Editor’s note: We’re celebrating another year of excellent backstreets eating by taking a look back at our favorite restaurants and dishes of 2018. Starting things off is a dispatch from our Tbilisi bureau chief Paul Rimple. It was a wet, cold, gray autumn day, and we were shopping for household stuff at the East Point Mall, close to the airport, where we built up an appetite. Our home was being renovated, we had no kitchen, and the mall had a food court. We understood nothing here would taste good – the sushi, the pizza, the Asian noodles with a 30 minute wait – but were not prepared for the hideousness that passed as burgers and a chicken wrap from a world-renowned fast-food enterprise. “Of all the good places to eat at in this city,” my partner bemoaned, dropping her half-devoured chicken wrap on the plastic tray and pushing it away.

The little stall run by Raquel Ángeles and her sister Evi on Balderas Avenue in Mexico City looks like any other of the tens of thousands of stands across the capital that serve millions of people every day. And yet, having eaten at hundreds of these places over the last two decades, we can safely say that the unassuming Antojitos Mexicanos Raquel sits right at the top of our list of go-to spots for a shot of “Vitamina T.” Most Mexicans have to count every peso, and a single hearty meal often has to serve in place of three squares a day, so, borne of necessity, you get “Vitamina T,” a catchall phrase stemming from the preponderance of “T”-named foods.

Important holidays have long been associated with large feasts and for centuries have functioned as an excuse to treat family and guests to something special. Christmas in Greece is no exception: there are many culinary traditions associated with the Christmas season, known as Dodekaimero (twelve days), which officially begins on December 24 and ends on January 6. Nowadays many Greeks associate the Christmas table with a roast stuffed turkey, a tradition that arrived in Europe from North America, particularly Mexico, around the 1820s. It gradually became fashionable in Greek cities and over time turned into a Christmas staple, with a traditional stuffing prepared mainly with chestnuts, chopped turkey liver, minced meat, pine nuts and raisins.

Greeks are not a nation of breakfast eaters, so koulouri, a plain, circular bread topped with sesame seeds, tends to be the morning fare of choice for most people. There is something seriously sweet and fresh about these bread rings, which are sold on most street corners in downtown Athens and are a guaranteed encounter on our walks.

In happier times in Aleppo, a sweet drink called sharab al-louz ¬– made with almond extract, milk and sugar – was a staple at celebratory events such as engagement parties and weddings, Ammar Rida recalls. That was before he had to leave his job as a lecturer at the University of Aleppo and flee Syria lest he be conscripted to fight in the war that has been ravaging his country for the past seven years. Today, Rida, a serious man in his late thirties with short salt-and-pepper hair and a stubbly beard, is working to establish a business selling sharab al-louz and other healthy, natural drinks – some traditional to Syria and others he is developing based on his background in food science – at restaurants in Istanbul.

If we could wind the clock back to 1934, to listen in as Rudy’s Bakery rolled its first strudel, German is the language we would have heard at the baker’s bench, and beside the glass-fronted display cases, and, more likely than not, on the sidewalk outside, along Seneca Ave. At least since the late 1800s, Ridgewood, Queens, was a predominantly German community. Local breweries were major employers; at the turn of the century, Ridgewood and neighboring Bushwick, Brooklyn, were home to more than a dozen.

Considering that Brazilians form the largest foreign community in Lisbon, it’s disappointing there aren’t more “green and yellow” restaurants in the city. Outside of a rodízio (all-you-can-eat grilled meat restaurants) boom that came and went in the 80s, there’s not much in the way of interesting Brazilian spots in the city (with a few exceptions, of course). So we got our hopes up when a new Brazilian place opened in the riverside district of Cais do Sodré. Located on the riverfront, in the warehouse where for many years the traditional restaurant Pescaria served its fish specialties, Boteco da Dri is smack in the middle of a busy nightlife area – its neighbor is B.Leza, Lisbon’s legendary African music club.

Black ice cream is not an easy sell, but Jose Luis Cervantes, AKA Joe Gelato, is a persuasive guy. It’s not just his million-dollar smile or easygoing nature, but also the passion that he clearly feels for his gelato. “Before I went to Italy, I knew about the concept of gelato,” says Jose, “but I had no idea how good it would be. I had only tasted what was available in Mexico at time. I went there and felt the fat in my mouth, the sugars, I can’t explain it – I love it. I love the whole culture around gelato.”

El Racó de l’Agüir (“Agüir’s Corner”), a restaurant in Barcelona’s Sant Antoni neighborhood, has been a long time in the making: it represents the life’s work of the Agüir family, the culmination of their talent and experience. Two generations can be found here – parents Roser and Ferran, who have managed four different restaurants over the course of their careers, and their sons, Iván and Ferran, both of whom are now in their 40s and grew up working with their parents. Mom and dad opened El Racó de l’Agüir in 1990, but after two years their progeny took over the reins.

On our special five-day culinary adventure in Mexico City, we eat one of our meals on board a traditional flat-bottomed boat along Xochimilco’s Aztec-era canals that have been in use for more than 2,000 years and are now a UNESCO World Heritage site. The meal is prepared by locals using products from the chinampas, the area’s famous “floating gardens.”

Enslaved Africans first stepped onto North American soil in 1619, unloaded by the Dutch West Indian Company in Jamestown, Virginia. Colonists first auctioned enslaved Africans in New Amsterdam (now New York City), New York, in 1626. According to the New York Historical Society, during the colonial period, 41 percent of the city's households had enslaved peoples, compared to 6 percent in Philadelphia and 2 percent in Boston. Only Charleston, South Carolina, rivaled New York in the degree to which slavery entered everyday life. By 1756, enslaved Africans made up about 25 percent of the populations of Kings, Queens, Richmond, New York and Westchester counties, says historian Douglas Harper. Because of a longer and colder winter, the lives of Queens County and Long Island slaves differed from those of their southern counterparts.

Elena Ferrante’s much-loved novel My Brilliant Friend and its sequels seduced the literary world. And now a new television adaption, which recently debuted on HBO, is bringing this coming-of-age story set in Naples to an even broader audience. Over the course of what many call the Neapolitan novels, the two main characters, friends Lila and Elena, traverse the city. We decided to follow in their (fictional) footsteps, albeit with a focus on all things food.

Before the tourists discovered Tbilisi, Kote Apkhazi Street was Leselidze Street, an unassuming cobblestone ribbon connecting Old Town’s bath district, Abanotubani, with Freedom Square. Home to the Georgian Synagogue, the Armenian Holy Church of Nazareth, and Father of The Cross Church, no other street represents the capital’s multi-ethnic and multi-denominational heritage better. Other than these houses of God, Leselidze hosted several religious shops, a couple of unremarkable restaurants, second-hand clothes shops and mom-and-pop groceries. No one foresaw the flocks of visitors that would invade the Old Town with their selfie sticks, but people understood the location had a future.

It’s 9 o’clock in the morning and the narrow streets that fringe Inokashira Park are largely empty. This part of Kichijoji, a lively neighborhood in west Tokyo, has yet to wake up. Storefront shutters are yet to be lifted; staff inside cafés can be glimpsed preparing for the day. Yet, on one corner, a couple of girls duck into an enclosed alleyway and reappear five minutes later. Next, a solo lady strides inside, emerging after a minute or two. People drift in and out, marking an unusual pattern of activity. This is the entrance to Kooriya Peace, a renowned kakigori (shaved ice) store that’s so popular customers secure their dessert hours in advance – although for early birds it might become their breakfast.

A customer haggles with a vendor selling freshly plucked village chickens and turkeys in Tbilisi’s Dezerter’s Bazaar. This raw, disorganized, 2,000-square-meter warren of unprocessed agrarian goods is the city’s largest open-air market and the focal point of our culinary walk in the city.