Every summer, sellers hawking bolas de Berlim – custard-filled doughnuts without a hole in the middle – throng to Portuguese beaches. Plodding across the boiling sand and ringing a bell to announce their arrival, they deliver these beautifully simple pastries to hungry beachgoers, many of whom associate a trip to the coast with the sweet treat. A slew of bolas are sold on the beach each year; the presumed number is almost as eyebrow-raising as the calorie content of a big fat bola filled with custard. It’s no surprise, then, that an app promising to be the Uber of bolas has been an immediate success.

A sweet warmth lies just below the surface of Condesa’s über-cool Angelopolitano. Walking through the front door, we were first struck by the restaurant’s elegant decor, which exists somewhere between hipster chic and business casual. Potted plants sitting beneath framed 19th-century photographs make the space feel more like an art gallery than a place to eat. Such an environment would be off-putting if it weren’t for the staff, who flashed big smiles as we entered and spoke to each other in a familial, teasing tone you’d more expect to hear at a friend’s dinner party than an upscale restaurant.

To say that Athens gets hot in the summer is an understatement. Many Athenians escape to the islands, preferring a sea breeze to the sweltering city. But for those stuck in the concrete jungle, a classic way to cool down is to visit one of the city’s many open-air cinemas – also called summer cinemas – after dark. An important summer ritual for Greeks of all ages, these open-air cinemas usually open for the season in late April or early May, when the weather first starts to warm up, and close in late September or early October.

The Neapolitan pastry landscape is dominated by three sweet treats: sfogliatella, a shell-shaped pastry with a variety of fillings; pastiera, a type of tart flavored with orange flower water and most commonly served at Easter; and babà, a small yeast cake soaked in a liquor syrup. The first two cakes were born and raised in Naples, thanks to the gifted pastry-making skills of the nuns and monks in the Neapolitan convents. But babàs, although considered by many Neapolitans to be homegrown, are not, in fact, an indigenous sweet – our beloved baba was imported from France, where they were invented by a Polish gourmet.

We like to begin our Naples walk in the morning fresh espresso and sfogliatella. Make sure to show up with an empty stomach, for this is just the beginning!

We hear it every time we bring up the V-word: “But it’s impossible to be a vegetarian in Rio!” Nonsense. Not only is it possible to eat an earthy diet here in Rio, it’s getting so trendy that carnivorous cariocas are increasingly forgoing their weekend churrasco (grilled meat on a stick) for the kaleidoscope of couve (collard greens), cogumelos (mushrooms), tofu and all of its soy brethren. While Rio de Janeiro’s vegetarian options are often lunch-only buffet-style joints (and we like those too), we’ve been intrigued by the rise of a few more boutique à la carte places. And we appreciate that Prana Cozinha Vegetariana is one of those that does not come with boutique prices.

When we first discovered this delightful ouzeri in Neo Psychiko last May, we were thrilled to have found a place that specialized in Politiki Kouzina – not the cooking up of politics but the cuisine of Constantinople, often called simply I Poli, or The City, by Greeks even today. Ironically, mutual friends had chosen it to fete a Turkish guest, a visitor from Istanbul, which seemed a culinary version of taking coals to Newcastle. But she pronounced the fare delicious, and smacked her lips over such shared dishes as Imam Baildi, dolmades and bourekakia made with phyllo.

The Dezerter Bazaar is a beautiful behemoth of a place that serves as the main focus of our Tbilisi walk. Get ready for its extensive selection of wondrous wares!

One of the tenets of the Slow Food movement is that it’s impossible to make a really good meal out of industrial food. Of course certain ingredients can pass muster with diners even if they’re grown on an industrial farm. Yet sustainable farming has an obvious impact – it’s not just a matter of better tasting and healthier food but also environmental and societal benefits. In Barcelona, we are surrounded by a large number of independent, sustainable producers that, too often, are completely invisible. They work in nearby provincial areas such as El Prat, El Penedès, El Vallès, El Garraf and El Maresme that give forth a veritable cornucopia of food goods: vegetables, fruits, nuts, legumes, olive oil, cheese, marmalades, cereals, flours, honey, meat, fish, wine, vermut, beer and more. These producers work hard every day to remain independent and adhere to stringent standards of sustainability and quality.

After the merriment of sakura cherry blossoms has faded, bringing with it the dreary Japanese rainy season, the hot, humid days of July and August follow shortly thereafter. When summer temperatures and the humidity reach a point of sticky and awful, Japanese people tend to change their diet so as to shake off natsubate, the physical fatigue of summer. In a country where the main religion is nature-worshipping Shinto, most people practice the custom of shun: celebrating nature’s cycles and each season’s profusion of food. Loosely translated, “shun” means the height of nature’s abundance. Each of Japan’s fruits, vegetables and also animal proteins has its own shun, and in the essential and enduring wisdom of Japanese cuisine, that has influenced the preparation of Japanese food for thousands of years.

In September of last year, Shanghai eaters were shocked when Mr. Wu shuttered A Da Cong You Bing, the city’s best scallion pancake shop. The only explanation for the abrupt closure was a worn sign on the door that read: “My family has a problem. The stall will be closed for a few days.” But this wasn’t the whole truth. Some attributed the shutdown to the fact that the stall was featured on the BBC program Rick Stein’s Taste of Shanghai, claiming that it had drawn too much attention to the unlicensed vendor and the government had taken note.

First-time visitors to Astek probably step in for the same reason most people convene at a reputable Istanbul meyhane: Good conversation in a cozy setting over a few cold glasses of rakı, together with fresh melon and white cheese, and perhaps a hot appetizer or two once the anise-based spirit has succeeded in seriously stimulating the appetite. And while one is unlikely to be displeased with any of Astek’s fine offerings, the head waiter and manager Mehmet Akkök is the reason why regulars return. Mehmet Bey brings to the table an exuberance and keen sense of professionalism that comes with years of service in the sector he loves.

The best souvlaki in Athens-- which is among the culinary secrets enjoyed on our downtown walk--will give you a big smile, good enough to take a happy food selfie. The city at it's best.

“Have you been to Bahía, Donald?” José Carioca, a dapper, green-and-gold, happy-go-lucky parrot, poses this question to Donald Duck in the (mostly) animated 1944 film The Three Caballeros. For its beauty and charm — and, oh, the food! — José insists that Bahía (buy-EE-ah), a coastal state in northeastern Brazil, has no rival. It’s a full-throated endorsement, particularly from José: His surname, Carioca, identifies him as a native of Rio de Janeiro. Even for a parrot-about-town who has experienced the beauty of Rio’s beaches and the excitement of its nightlife, Bahía is a magical place. That spirit has been transported to Astoria, Queens, not by magic, but by the devotion of Bahían sisters Elzi and Erli Botelho Ribeiro.

The Slow Food movement may be all about slow living, but its spread around the world has been nothing short of speedy. What began as a protest against the opening of a McDonald’s in the Piazza di Spagna in Rome in 1986 has morphed into an international organization that safeguards some of the most authentic and unique local food products in 160 countries across the world, and even receives UN recognition and support for this important work. In Spain, the Slow Food movement mainly consists of independent regional groups made up of chefs, producers and other food-related professionals, and its influence continues to grow as new initiatives are gradually launched.