When we first arrived in Marseille, we heard rumblings about a most intriguing ice cream flavor. A “black vanilla” whose color and savory taste was rumored to come from squid ink, fitting for the city’s Mediterranean perch. In a city where exaggeration is the norm, we had to go check it out for ourselves. A long line snaked from Vanille Noire, the name of both the ice cream shop and famous flavor. The vendor handed us our scoop, so black it looked like a photo negative of a vanilla cone. Our first lick was rich Madagascar vanilla. A few seconds later, the sweet became salty like the seaside air. We were hooked – regardless of what it was made of.

As night falls, the commercial life in Guadalajara’s popular neighborhoods doesn’t fade – it transforms. Everywhere you look, food stalls pop up, offering tacos, tamales, elotes, churros, and other tasty street treats, all glowing under hanging lights. These spots become local hangouts where people can grab a delicious bite before heading home. Cenadurías – literally “dinner places” – were among the first popular ways to serve meals outside the home. They have existed since the 19th century in streets, garages, and small eateries in traditional neighborhoods like Mexicaltzingo, Santa Teresita, Mezquitán Country, and Analco. These venues serve comforting dishes and mainly cater to workers and merchants finishing their day, providing a last chance to eat without complications before calling it a night. They also become go-to spots for families seeking simple, homestyle meals at affordable prices.

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.

Editor’s note: In the latest installment of our recurring First Stop feature, we asked chef and author Brendan Liew about some of his favorite spots to eat in Tokyo. A chef by training, Brendan Liew has worked at restaurants including three-Michelin-starred Nihonryori Ryugin in Tokyo and Hong Kong and Sushi Minamishima in Melbourne. He’s currently at Warabi, a Japanese kappo omakase in Melbourne. He has also authored three books on Japanese cuisine: A Day In Tokyo, Tokyo Up Late and Konbini. You can follow Brendan on Instagram here.

In France’s oldest and perhaps most rebellious city, the food culture is a direct reflection of its character: fiercely independent, unburdened by the strict codes of Parisian gastronomy, and deeply shaped by its ancient identity as a bustling port. For millennia, ingredients, people, and traditions have washed ashore here, creating a culinary DNA that is not French, but Marseillais – a vibrant mix of Provençal terroir, Italian soul, and North African spice. This is not a city that asks for permission. It cooks what it knows, with what it has, for the people who call it home. Navigating this landscape requires moving beyond the idea of a simple "best of" list. For us at Culinary Backstreets, an "essential" Marseille restaurant is one that tells a crucial part of the city's story. It might be a family-run pizzeria that has become a neighborhood institution, a humble snack shack preserving a street-food tradition, or a modern kitchen where a chef’s dual heritage is expressed on the plate. The following collection is a guide to these vital places, curated from years of on-the-ground reporting. These are the spots that, to us, capture the true, eclectic, and deeply satisfying spirit of Marseille.

Moroccan cuisine, at least items like couscous and harissa, can today be found in nearly any supermarket. But New York, with all its culinary diversity, has never had a real Moroccan restaurant scene. The recently launched Moroccan Bites by Siham goes a long way toward filling that void. “[When I moved to New York] I would have loved to have a restaurant that I could be proud of and tell people about, but sadly, there was not,” says Rabat-born Redouan Lazrek, the restaurant’s co-owner and husband of Siham Bourhane, the chef.

Editor’s note: Carolina Doriti, our Athens bureau chief, was born in the Greek capital, where she grew up in a family with a long culinary tradition. Having studied arts management, she pursued a career as a curator but quickly set her museum work aside to follow her true passion: cooking! Since then, along with her work with CB as both a writer and tour leader, Carolina has been working as a chef, restaurant consultant and food stylist. She is also the Culinary Producer of My Greek Table, a TV series on Greek gastronomy, broadcast on PBS across the US. She has appeared on various cooking shows on Greek and Spanish TV and gives cooking classes and workshops in Athens. The Greek Islands Cookbook is her second cookbook.

Eastern Osaka's Joto shotengai, or commercial district, is a sleepy shopping arcade frozen in a bygone era. Walking down its twisting alleyways of faded storefronts leads to a colorful candy shop whose stacks of sugary treats conceal a hidden cafe called Hakusendo. Built to look space-age futuristic in 1970 to coincide with the Osaka World Fair, this kissaten (a term for similar Western-influenced Japanese coffee and tea shop of the 20th century) is now considered a retro masterpiece. This one-of-a-kind treasure has caught the eye of Japanese TV programs, local newspapers and influencers alike – attracting visitors to what would otherwise be an off-the-radar location.

In Palermo, we don’t need a time machine to travel to the past. Stepping into Trattoria Altri Tempi, it’s possible to be transported by the nostalgia of classic flavors from the late 19th and early 20th centuries, a time when Sicilian cuisine still retained its distinct identity, before the influence of other regional Italian cuisines and, later, globalization began to shape the local culinary culture. This small restaurant, in business for 29 years, is a cornerstone of authentic Sicilian tradition, a place where time seems to have stood still. Altri Tempi indeed translates to "other times." The atmosphere is warm and intimate, its walls adorned with old photos, handwritten notes, and paintings depicting still lifes. Copper pots, terracotta vases, and other unused objects complete the decoration, contributing to the feel of an old-fashioned tavern. At the entrance, a giant mortadella awaits to be sliced and tasted.

When it comes to where to eat in New Orleans, food is the primary language. A bowl of gumbo is not a recipe; it’s a novel of history, migration, and survival. This is a city that communicates its deepest truths – about joy, resilience, community, and conflict – through what it cooks. To eat here is to participate in a conversation that has been going on for 300 years. An essential New Orleans restaurant does more than serve a great meal. It provides a kind of spiritual and cultural nourishment, reminding the city of who it is, where it came from, and where it’s going. Our aim here is not simply to point you to good food, but to share with you places both close to our heart and our hope for the future of the city. They might not always be glamorous – the best booze can come in a plastic to-go cup and life-altering crawfish from a folding table in a parking lot. But they are all honest: neighborhood anchors, family legacies, or community hubs.

Ask anyone who has been in Thailand for a while what its national dish is, and they will invariably say pad kaprao. People like to think of pad Thai or green curry or spicy lemongrass soup as ubiquitous dishes in Thailand, but it’s really this holy basil stir-fry that millions of Thais eat every day, all over the country. Pad kaprao – which is most often made with pork, beef, or chicken – is a ubiquitous sight on office workers’ desks at lunchtime, as an accompaniment to a cold mug of beer in the evening, and can even be spotted streetside for breakfast. Every aharn tham sung (“made to order”) vendor serves it, and such is its unique mix of garlicky heat with meaty umami that makes for a delicious dish nearly anywhere you try it.

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.

North and South Korea may be separated by a heavily fortified border, but there’s a culinary link that defies that separation. In fact, there are many types of North Korean foods that are popular in South Korea, and dumplings are one of them. Korean dumplings share a similar shape with Chinese jiaozi and baozi, as well as Japanese gyoza, and are all referred to as mandu in Korea. Due to the colder climate, rice cultivation is less viable in North Korea, leading to a greater reliance on flour- and buckwheat-based dishes. Mandu, made from wheat flour dough, is a staple food in the north, typically larger, more rustic, and filled with a generous mixture of tofu and mung bean sprouts. Compared to South Korean mandu, North Korean-style dumplings are known for being milder and more comforting.

It might have become one of the more fashionable places in Rio for a caipirinha, yet the simple name of this father-son joint – “Portuguese Kiosk” – suggests humility. Indeed, the pair got their start a decade ago in one of the numerous huts that line the city’s beaches. While the majority of their competitors served the tasty, tried-and-true Rio basics – traditional caipirinhas made with cachaça; beer, and French fries – to sandy-toed beachgoers, Manoel Alves wanted to offer something different.

For years, Syrian chef Syliman Al-Abiad didn’t dare to decorate the walls of his tiny Istanbul restaurant with the Syrian opposition flag that became a symbol of the protests against the regime in 2011. “My parents are still in Syria, and Assad was very cruel,” he explains, referring to the recently fallen Syrian dictator Bashar Al-Assad. Al-Abiad smiles when he points towards the two black-white-green flags with three red stars now hanging in the windows, the first thing that catches one’s eye in Abu Shamso, his basement restaurant.