We’re especially fond of Istanbul’s vibrant – and sometimes plain wacky – street food scene. Here we present three of our favorite street foods and the best places in the city to get them.

For a Chinese city as fast-paced and increasingly cosmopolitan as Shanghai, there are surprisingly few late-night dining options that don’t involve ordering from the roving, streetside pushcarts that hawk grilled skewers or fried rice and noodles. Unfortunately, these midnight vendors are not always where you want them to be when you need them most, after 10 beers. Enter Ding Te Le.

In a city that stays up as late as Athens, it’s no surprise that late dinners and even later-night snacking are big. People don’t go out to dinner before 9 p.m., and most restaurants serve food up until midnight every night. Plenty of places are up and running till the early hours, or even all night long.

Hong Kong native and Cha’s owner Charlie Lau became a restaurateur because of a hankering. A movie producer by day, Lau came to Shanghai with Ang Lee to film “Lust/Caution,” and was disappointed that Shanghai lacked a proper Hong Kongese cha canting, a casual all-day eatery that serves traditional Cantonese food alongside milk teas and coffee. So he decided to open his own. On the set of “Lust,” a 1930s period piece, Lau was responsible for ensuring the historical accuracy of the costumes, casting and set design, so it’s not surprising that he designed Cha’s with the past in mind. Walking across the restaurant’s threshold transports you to 1950s Hong Kong.

In the evolutionary process of the Istanbul fish restaurant, there was a moment in the late 1990s when the amphibious, shore-hugging boat restaurants crawled out of the Bosphorus and became land dwellers. Overnight, yellow Wellington boots became black loafers as seafaring grill men became restaurateurs and waiters.

[Editor's note: We're sorry to report that A Da Cong You Bing has closed.] In China, where queuing isn’t part of the culture, a long line of hungry diners patiently waiting for their food is just about the highest compliment a restaurant can receive. By those standards, Mr. Wu’s scallion oil pancakes are, hands down, one of the most sought-after breakfast treats in Shanghai. The line that stretches out his kitchen’s back door and wraps around the street corner means that fans of his savory pancakes can wait for hours, gulping in the scallion-scented air as they look forward to their chance to sink their teeth into the real thing. Scallion oil pancakes (葱油饼, cōngyóubǐng) are a common breakfast treat in Shanghai, but when Mr. Wu makes them, the little savory rounds stuffed with salty pork and scallions become an art form.

Let’s be honest: for most of us, city travel is really about eating. Sure, we make plans to visit the local monuments and important museums, but those are merely placeholders.

Beyond the kebab – and what you will find listed in most guidebooks for Istanbul – lies a wide range of unique Turkish regional cuisines and restaurants with hints of Balkan, Caucasian and Middle Eastern cooking. The city has been a crossroads of numerous civilizations for centuries and, more recently, a magnet for migrants from across Turkey, with every group that has either come through or stayed put adding their ingredients to Istanbul’s culinary stew. Thanks to this, one of the joys of visiting Istanbul is that, in terms of eating, it’s possible to visit every one of Turkey’s varied regions – and even a few neighboring countries – without ever leaving the city limits. With restaurants serving everything from the Middle Eastern-influenced kebabs of Southeast Turkey to the homey, rib-sticking soul food of the Black Sea area in the North, Istanbul has truly become the culinary Babel of the country.

Dining like a local in Shanghai often requires a small leap of faith. You have to forget about ambience and brave tough crowds with even tougher elbows to join the raucous, slurping masses with their steamers of the city’s famous soup dumplings, xiǎolóngbāo. Even with its thriving economy and sky-high construction boom, Shanghai still has a street food culture that is deliciously cheap and easy to find. To become a part of the appetizing fun, just look one street off the main road or wander into the city’s disappearing lilong (里弄, alleyways), which more often than not are teeming with Chinese pancake hawkers, wonton shops or makeshift grills emitting the smoky aroma of charred lamb kebabs.

While even glass-half-full types are calling Spain’s economic forecast gray, the food climate in the Catalan capital couldn’t be sunnier. With packed tables, new venues such as Tickets and 41˚, and Spain’s hottest restaurant, Can Roca (recently voted #2 in the world) just a stone’s throw away in Girona, Barcelona’s restaurant scene provides an elixir guaranteed to cure the eurozone’s worst economic hangovers. Interviewed recently on Spanish national television, legendary chef Ferran Adrià was asked by radio journalist Luis del Olmo, ¿Cómo se cocina la crisis? (How does one cook the crisis?) Adrià answered, “With innovation and taking risks.”

For the average visitor to Athens, the culinary scene remains captive to a number of clichés. The cobblestone streets of Plaka are still lined with tavernas and restaurants ready to cater to a rather outdated and make-believe idea of Greek eating: drinking retsina and eating moussaka under the moonlit Parthenon with the occasional bouzouki playing in the background, or going for souvlaki (the most famous Greek street food) near Monastiraki Square among a throng of tourists. These experiences are, unfortunately, still the norm for the majority of travelers to Athens.

Sometimes a word in Chinese so perfectly captures a mood or feeling that the English approximation seems woefully inadequate. To take one example, the Chinese combine “hot” (热) and “noise” (闹) to describe the loud and lively nature of local hotspots, but in English, the best we can do is “bustling.” To experience what China’s “hot noise” is really all about, head to Wei Xiang Zhai. Not for the claustrophobic or timid, this wildly popular noodle house demands that you elbow your way to a table for your chance to slurp down a bowl of the city’s best sesame paste noodles (麻酱面, májiàng miàn). Don’t be intimidated by the Chinese-only menu here. It may look long and complicated, but over the years, the character for “sold out” (无) has become a permanent menu fixture, collecting dust and reminding diners that once, long ago, there were other options here.