The late Greek shipping magnate Aristotle Onassis may be world-famous, but no one could have guessed that he would be the source of inspiration for a neighborhood kebab place in a residential suburb of Athens. Onassis, who was commonly called Ari or Aristos, was born in 1906 in Smyrna (now Izmir, Turkey), only to later flee with his family to Greece in 1922, during the Greco-Turkish War. Poor but with a grand vision and a great mind, he went on to become one of the richest and most successful businessmen in the world. When Vasilis and Panayiotis, who also own other successful eateries in town, opened their kebab restaurant Kyr-Aristos (kyr is short/slang for kyrios, which can be translated as “mister”) in spring 2013, they decided to name it after Onassis, a refugee from Smyrna, where kebab was a traditional food.

Surely Plateia Viktorias is one of the last places you’d look if you wanted to find a typical seaside taverna. The square, once a meeting place for Patission Avenue’s haute bourgeoisie in the first half of the 20th century, was filled with refugee tents and sleeping bags just a few years ago. Today it still boasts the city’s largest concentration of refugee help centers, and women with head scarves push prams through it, while Syrian and Afghan lads lounge on its ledges playing with their cell phones. We first noticed the eatery, at the very end of a two-block pedestrianized street called Hope (Elpidos), while on our way to lunch at the Victoria Art Project, an initiative born during last summer’s Documenta 14 art festival to foster creativity in the neighborhood.

The sleepy residential neighborhood of Melissia, which lies northeast of downtown Athens and under Mount Pentelikon, is a rather unlikely place to visit. The suburb doesn’t have any notable sites, and apart from Kozi’s, a lovely South African meat restaurant, there’s not much in the way of distinguished restaurants. So in 2012, when Ornel ‘Oli’ Mingo opened Psarokokkalo in the suburb, everyone though he was crazy. “People told me that there’s no way clients will come here to eat. But I saw potential. The rent was relatively cheap and there was some space for tables outside,” he explains. Fast-forward six years and Psarokokkalo (which means “fish bone” in Greek) has tripled in size, taking over the adjacent shop, and is now a beloved seafood taverna that attracts customers from all over Athens.

The humble pie is perhaps one of the world’s oldest street foods. A quick survey of global food history finds pies everywhere, from East to West, mirroring the local ingredients, agricultural practices and dietary needs of different cultures. In Greece, pies certainly go way back. There are a few references to pie-making during the Minoan times (2600-1600 BC), but most mentions are from around the 5th century BC onwards, when pies were generally known as plakous. Ancient Athens was particularly famous for its bakeries and pies, especially a cheese pie known as tyronos plakous or tyron artos. They were the main snack consumed by Athenians while listening to public speeches at the Agora or while watching theater.

While on our Downtown Athens walk, we spied a grill master preparing his souvlaki on a hot griddle rather than on the customary charcoal fire – as we learned, this style of cooking has enraged many a purist over the years. Yet the result is still juicy and exceptionally filling, so we’re not complaining.

Kapnikarea, a tiny music café-restaurant, takes its name from the Byzantine church nearby in the middle of Ermou Street. The street, dedicated to Hermes – a god of many attributes, including trade, thievery and smooth talking – and thronged with tourists and shoppers day and night, is an unlikely location for this unusual eatery. You might expect it in neighborhoods like Psyrri or Exarchia, where the eccentric is commonplace, but not opposite H&M and in the same zone as Zara and Marks & Spencer. In all fairness, Kapnikarea was there first. And when it opened in 1977, it was an avant-garde sandwich shop, a pioneer in the land of souvlaki and spanakopita. This version of fast food barely existed back then although it caught on fast. Nineteen years later, Dimitris Sofos took over the shop from his father and completely transformed it.

Usually Greek coffee is prepared in a special tiny aluminum or copper pot called a briki over low heat on a stovetop. But on our walk in Keramikos, we spied a briki nestled in a bed of hot sand, another way of heating the drink. Some say that the slowness of this cooking method lends itself to a smoother, more flavorful Greek coffee.

The neighborhood of Kesariani, built on the lower slopes of Mount Hymettos and located around 3 kilometers east of central Athens, has long been a culinary destination, particularly for seafood (even though it’s nowhere near the water). Many of the old seafood restaurants survive to this day although the neighborhood’s offerings have expanded to include other types of eateries – nothing too fancy, mostly mezedepolia, or meze houses. What makes these spots so appealing is their relaxed, convivial atmosphere. It’s a feeling that permeates the entire neighborhood, where old houses built by Greek refugees from Smyrna (or Izmir) still stand next to modern apartment blocks.

If you happen to wander around a Greek supermarket or visit a Greek bakery, you will notice that there is always a section dedicated to paximadia (paximadi in the singular) of various shapes and sizes piled high or wrapped in cellophane bags. At first glance, they look like nothing more than slices of stale bread. So it can be surprising to learn that paximadia (or rusks), once a peasant food found in the poor areas of Greece, are greatly loved all over the country, with many different types available for purchase: from large rustic looking thick slices to small bite-sized “croutons.”

Springtime in Greece brings an abundance of fresh produce. Local farmers’ markets erupt with joy at this time of year – in addition to the cheerful vegetables, herbs and beloved wild greens from different regions, the farmers (already sunburnt) shout out to customers with voices that show a clear pride in their harvest. Perhaps our favorite spring crop is the artichoke, a vegetable (technically a flower) that has been widely consumed by the Greeks since antiquity. The artichoke plant doesn’t usually grow over a meter high, and the most scrumptious part is the unopened bud (when it does bloom, the bud grows into a beautiful purple flower resembling a milk thistle).

Today a residential neighborhood four kilometers north of downtown Athens, Galatsi was once comprised of endless fields where shepherds grazed their flocks. Until the mid-19th century, this area at the foot of the Tourkovounia hill range was uninhabited – the shepherds had free rein. All that changed some 150 years ago when the hills began to be quarried for building materials, particularly lime; workers at the lime kilns eventually became the neighborhood’s first residents. But the local shepherds didn’t immediately pack up and leave. In fact, according to one local legend, they inadvertently gave the new neighborhood its name. To sell their milk to the recently arrived residents, the shepherds would roam the streets shouting “Gala, gala, fresko gala” (Milk, milk, fresh milk). It was this constant cry that supposedly led people to call the neighborhood Galatsi.

Despite the somewhat rundown, seedy feel of Omonia today, for all of the 19th century and a good part of the 20th the neighborhood was the real center of downtown Athens. “No one lives in Athens if he does not spend at least one hour a day in the Hafteia,” wrote the famous writer and playwright Gregorios Xenopoulos in 1913, referring to the blocks around the intersection of Aiolou and Stadiou Streets, so named allegedly after a 19th-century café in the area owned by a Mr. Haftas. The area was a commercial hub, filled with stores, coffee and sweet shops and hotels. It was a place where people would come to shop and while away the day or the evening. Given its popularity, it’s no surprise that Athens’ first large department stores, like Lambropoulos and Katrantzos Sport, opened here in the early 20th century.

From Rio to Venice, from Cologne to New Orleans and from Patras to towns all over Greece, Catholics and Orthodox (along with believers and nonbelievers of every description) celebrate Carnival – the three weeks preceding Lent – with parades, masquerades, pranks, Dionysian revels and Lucullan feasts focusing on roasted meats. After all, the word “carnival” is thought to have come from the Italian carne levare or “abstain from meat” – which is also the meaning of the Greek Apokreas – and heralded a time when many religions prohibited consuming flesh during the sacred fast before Easter.

Since its name derives from the Turkish word peynir (cheese), it’s no surprise that Athens’ best peinirli (πεϊνιρλί, “with cheese”), a boat-shaped flatbread similar to pide in Turkey and khachapuri in Georgia, is usually found at old, specialized shops or eateries owned by families who originally came from Asia Minor or Pontus, the Greek name for the southern coast of the Black Sea, in the early 20th century. So when Spyros, the owner of Peinirli Ionias in Ambelokipoi, one of the most popular peinirli takeaways in downtown Athens, casually mentions that he originally hails from the Ionian island of Corfu – nowhere near Asia Minor, another name for Turkey’s Anatolia region – we are left scratching our heads. Sensing our confusion, he quickly adds that he learned the art of peinirli-making directly from the source, so to speak: his father- and mother-in-law, who both emigrated to Athens as part of the 1923 population exchange between Greece and Turkey.

Greek food has been experiencing a renaissance in recent years – an unexpected byproduct of the country’s economic struggles. Greeks are rediscovering their culinary roots, and the world outside is also taking a new look at the country and its cuisine, raising Greece’s profile as a culinary destination in the process. But running parallel to this tale of economic stagnation and culinary resurgence is the story of economic migrants and refugees, people who fled to Europe in the hopes of finding a better life. While the focus as of late has understandably been on the Syrian refugee population living in camps throughout Greece, economic migrants from a wide range of countries have been quietly toiling away in Athens for years.