On Serifos island, local word-of-mouth advice on where to eat real Greek home cooked food – at excellent prices – will take you to the end of a beach road, a dirt path bordering the turquoise sea. Around a slight bend on a corner clearing, a dozen or so mismatched, aged wooden tables and chairs strewn in front of whitewashed house are simply lit by a string of light bulbs hanging between two thick tamarisk trees. Here, 83-year-old Kyria (Mrs.) Margarita has faithfully taken orders, cooked every dish and welcomed her summer guests for more than three decades. Hers is the prototypical traditional Greek island taverna.

Home cooks and high-end restaurateurs alike have taken to hedgerows and beaches to forage for wild herbs and sea vegetables over the past couple of years. But 60-year-old George Demetriades, the larger-than-life owner of Seven St. Georges Tavern, just outside Cyprus’s Paphos, has been serving up incredible meze based on the flora in the woods and fields around the area he grew up in for the past 20 years. “I’ve foraged for food since I was a little boy. That’s how I grew up, as a hunter-gatherer for healthy food,” Demetriades said.

Roughly a year ago, José, the owner of Das Flores, was heartbroken: he had just received an eviction notice demanding that he close the restaurant. And it’s not like he hadn’t been paying his rent – he had, but there were plans to transform the whole building into a luxury hotel. That has become a common occurrence in Lisbon’s recent history: closing an old family-owned business to make way for something more profitable to its landlords. Only this time the story had a different ending. With the help of a lawyer, José managed to keep his doors open. At least for the time being. He’s now a happier host, running the place behind the counter with his business-as-usual mindset.

Sardine season is a wild ride in Lisbon and it is finally coming to a close but we still have the cuttlefish, grilled in ink, at the dockside classic on our "Song of Sea" culinary walk in Lisbon.

We’ve seen the doleful little building a hundred times, every time we cross Tbilisi’s Dry Bridge. With the seductive words chacha, grappa and vino hand-painted on the wall enticing us like a red-light district lures lonely sailors, we would move on, thinking, “one of these days.” Then one sweltering summer night our band got a gig at the biker bar next door to the sad little building. We had a half-hour to kill until show time, and we thought, surely, one shot won’t hurt. But instead of walking into a moonshine dispensary we found a little tourist shop packed with wine, ceramic vessels and assorted knick-knacks. The real discovery, however, were three refrigerators stocked with balls of craft cheeses.

Douhua, a tofu pudding, is a breakfast staple in Beijing, and among the many morning treats that one may enjoy on our Breakfast in Beijing's Backstreets walk!

Even the pigeons of Copacabana know that Galeto Sat's – the old, ugly botequim located on the first block of Barata Ribeiro Street – has become one of Rio’s most important bohemian institutions since it was acquired by the Rabello family 10 years ago. The new owners changed the spirit of the bar, making it a hit – especially for those who love to eat and drink well, all night long. Even Anthony Bourdain turned the spotlight on this place for his TV show, “No Reservations.” The one problem that remained, however, was its size. Because the bar is very small – just 30 seats – it’s always crowded.

Even in well-trod Mexico, little pockets of paradise can still be found. Located to the north of the Yucatán Peninsula in Mexico, where the Gulf of Mexico meets the Caribbean, little Isla Holbox is one of the most beautiful places we have visited in the country. It’s easy to lose track of time just meandering down dirt roads past brightly painted palapas (buildings with palm-leaf roofs), sunning yourself on a tranquil beach, watching spectacular sunsets and eating delicious seafood. Getting to the island isn’t easy, however. There are buses from Mérida, Cancún and Playa del Carmen to Chiquilá, and the trip can take up to four hours on roads that are not always the smoothest. From there, ferries cross over the Yalahau lagoon to the final destination.

Any journey on the Shinkansen – Japan’s bullet train – is the perfect opportunity to enjoy an ekiben, the iconic bento filled with an assortment of delicacies tucked into a container and eaten in bite-size pieces. The term comes from the Japanese words for train (eki) combined with ben for bento (or “lunchbox”). These little jewel boxes are sold at concessions in train stations across the country and occasionally via pushcarts on trains. Different regions of Japan offer up varieties of local ingredients or specialties, making the ekiben a cornucopia of Japanese cuisine. Before airplanes became inexpensive and frequent in Japan, rail travel was the only mass transportation for long distances.

There is a Portuguese word famous for allegedly being untranslatable in any language. That word is saudade, an emotional state caused by missing someone or desiring something that does not exist anymore. For years, children have been told that only lusophones are able to feel saudade, since others cannot express that feeling. It’s a compelling story, but, unfortunately, it’s also far from true: saudade means virtually the same thing as añorar or echar de menos in Spanish, nostalgic longing in English, or sehnsucht in German. If one is looking for a truly untranslatable word in Portuguese, he or she should look no further than right around the corner, to that cheap no-frills restaurant serving large portions of traditional food piled onto large aluminum platters.

This is a piece that celebrates the odd, the misshapen and the sometimes grotesque – in other words, what to look for to find a really tasty tomato. Just to be clear, we are talking about tomatoes from Sakartvelo here. Sakartvelo? You might know it better as Georgia, but Sakartvelo – literally, the dwelling place of the Kartvelian, or Georgian, people – is what natives call their country. And some Georgians say Sakartvelo should be the official name for everyone else too, to avoid confusion with a certain U.S. state that wasn’t even a colonialist’s dream when Georgia the country was already 1,200 years old, but which now irritatingly hogs all the Google limelight.

Behind a discreet entrance on one of Lisbon’s principal avenues, a sophisticated environment with a minimal interior houses a loyal Luanda-Lisboa jetset crowd who is here for the great food – and great music. Poemas do Semba, its walls decorated with black-and-white photographs, is an unlikely find in this neighborhood. Santos is the former stomping ground of the Portuguese nobility; today some of their former palaces have been turned into embassies or luxury hotels. Students and a design-y crowd have taken over as well, thanks to the nearby college. This exclusive African restaurant was opened in 2014 by the famous Angolan singer Paulo Flores, a semba exemplar who has numerous albums to his name.

The ring-shaped koulouri is covered in sesame seeds and sold fresh on Athens' street corners. It is a guaranteed encounter on our Athens walks, and an integral part of an Athens morning. It is also the Greek counterpart of the Turkish simit.

Inner Mongolia is famous in China for its lamb and all the different ways it’s prepared there, whether it’s braised lamb spine or thinly sliced marbled cuts dip-boiled in a hotpot. Lamb roasted whole is always a great choice, but the more common version (and the one you won’t need to pre-order days in advance) is roasted lamb leg (烤羊腿, kǎo yáng tuǐ). Legend has it that Genghis Khan’s personal servant was worried about how much of the nomadic conqueror’s time was taken up by waiting for whole lambs to be grilled to sate his hunger, so he asked the chef to prepare roasted lamb legs instead.

All around Messinia lie endless fields of olive trees, their silvery leaves shining everywhere you look. This region in the southwestern part of the Peloponnese has been known for its fertile land since ancient times. Some of the best olive oil in the world comes from here. The capital, largest city and central port of Messinia is Kalamata, known around the globe, of course, for its famous namesake olives. It lies at the top of the Messinian Gulf, with a view of the water’s blue expanse. Above it towers the imposing Mount Taygetos. Together, the mountains, sea and land have created a gastronomic paradise.