In New Orleans, they have good Indian food, but not great Indian food,” said Chef Aman Kota. “And that’s why we started this.” The “this” in question is LUFU, or Let Us Feed U, a plucky Indian pop-up whose aim is to introduce New Orleanians to the complex regional cuisines of India, while also playing with British and American culinary concepts. LUFU is the brainchild of Sarthak Samantray and Aman Kota, two chefs who began their careers in India but didn’t meet each other until they started working in the kitchens of New Orleans a few years back, though they have the bearings of lifelong friends.

Mitsumine Oda's original idea for 969 NYC Coffee, in Jackson Heights, was just what the name suggests: a simple, small coffee shop. The bright yellow awning shows a wispy "969" – Oda's favorite number, we later learn – rising from an "NYC" cup. The side of the awning, however, reveals that this is much more than your average neighborhood coffee place. In bright green lettering, it reads matcha (powdered Japanese green tea and the beverage made from it) and onigiri, accompanied by the terse explanation "rice ball." Left unmentioned, at least until we climb a few steps to the small covered patio and within reading distance of a review affixed to the window, are onigirazu.

From syrup-drenched baklava to creamy milk puddings, Turkey has no shortage of sweet treats. But perhaps none have intrigued foreign visitors to Turkey as much as Turkish delight. Lokum is famous in the English-speaking world as the enchanted confection that entices Edmund to join the White Witch in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, but in reality, the sticky sweet has been enchanting audiences since it was first developed in the early 1800s. Dubbed “Turkish delight” by English traders, lokum inspired a wave of imitators across Europe. “Lokum predates gummy sweets – gummy sweets were made trying to replicate Turkish delight. They didn’t know the secret ingredient, which is to manage the pH level,” says Selim Cenkel, founder and usta at Marsel Delights.

Pulpo (octopus) is more than just a staple food in Galicia (the autonomous community in northwest Spain); it is an icon, a national symbol venerated by Galicians as well as Spaniards across the country. In Galicia, this cephalopod is consumed at traditional village fairs, and is sold on weekends at street stalls. These stands are usually run by women called pulpeiras, who boil dozens of octopuses on portable stoves in large pots made of copper. The octopus is then served on wooden dishes with paprika and olive oil, or plopped into plastic bags with some of the cooking water to take home.

Sunlight filters through turn-of-the-century stainglass windows as the Cardenal waiters descend in but-ton-down white dress shirts and black vests. They offer a coffee, a concha, a hot chocolate – and in a flurry of dining activity you suddenly feel like the only person in the room. One of Mexico City‘s most well-loved eating establishments, El Cardenal overflows with extended families having Sunday lunch, tourists gawking at the restuarant‘s dining room murals, and long-time clients greeting the hos-tess by name as they pass by on the way to their favorite table. There’s a reason why El Cardenal is always mentioned in the best of the best restaurants in Mexico City. From humble origins, the restaurant has transformed into a veritable institution and has remained an iconic part of the community for over 50 years.

Springtime in Queens is a season of promise, particularly the promise that soon, very soon, your cold-weather wardrobe can be stored away till next winter. Often the weather is blustery and unpredictable, so it's wise to be flexible with your outfit – dress in light layers, carry a mini-umbrella. Provided that you're also willing to be flexible with your plans -- a drizzly day doesn't have to be a rainout – these two mini-itineraries can help you celebrate the season. Itinerary one: Temple Canteen, The Hindu Temple Society of North America (the Ganesh Temple), Queens Botanical Garden An image of the elephant-headed Hindu god Ganesha presides over the Temple Canteen.

In February 2022, when Russian forces invaded Ukraine, after having already occupied parts of the country since February 2014, Georgians responded with anger and solidarity. Drawing parallels to their experiences with the Russian-backed breakaway regions of South Ossetia and Abkhazia, people in Tbilisi organized huge rallies in front of Parliament, gathered humanitarian aid to send to Ukraine, opened their homes to refugees, made solidarity borscht and posted signs in their restaurants and other businesses saying Russians were not welcome. The mood a few hundred kilometers west in rainy Batumi this March was more subdued – the protests were smaller (the city is smaller), and while Ukrainian flags and anti-war slogans blanketed the city, we didn’t see any of the anti-Russian, or even anti-Putin, signs, posters and graffiti that had proliferated throughout Tbilisi.

Eight, six, or even just four hours in Barcelona’s airport are enough to take a cab or the Aerobus and jump into the city. The ride from the airport to the center takes around twenty-to thirty-minutes, and is really worth it to escape from the capsule of the airport – and that feeling of being, but not really being in a place. Here, we give you several options for different layover lengths, all with options to stay close to the bus line or to move about by cab, to maximize your time and take home a more colorful and tasty experience of your stop in the Catalan capital.

A month ago, I moved into to my new place in Marseille’s La Plaine neighborhood. After the moving truck drove off, leaving me with stacks of boxes and furniture and no food yet in the refrigerator, I ventured out in my dusty jeans to find a place to eat some lunch in the neighborhood. On Rue Saint-Pierre, I passed Oumalala with its homey, hand-written signs offering vegetarian, organic cuisine, and I paused at the door. The olive green, ochre, and turquoise interior, lunchtime-lit candles and small vases of flowers garnishing the tables, the beautiful woman serving food, talking to customers, all pulled me in.

Once upon a time, Tbilisi wasn’t too kind to vegans – the reputation was sealed when a malicious attack in 2016 by “sausage-wielding” far-right extremists on the city’s then only vegan café made international headlines. Nonetheless, a handful of chefs and restaurant owners are determined to make a change. Tbilisi’s selection of vegan restaurants has increased since the attack, and these days, even those seeking a more gourmand fine-vegan-dining experience finally have an address to call on at Living Vino Vegan Restaurant and Natural Wine Bar. Living Vino’s Ukrainian founder Dimitri Safonov has long been acquainted with Georgia’s wine history – his first glass of homegrown Rkatsiteli was offered to him at the age of 12 by his grandfather, an amateur winemaker from now Russian-occupied Crimea.

Just about anyone raised in or around New York City – and who loves eating – can tell you about Italian sandwiches. Not long ago, when we raised the subject with some of our dining buddies, in person and online, we were overwhelmed with recommendations. Our list of a few favorite sandwich shops quickly grew to more than two dozen that, we were told, we really ought to try. To be sure, this crowd understood that by "Italian," we didn't mean sandwiches native to Italy itself – not panuozzi, not schiacciate, not even panini. We were thinking instead of their hefty, even humungous U.S. descendants, the sort that are served on a long, flat wheat-flour roll, typically one with a chewy crumb and a crisp crust.

For this week’s CB Book Club installment, we caught up with Andrea Lemieux, author of The Essential Guide to Turkish Wine: An exploration of one of the oldest and most unexpected wine countries (Canoe Tree Press, 2021). In this exhaustive nearly 300-page guide, Lemieux, a WSET Level 2-certified wine expert and blogger behind The Quirky Cork, traces the history of Turkey’s wine tradition, and offers insight on grapes, wineries and where to enjoy Turkish wine in Istanbul. For those planning a trip, the book is as practical as it is informative, with maps, addresses and contacts for wineries and venues throughout the country.

Out here in Garikula, our slice of heaven an hour west of Tbilisi, spring is peaking. It started with the plum blossoms and now the apple, pear and cherry blossoms are popping, painting the countryside in patches of white and pink. Walking along a village path with our neighbor Shota, he suddenly stops, bends down and reaches into a wad of weeds and pulls. “Ah-ha,” he says showing us a little bundle of wild asparagus, skinny, green and an appetizing revelation when cooked just right. Back in Tbilisi, this asparagus appeared in the central bazaar a couple weeks ago, along with other welcomed indications that springtime has finally arrived.

In the tiny Italian town of Cuccaro Vetere, some 150 kilometers south of Naples, villagers are surrounded by nature and an incredible variety of local fruits. The town, which is in Campania’s province of Salerno, has just over 500 inhabitants, and – even more than their nature’s bounty – these residents are known for one thing: their long lifespans.

Roaming the streets of Istanbul at 8:30 a.m. on a Sunday can be a surreal experience. The sun is shining, the seagulls are bellowing as they dip and dive – but the normally bustling streets are quiet. A few shops might be lifting their shutters, and cafés in younger neighborhoods may only just be putting on their first pot. Always a bit of a morning snoozer even on other days of the week, Istanbul is a lazy Sunday city like no other. At Lider Pide, however, Çetin and Cemil Zor are already slinging out fresh Trabzon-style pides to eager breakfast goers who’ve made the trek out to the Ümraniye district on Istanbul’s Asian side.