Lahori Darbar

South Asian transplants say the best desi food is always served at home, not in restaurants. But Mohammad Yunus, the manager of Lahori Darbar in Istanbul’s Kumkapı neighborhood, thinks otherwise. “The taste here is better than what you get at home,” he said in front of his no-frills joint Lahori Darbar, located a stone’s throw from the grand Armenian Patriarchate, one of the area’s landmarks. On our visit, South Asian tourists and businessmen chatted, snacking on chana dal and chapati at the corner spot, amid a sea of blue-and-white meyhanes. Kumkapı– a stretch along the Marmara Sea – was once the center of Istanbul’s Armenian community, but a shifting kaleidoscope of immigrant groups have moved through the area, opening and closing shops and restaurants in a flash.

Piccolo Napoli

In Italy, family is everything. And in Palermo, every family has a fisherman. These concepts are present on Trattoria Piccolo Napoli’s red, blue and white sign, which sports a caricature of a perplexed sea bass and a promise of home cooking. Open the wooden doors to find a three-generation seafood restaurant a stone’s throw from the city’s old harbor with a fantastic fresh fish display, with part of a swordfish sitting high on the icy altar, below a bowl of lemons.

Lil’ Dizzy’s

Don’t be fooled by the name of Lil’ Dizzy’s Cafe. There’s no coffee, and in fact, the iconic establishment feels more like an auntie’s overstuffed living room than a café. Situated in the heart of Tremé, the oldest African-American neighborhood in America, Dizzy’s is crammed with family paintings and inauguration memorabilia for President Barack Obama, with signed jerseys of retired Saints football players dotting above the doorway. The celebration of community is the norm in New Orleans. And Dizzy’s is an exemplar of this – purer than the sugarcane used in its sweet tea. Customers stream in – men in suits, others in shorts, cops, families, out-of-towners, mailmen and more as soon as the clock hits 11 a.m. The door unlocks, and Dizzy’s staff begin to shout out “Welcome to Dizzy’s” to first-timers and “Hey, baby! How ya doing?” to regulars.

Secret Thai

Our friends were puzzled: back after two years away from our hometown of New Orleans, we were heading to a far-eastern suburb of the city to eat. With so many blessed dishes in the city center, why were we out in Chalmette? The answer was simple: Our destination was Secret Thai, a restaurant well worth the trip. Its location may seem odd at first, but it only adds to the allure of making a pilgrimage past the city’s industrial canal and the Lower Ninth Ward. About five miles east by way of the Mississippi River’s bend from the French Quarter, when the condensed city spills into strip malls, Secret Thai sits along another bend on Judge Perez Drive, St. Bernard Parish’s main commercial artery.

Hubig’s Pies: Return of the Snack that Sustained New Orleans

“A pie might seem to be just a pie, but it’s not,” Drew Ramsey, the head of the family-run Hubig’s Pies tells us. We’re standing in the company’s new location, where conveyor belts carry a steady stream of freshly baked and glazed hand pies. Ramsey is certainly right about his pies. Odes have been composed, bedtime stories have indoctrinated young ones, and Mardi Gras floats and costumes have been fashioned in Hubig’s Pies’ honor. In the 2010 HBO series Treme, a drama partly set in the neighborhood of the same name in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, the ashes of John Goodman’s character are scattered out of a pie bag as a brass band plays “Down by the Riverside.”

Crossroads Cuisine: Tasting Istanbul’s Growing Yemeni Restaurant Scene

Entering Mandy Meydan, a Yemeni restaurant in Başakşehir, a middle-class neighborhood of gated communities in Istanbul, we encountered a dizzying cluster of cubicles, each holding diners seated on a carpeted floor and eating family style. Amid the din of laughter and clanging metal platters, we quietly called out for our Yemeni friend Abdo. He opened the door to our jalsa, or sitting room, and welcomed us in to rest on the floor. As we shifted around hulking pillows and colorful cushions to prepare for our feast, Abdo, always-smiling, asked us what we would like. Mandi from Hadramout, zurbian from Aden, or fahsa from Sana’a? The list went on. “Open the menu and look. It’s a culinary map of Yemen,” he said with a toothy grin.

Broast Masters: A Guide to Istanbul’s Syrian Chicken Joints

Those in Istanbul with a fried chicken craving can turn to faceless American fast food chains (Popeyes and KFC are both in town) or to newly trendy spots popping up in neighborhoods like Beşiktaş and Kadıköy. But those looking for quality and something different have a much better option: Syrian broasted chicken (or simply broasted in local Syrian dialect), served at the many chicken joints that have opened up throughout the city in recent years. Broasted chicken is named after the Broaster pressure cookers brand, first designed in Wisconsin in the early 1950s. Unlike an open-air fryer, this more sophisticated contraption seals the battered bird in what resembles a pressure cooker, releasing steam at the optimal time for a juicier, crispier and less greasy piece.