We spent the summer in Georgia’s Shida Kartli region, a vast expanse of fertile terrain in the heart of the country that we have fallen crazy in love with. One day, over a glass of local Chinuri wine, we wondered aloud, “Every other region in the country has signature dishes, but what about Kartli? What are its signature dishes?” We asked our neighbors and got a lot of shoulder shrugs. Shota, a 65-year-old contractor, re-called his grandmother’s soups. “They had fruit,” he said. Seventy-year-old Maro said she too ate fruit soups as a child. Thus began our plan to dig up forgotten Kartli recipes, someday.

The resilient almond tree flourishes in a dry climate with very little water, which makes it an ideal tree for Greece, especially in the south and on many of the islands. So it’s no surprise that almonds have featured prominently in Greek cuisine and pastry making dating back to at least the 3rd century BC, or so historians believe. Today in Greece you’ll most likely find almonds in desserts or sweet treats. Since this particular nut generally symbolizes happiness, prosperity and good luck, it plays an important role in Greek weddings and baptisms, with sugared almonds and other sweets made with almonds, like amygdalota, being offered post-ceremony.

Barbara Abdeni Massaad may be an award-winning food writer and photographer, but she is also a humanitarian. After spending quite some time with the Syrian refugees who were living in horrible conditions not far from her home in Beirut, Barbara took her camera and began photographing people in the camps in Lebanon, especially children. This was the start of her book-cum-fundraising project “Soup for Syria: Recipes to Celebrate Our Shared Humanity,” a wonderful collection of pictures and soup recipes that has already raised $500,000. The profits from book sales are donated to help fund food relief efforts through the United Nations.

Downtown Lisbon grocery stores stock different kinds of corn, flour, schnaps, oils and more from the former Portuguese colonies – a reminder of that the city, which used to be the hub of a trading empire, still maintains deep-rooted links around the world.

We boarded a train in Turkey’s kebab capital of Adana and headed an hour west to the calm, palm tree-lined coastal city of Mersin with one thing on our minds: tantuni. While available at a number of recommendable establishments in Istanbul and other Turkish cities, tantuni in Mersin exists on a different plane of existence, with its prized status as the city’s flagship food. Tantuni is frequently billed as the Turkish equivalent of a taco, and while this comparison is not altogether unwarranted, we think it is primarily invoked by those with a particularly fierce longing for Mexican food. We believe tantuni should be evaluated on its own merits, which stand proud and tall.

In the little town of Santa Coloma de Farners, within the Catalan province of Girona, locals have been making the herb-infused liqueur known as ratafia for centuries, with each family passing down their own version of this unique libation from one generation to the next. In 1997, within the county’s official records, came a major food discovery – written recipes for three distinct styles of ratafia dating back to 1842, which are now recognized as the oldest of their kind in Catalonia. These handwritten lists of ingredients (along with other culinary notations, savory recipes and home remedies) were discovered in the old notebooks of Francesc Rosquellas, once the proprietor of a café/restaurant in Santa Coloma de Farners whose name had long since been forgotten.

It’s a quiet Tuesday lunchtime when we pass through Eleftheroton Square in Chalandri, one of Athens’s northern suburbs. Anyone living in the surrounding areas knows that this boisterous neighborhood is the best place to shop and go out, whether for a bite to eat or a drink. From small, quiet bars to gourmet restaurants, from cafés to wine bars, Chalandri has something for everyone. As expected, the square is dotted with places to sit and enjoy a coffee or have a meal while watching the world go by. Most of them are large, expensive-looking, and completely empty, apart from Ouzeri O Mitsos, a simple, teeny-tiny place squeezed amongst them, which is slowly filling up with customers.

These mushrooms were a sight for sore eyes on our culinary walk – they arrived a bit late to Catalonia this year because of the rains, but on the plus side, it looks like the warm weather has stretched out the season. We’re not complaining!

Carnival in Rio is one of the world’s best parties, and for good reason. There are the extravagant costumes, the sweaty entertainers and revelers dancing to roaring samba music, and, most importantly, free flowing alcohol: Public inebriation, whether from drinking cheap beer or slurping spiked popsicles, is heavily encouraged. While nothing can top this pre-Lent bash, a newly reopened entertainment temple in Lapa offers a Carnival-like experience year-round. At Baródromo, you can soak in the Carnival ambience while downing delicious beers, eating well and listening to the best samba music out there.

Walk in through an anonymous iron gate, halfway down a road you would assume to be completely spoiled by mass tourism, and a surprise awaits. Casa do Alentejo in downtown Lisbon is one of the many old-school regional associations in the city – but none of the others look quite like this. Many who come across this 17th-century building think they are visiting a Moorish palace, perhaps a remainder of the time Muslims ruled over Al-Ishbuna. It’s a misleading impression. In fact, this was a generic building that served different uses over its long history, including as a residence and as a school.

On our culinary walk in Queens, we spotted some skulls made of sugar and marzipan that will be used as offerings for Day of the Dead (Día de Muertos), which officially starts on October 31.

The author of 14 books, Carla Capalbo is best known for her food- and wine-centric travelogues exploring the lesser-known regions and culinary traditions of Italy. Her last book, “Collio: Fine Wines and Foods from Italy’s Northeast,” took readers on a gustatory journey through a tiny region that few outside Italy – or even inside Italy, for that matter – know much about. Several years ago, Capalbo – who was born in New York, raised in Paris and spent some 20 years living in Italy – became intrigued by Georgia and its cuisine. For her newest book, “Tasting Georgia: A Food and Wine Journey in the Caucasus” (Interlink Books), Capalbo traversed the country’s culinary backroads, collecting stories and recipes along the way.

Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead), or at least some variation of it, has been an annual celebration in Mexico for over 3,000 years. During the Aztec period, it took the form of a festival in August dedicated to Mictecacihuatl, otherwise known as the Lady of the Dead. Today it is one of Mexico’s most colorful holidays, encompassing popular traditions both old and new. To the Aztecs, death was nothing to be feared; it was but a passage and a continuation to the next level of consciousness. Life was viewed as a state of dreaming and death was when someone was truly awakened from their slumber. The Aztecs’ monthlong festival was meant to honor those who had passed on and to entice their souls to visit once more.

When we think of wine hotspots (or even coldspots), Japan is not the first place to come to mind. But the story of wine production in the country is a surprising and fascinating one, with roots in the modernization efforts of the 19th century. As a follow-up to our recent Harvest Week, we spoke to Chuanfei Wang, an expert on Japan’s wine culture (and one of CB’s Tokyo culinary walks guides), to learn more about winemaking in the country. Wang received her PhD in Global Studies from Sophia University Japan in 2017; her dissertation explored how Japanese wine producers, consumers and cultural intermediaries incorporated Japan into the global wine world from a sociological perspective.

It’s no surprise that La Central de Abasto, Mexico City’s expansive wholesale market and the largest such market in the world, is constantly in motion. From the carretilleros, employees who move produce on dollies and whistle to signal that they’re passing through, to the steady stream of customers, the market pulses with energy. It’s a Friday afternoon when Diana Ávila, a programs director at the market, tours us around. As we pass neatly stacked piles of fruit and a banda playing in one of the hallways, she explains how this is the epicenter of Mexico’s food industry, a place where culture, food and community connect.