three at Baoyuan came to just RMB 109 (US$16) – a jaw-droppingly low number for a lunch for officials in China. Netizens around the country hailed the secretary for his low-key, local choice.

Hot pot is a Chinese favorite and among the culinary treats waiting to be enjoyed on our Beijing dinner walk.

Home cooks and high-end restaurateurs alike have taken to hedgerows and beaches to forage for wild herbs and sea vegetables over the past couple of years. But 60-year-old George Demetriades, the larger-than-life owner of Seven St. Georges Tavern, just outside Cyprus’s Paphos, has been serving up incredible meze based on the flora in the woods and fields around the area he grew up in for the past 20 years. “I’ve foraged for food since I was a little boy. That’s how I grew up, as a hunter-gatherer for healthy food,” Demetriades said.

Douhua, a tofu pudding, is a breakfast staple in Beijing, and among the many morning treats that one may enjoy on our Breakfast in Beijing's Backstreets walk!

Inner Mongolia is famous in China for its lamb and all the different ways it’s prepared there, whether it’s braised lamb spine or thinly sliced marbled cuts dip-boiled in a hotpot. Lamb roasted whole is always a great choice, but the more common version (and the one you won’t need to pre-order days in advance) is roasted lamb leg (烤羊腿, kǎo yáng tuǐ). Legend has it that Genghis Khan’s personal servant was worried about how much of the nomadic conqueror’s time was taken up by waiting for whole lambs to be grilled to sate his hunger, so he asked the chef to prepare roasted lamb legs instead.

“Can you eat spice?” the waitress asked after taking our order. Her hand hovered hesitantly over the cash register. “Yes,” we replied. “But... Can you?” she asked again, looking to the other waitresses for help. “Yes!” we responded emphatically, trying to vocally convey our love of the tongue-tingling, lip-burning action we had come for. “Umm... These are Chongqing noodles. They are really spicy,” she said with her hand still in a no-man’s-land somewhere between our money and the cash register, unsure whether our foreign palate had what it took to slurp down a bowl of noodles from China’s spiciest city.

Watching old Greek movies from the 1950s, '60s and '70s has been a rite of passage for every single generation raised in Greece from the '80s onwards. When we were young, these movies played endlessly on TV, getting us acquainted with the Greece our parents grew up in.There were a number of things that both puzzled and delighted us – chief among them, the patisserie-as-meeting-place. The heroine, wearing a pillbox hat over expertly coiffed hair, would meet her girlfriends or potential love interest in grand-looking pastry shops, where she would be served by waiters in uniforms and eat a pasta, an individual portion of dessert: soft sponge cake with almond and cream or chocolate fillings.

There’s something about the produce in Cyprus. The tomatoes taste sweeter, the watermelons juicier and the oranges zestier than any we’ve tasted elsewhere. But the domination of local cuisine by the set meze means you’ll sometimes find yourself plowing through another plate of grilled pork, village salad and chips, thinking, “There has to be another way to cook all of this amazing stuff.” Peiragmena does exactly that. “We want to serve whatever’s in season,” said 43-year-old owner Yiannis Katchis. “We use various cooking methods and combinations of flavors, and every three months we change our menu. This is our philosophy.”

Loquats (nêsperas in Portuguese) are now in season - all over Mercado da Ribeira, the historic market encountered on our Lisbon Awakens tour. We're still waiting for the cherries!

Turkish Cypriot Hülya Çavuşoğlu had always been a good cook but had never thought about making it her profession. That changed in 1995 when, looking for a change, she quit her job in a government office and started a business making and delivering home-cooked food, specializing in mantı, a dumpling found throughout the Turkic world, and börek, stuffed pockets of dough. Business boomed, her husband Ahmed gave up his job as a tailor to do front-of-the-house and they moved to a tiny shop with four tables, naming it Hamur, which means “dough” in Turkish. Located just outside the old walls of Lefkosa, the slice of Cyprus’s capital located in the breakaway northern part of the island, it’s a remarkable little restaurant, serving the freshest of hand-made mantı and börek to everyone from students to diplomats trying to negotiate a settlement between north and south.

Cyprus’s tavernas are famous for flame-grilled meat, fish and halloumi cheese, but go to an islander’s home and you’re much more likely to find a pot of something slow-cooked simmering on the stove. Mageireia are traditional Cypriot restaurants serving this comfort food at reasonable prices. We think Mattheos, a tiny family-run lunch place located behind the Faneromenis Church and beside a disused mosque in Old Nicosia’s most picturesque square, is one of the best.

The manousheh (plural manaeesh) is one of the defining staples of Lebanese food. In a country known for its divisions, the universally loved manousheh might be the breakfast food that unites all Lebanese. A manousheh is a round flatbread cooked in a big oven or on top of a saj (a domed oven prevalent in the Levant), traditionally topped with zaater (a mix of thyme, olive oil, sesame seeds and sumac) or salty white akawi cheese. Manaeesh can be sliced or folded and, much like pizza, they can be thin or thick. In modern times, toppings have come to include a whole range of different ingredients, and there are even now dessert manaeesh that are topped with Nutella. Manaeesh are so popular that there is not one neighborhood, town or even remote village where they are not made.