It wasn’t very long ago that finding a vegan restaurant in Mexico City was like finding a friend on the city’s overcrowded metro during rush hour (read: impossible). In fact, until this decade there were no exclusively vegan eateries in Mexico’s bustling capital. This is not to suggest that vegan options weren’t available, but exploring the city as a vegan could be a tricky business, and veganism was a little-understood concept. So unusual an idea it was, that journalist-cum-chef Mariana Blanco was often called a loser or perdedora by friends who found her animal-free and plant-rich lifestyle to be at odds with what they knew. So when she opened the first vegan restaurant in the city, and indeed the first in Latin America, she called it Los Loosers.

Daiji Takada, owner of Chabuzen, peeks out over the counter from the kitchen, which has about a meter-long strip of standing space for one at most. The interior of this narrow restaurant on the very fringes of the hip neighborhood of Shimokitazawa in western Tokyo isn’t much more spacious. Two low tables on tatami provide enough room for around six to squeeze in, and there are two stools at the counter – although occupying those spaces would almost certainly prevent anyone from getting out the door. With the surety of someone well-used to playing human Tetris, Takada deftly steps out and expertly delivers a plate of gyoza onto the table. He has just made these lovingly by hand and cooked them in a small, plug-in fryer.

In the center of Exarchia, a hub of activism often referred to as the “anarchist” neighborhood of Athens, a small minimalist eatery with just a few tables outside opened last April and was an instant success by breaking all the rules. At first glance it looks like a regular souvlaki shop, with sauces and condiments lined up at the front, pita breads being grilled and potatoes being fried. It even smells familiar, but if you look closely, you will notice that there is no meat in sight or, to be exact, no animal products. Welcome to Cookoomela Grill, Greece’s first vegan souvlaki spot.

Loukoumades are considered to be one of the oldest recorded pastries (and desserts, for that matter) in the world – in fact, the ancient Greek poet Callimachus and philosopher Aristotle wrote about them. Nowadays, these photogenic fried-dough balls are particularly Instagram-worthy. Snap your photo before they get gobbled up!

Visiting establishments with a lot of history always warms the cockles of our heart – even more so when that establishment is the oldest surviving cantina in the city. El Dux de Venecia didn’t start out as a cantina, but it became a drinking establishment in Azcapotzalco – a farming community that became part of Mexico City in the 1940s – during the Mexican revolution and has remained an important part of the neighborhood ever since. The story goes that an Italian traveler decided to open a grocery store at the end of the 19th century. He named it El Dux de Venecia (The Doges of Venice) because he was originally from that Italian city. He offered all kinds of imported products from Europe as well as local ones, including deli meats, bread and alcohol. Because some customers consumed these items in the shop, the owner installed chairs and tables for their comfort.

If a gastronomia or delicatessen prepares good food, it can survive for decades. But if a gastronomia also promotes a social cause, there is a risk that clients will visit once to silence their consciences, and not return. At Sfizzicariello, a “social gastronomia,” the food is at once excellent, and the cause worthy. A group of 10 people with mental health disorders run the deli, an example of commitment but, above all, quality dishes that will keep people coming back. Here is one of the best eggplant Parmigiane in Naples, an exceptional endive pizza, and a number of unparalleled meatballs. Come for a quick snack, a long lunch break sitting at one of the few tables scattered about or to order take away. The environment is modern in design, with eight seats inside and four out.

Come summertime, Carmine, a street vendor for all seasons, prepares refreshing granita on Via dei Tribunali in Naples. The semi-frozen dessert made from sugar, water and various flavorings, counters the oppressive heat. Don’t leave before exchanging a few words with Carmine, who is renowned for his ability to strike up a conversation with anyone.

On a corner in Astoria, across the street from a bright blue-domed Orthodox church and in the shadow of the towering viaduct that carries Amtrak trains out of New York and towards New England, Gregory’s 26 Corner Taverna has been quietly recreating Greece for 13 years. At lunchtime in the outdoor patio, you mostly hear Greek spoken as old friends meet and order spreads of whole grilled fish, octopus and slabs of feta cheese sprinkled with oregano. A fisherman from out on Long Island might stop by with his catch of the day on ice for the owner, Gregory, to choose from, just like at a restaurant along the Greek coastline. After finishing their meals, each table gets free dessert, a tradition of Greek hospitality. At Gregory’s, it’s always a plate of cinnamon-topped halva made with imported Greek farina. Down to the cozy dining room filled with model ships and bright blue evil eye amulets, this place evokes life on the islands itself.

The up-and-coming, terroir-obsessed wine distributor Os Goliardos is reached through a tiny alley that opens into a courtyard behind an apartment block in Campolide, a residential Lisbon neighborhood just north of the Amoreiras shopping mall. The company keeps a low profile, hiding Lisbon’s greatest wine storeroom in a narrow garage that counts several auto body shops as its neighbors. Since they keep odd hours, we were told to find a mechanic named Senhor Rui who would let us in with his key to pick up our order. We looked for him in a dark garage, where a man sat, listening to fado on the radio, beside a distressed Fiat. Wrong mechanic. Suddenly a large, smiling man in work clothes appeared in the yard jangling a set of keys.

We bit into the khinkali, its handmade dough indelicate and sticky, as we like it. Steam poured out the newly made hole, and we blew lightly before slurping up the rich stock and gobbling the dumpling down, even the puckered knob. The ground pork and beef was packed with fresh cilantro, the juices absorbed into the jacket. It was a perfect khinkali. A home wrecker. This seducer of a dumpling is molded by the knowing hands of Manana Osapashvili, born in Gudamakhari, a mountain village in Pasanauri, the heartland of khinkali. A professional cook for 29 years, Manana has been making khinkali since she was 10 years old. Today, she is running the kitchen at Sioni 13, located at the Tbilisi Theological Seminary in Old Town. It is a part of the city known for its tourists and hookah bars, and the mediocre "traditionnel" Georgian restaurants that cater to them.

Guda cheese is sheep cheese from eastern Georgia, aged in guda, which is sheep skin. Nowadays most guda is aged in plastic, but we found one vendor at the Deserter’s Bazaar who has the real deal in her stall, which comes from Tusheti in the high Caucasus.

Olivos Comida y Vinos is like an independent movie playing at a small cinema on a quiet street in Sants, a neighborhood just outside of Barcelona’s center. It leaves you with the impression of having had an unexpected, intimate connection with something personal and precious. They don’t have customers – they have fans. Decorated with plants and flowers in a comfortable setting of simple, natural materials, Olivos is full of thoughtful details (enough space between tables, no table cloths for green eating) and super-friendly service. The exquisite food follows a sustainable “slow food” philosophy, where products should be local and obtained in both a clean and ethical way, and everything is cooked with a highly professional hand. In Barcelona, where mainstream culinary trends, big hospitality groups and huge investments in interiors and PR are frequently the rule that moves the masses, the independent, honest spirit at Olivos is a treasure.

Seating around only 20 people, Taberna dos Mercadores is a microcosmic reflection of contemporary Porto: a mixture of high-concept design and traditional food. From a design perspective, the focal point of the small yet comfortable dining room is the ceiling, where white metal supports create the outline of a false dome. Although sculptural in nature, the distinctive design is not merely ornamental but also practical: it doubles as a wine rack, cradling neatly stacked rows of bottles. Wine buffs will be satiated at the diverse but humble selection on offer here, which mainly originate from the Douro valley, the sumptuous growing region that extends from Porto along the Douro River all the way to the eastern border with Spain.

An aguas frescas vendor in the Xochimilco market stands at the ready behind his offerings: there were over a dozen different flavors on the day we visited. He served us an incredible lemonade with chia seeds, a very traditional (and delicious) pairing.

Sweet, fluffy and incredibly habit forming, yakiimo (roasted sweet potatoes) are an autumnal treat loved throughout Japan. But in a small corner of Setagaya, Tokyo’s largest ward, a dedicated shop bakes them year-round. Kept busy by a steady stream of visitors, all clutching tell-tale paper bags, Fuji has a national take on a traditional snack. The slow-baked yakiimo are often sold from slow-moving mini trucks equipped with onboard wood-burning ovens. As the trucks roll by, they fill the air with both a comforting smell and familiar song. Roasted on a bed of stones, the potatoes are commonly known as ishiyaki imo and once saved Japan from famine when rice crops failed in the 18th century. Served without butter or salt, it may seem a little simple to the untrained eye, but cooked right, the flavor and texture render any additions entirely obsolete.