Back in the days when we spent more time living without electricity than with, when the police had the sole function of extorting money from citizens, and we were never sure whether the Borjomi mineral water we were buying had been mixed in a bathtub, there weren’t many options for diners desiring a break from the generic Georgian menu of those times. Of course, there were the Turkish steam table restaurants in Plekhanov, but our spoiled western palates periodically demanded more. There was Santa Fe, a Tex-Mex inspired restaurant we can credit for introducing “Caesar Salad” (with mayonnaise!) and “Mexican Potatoes,” spud chunks fried with a generous dusting of paprika, which have somehow become staples on virtually every Georgian menu in the city. Then we discovered a place with flavors our taste buds were no strangers to.

Jay Parker, the owner of Ben’s Best in Rego Park, is a third-generation deli man. Born in 1951 and raised in the nearby Queens neighborhood of Fresh Meadows, he first worked at the family business in the early 1960s. Since 1984, when he took the reins, he’s clocked 60 to 70 hours a week. Yet “this is my dad’s store,” Jay tells us. “His name is still on it.” Not far from where we sit in the dining room, a portrait of Ben Parker looks on, as if in agreement. Ben’s Best is a kosher delicatessen, an increasingly rare business model even in New York. A kosher deli adheres to Jewish dietary laws (by serving, say, corned beef on rye but not ham on rye) and operates under rabbinical supervision (otherwise it would be merely “kosher-style”).

Spring means a rebirth, a restart and, for Catholics, a resurrection. The sunnier weather and warmer temperatures are invigorating, allowing you to shake off the long and cold winter. It’s one of the best mood boosters out there. But the season alone doesn’t fully awaken, ahem, everything. If you’re looking to arouse your sensuality, you can always count on Naples’ notoriously stimulating, almost erotic gastronomy. Yes, we’re talking about aphrodisiacs. The concept comes from our Greek ancestors, who believed that certain foods were capable of improving sexual performance and accordingly named them after Aphrodite, the goddess of love, beauty and, perhaps most importantly, pleasure.

It may look like ice cream at first glance, but this street vendor in Queens is selling a different kind of sweet treat: espumilla. The Ecuadorean dessert is an unbaked meringue normally sweetened with guava puree and served in cones topped with a tart berry syrup, , a nice contrast to the extra sweet meringue.

It was the first of April and an absolutely pristine Istanbul spring day, the kind where one can break a slight sweat walking up a hill then catch a cool breeze in a nearby patch of shade. Returning to the city from a lovely weekend on Büyükada, we were smitten with spring and wanted to indulge in its finest offerings. In a fit of hunger-fueled inspiration, we quickly realized what we were craving: yenidünya kebabı. This spring-only affair is a specialty from southeast Turkey’s Gaziantep where chunks of minced beef and/or lamb are skewered in between sections of newly arisen yenidünya, or loquat, diminutive orange fruits that are as tantalizingly tart as they are sweet.

It’s no easy task handling a 70-kilo longfin tuna or a 20-kilo corvina. But over the past few weeks, we’ve watched our favorite fishmongers in Lisbon’s Mercado da Ribeira do just that – looking more like weightlifters or wrestlers, they endeavor to fillet the big, fat Atlantic fish that usually make their appearance in April. Even more humble specimens, like mackerel, are also at their fattest (and tastiest) come spring. That’s the joy of feasting on spring fish and seafood in Portugal – so much is in season that you can’t go wrong. To get a better sense of this spring’s “gifts from the sea,” we visited some of our favorite chefs to learn about how they are building their menus around seasonal fish and seafood.

Towards the end of our Naples walk, we visit a family-run bakery where we make our own Neapolitan caponata, a salad made with the bakery’s special bread, called freselle, mozzarella and heirloom piennolo tomatoes.

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).

Flowers may be a visual treat, but they are also a regular ingredient in the cooking of numerous cultures. It’s not uncommon to find roses, violets, orchids, chrysanthemums or any number of flowers – more than 200 in the world are catalogued as edible – adding a pop of color or a surprising flavor to a dish. Flowers have particularly deep roots in Spanish cuisine. They featured most prominently in the food of Al-Andalus, the territory of southern Spain governed by Muslims during the medieval period. Influenced by the Arabs, Andalusian cooks used rose and azahar (orange blossom) to aromatize water and make syrups, jams and pastries.

Being the geographic dead center of the country, Mexico City is the hub for all produce heading in any direction. In other words, all roads lead to the sprawling Central de Abastos, the distribution center and wholesaler in the south of the city. “Spring” here is the dry season – the temperatures get hotter by the day until May, even June, when the rainy season begins – but conventional produce is always in season somewhere in Mexico, no matter how parched Mexico City itself might be. But say you’re looking to stick to a “100-mile diet” – surrounding the city there are fertile soils of volcanic valleys as well as high desert regions. So what surprises do they offer in spring?

For 48 weeks out of the year, Meijiawu village is pretty quiet. But in the weeks before and after Qingming, the Tomb Sweeping Festival held every year in early April, the tea terraces looming over the town come to life before sunrise. Tea pickers sweep through the fields, collecting the first buds of the season by hand. These emerald slivers will make up the bulk of the farmers’ annual income, although several more harvests of lesser leaves throughout the year will supplement them. Like wine from Bordeaux, Dragon Well (龙井 – Lóngjǐng) tea comes only from the hills near Hangzhou (although in China, counterfeit leaves – like bottles of Château Lafite – are everywhere). Meijiawu village (梅家坞村) is just a short drive from the actual Dragon Well (or “Longjing”) Village.

Beans have long played an important part of the daily diet in Mexico City. The variety of beans found in any Mexico City market ranges from the basics (negro, tan bayo, purplish flor de mayo and flor de junio) to more unusual varieties, brought in from all over the country. We spotted these big purple beauties – Ayocote Morado beans – on our Xochimilco walk.

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.

It’s Saturday around lunchtime and business as usual in the bustling Beşiktaş Çarşı neighborhood, as crowds of mostly younger people fill the narrow streets. Down on Mumcu Bakkal Sokak, a pedestrian-only street lined with miniscule shops, a line around the block has been formed by those eager to get into one of the city’s best döner spots. For many of those waiting in line, however, it’s impossible to ignore the scaffolding-covered building just across the way. Though the scaffolding masks most of the historic building, it’s still possible to make out strips of the distinctive baby blue color of what was one of Istanbul’s most beloved eateries: Pando’s kaymak shop.

If you were to ask me what my ideal lunch is, I would answer without hesitation: paccheri alla Genovese with a large piece of stewed veal shank for the first course, followed by a big ball of buffalo mozzarella (preferably from Tenuta Vannulo, an organic buffalo dairy in Capaccio) with eggplant parmigiana on the side. The backbone of this perfect meal is the Genovese, a simple yet miraculous sauce made of meat (veal, beef or pork) and a heap of onions (red or white). Even those who say they don’t like the taste of onions are forced to recant once they taste the Genovese (after hours spent simmering with the meat, the tenderized and translucent onion slivers have no trace of the astringent smell or bite of raw onions).