Whether they’re residents of or visitors to Oaxaca City, those who find themselves craving a deep bowl of caldo de res (beef soup), a foamy chocolate atole (a warm, sweetened corn and cacao drink), or simply a bit of chisme – gossip – can find all three at the Pochote Reforma. A weekly organic market uniting growers and vendors that hail from nearby towns such as Macuilxochitl, San Miguel del Valle, and Tanetze de Zaragoza, “el Pochote,” as it’s known locally, is one of Oaxaca’s most down-to-earth markets, offering visitors not only fresh and organically raised fruits and vegetables, but also a sense of community that has kept shoppers coming back after 20 years and five location changes.

Like the Proustian madeleine, sweets can stir up all kinds of feelings in the minds of those who eat them. In Naples, struffoli (small, round doughnuts glazed with honey) and cassata (sponge cake with ricotta and candied fruit) speak of Christmas, while chiacchiere (sugar-dusted fritters) and sanguinaccio (literally “blood pudding,” but actually made of chocolate) bring to mind Carnevale. And then there’s pastiera, whose very scent and taste make us think of Easter and spring. These days, pastiera can be made all year long, not only when the wheat has just sprouted, as was the case for our ancestors. Yet, when Easter approaches, all Neapolitans dream of this tart.

Marseille is home to the biggest Armenian community in Europe, with cultural centers, churches, and several neighborhoods with a significant Armenian presence. Most fled the Armenian genocide of 1915-1922, joining a smaller and older Armenian community of merchants that settled in Marseille starting in the mid-nineteenth-century. The different waves of Armenian immigrants and refugees, coming to some 80,000 people, maintain ties to Armenia, family, and culinary traditions, and many eventually thrived. Armenian cuisine is rich and varied, and yet what is available in Marseille’s city center in terms of actual restaurants and takeout doesn’t reflect that. Because Armenian cuisine is a home cuisine, it is often in private houses that we enjoy the traditional dishes like kabab karaz, meatballs in sour cherry sauce, or manti, clusters of small, open raviolis of spiced meat.

Cheese has a very long, storied past in Catalonia, as we wrote in the previous parts of this series. But what do the present and future of Catalan cheesemaking look like? The 21st century has seen cheesemaking flourish dramatically in Catalonia, thanks to increasing interest in and appreciation of culinary traditions and trends worldwide, not to mention the financial crisis of 2008, which led many people to make career changes or to take up a more DIY ethos. All of this, combined with that old Catalan inclination toward modern design and creativity, has made for a heady mix. The new generation of cheesemakers comes from a wide range of professional backgrounds; many are college-educated and well-traveled, and accordingly, they have specific aesthetic, gastronomic and nutritional criteria.

Editor’s note: In the latest installment of our recurring First Stop feature, we asked travel writer Caroline Eden about some of her go-to spots in Istanbul. Eden has written for the Guardian, the Telegraph and the Financial Times, among other publications, and has filed stories from Uzbekistan, Ukraine, Russia, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan and Azerbaijan for BBC Radio 4’s From Our Own Correspondent. Eden is also the author of the culinary travelogue Black Sea: Dispatches and Recipes, Through Darkness and Light (Hardie Grant; May 2019) and co-author of Samarkand: Recipes & Stories from Central Asia & the Caucasus (Kyle Books; July 2016), a Guardian book of the year in 2016 and winner of the Guild of Food Writers Award for best food and travel book in 2017. You can follow Caroline on Instagram and Twitter @edentravels.

Back when it was called Noisette, we'd passed by Paris Oven in the (not quite) year that it had been open. But whenever we’d walked down those sometimes clamorous blocks of 30th Avenue in Astoria, Queens – not far from a bagel shop, a pizzeria, a comfort-food hotspot and a New Orleans-themed bar-restaurant, whose windows open wide toward the street during happy hour – we’d given little notice to the quiet bakery-café with the French name. That changed during one recent stroll, not long before dark, when a hand-drawn signboard beside the door wished us “Ramadan Kareem” and beckoned us to come inside.

In most countries around the world, it’s safe to say that steak is a minimalist affair – a dish that, in some cases, combines perhaps no more than beef and salt. In Portugal, however, people tend to go in the other direction. “It’s a steak that’s pan-fried, and served with smoked ham, bay leaf, garlic and white wine,” says Manuel Fernandes, when we ask him to describe the country’s signature steak dish, bife à portuguesa, “Portuguese-style steak.”

Mount Everest Deli may appear, to many of its customers, interchangeable with its neighbors – Globe Smoke & Convenience, Seneca Deli Corp., or any of the dozens of Ridgewood bodegas that are instantly familiar to any New Yorker. Passersby on Myrtle Avenue dash in for a pack of cigarettes, a tube of off-brand super glue, or a turkey bacon-egg-and-cheese on a roll. But inhale deeply while shopping there and you’ll smell masala. Peek behind the deli counter and you’ll see momos – Himalayan dumplings – tumbling onto the griddle. Mount Everest isn’t just a corner store. It’s a distinctive, tradition-bending urban Nepalese restaurant.

Join us as we begin in Athens and then move to Tinos, where we’ll explore the unique island.

Sicily’s rich, volcanic soil has borne many fruits: grapes, figs, peaches and citrus, to name just a few. It has also cultivated fiery debates and regional rivalries about details of traditional recipes; culinary wars whose significance is usually lost on most non-Italians. One such debate concerns the proper way of pronouncing one of Sicily’s most beloved snacks: the arancini (plural) – stuffed rice balls, battered and deep-fried. Whereas the west of the island refers to it as arancina, the east calls it arancino. Cue Spaghetti Western music. Over the centuries, Palermo has experienced and absorbed various cultures and their cuisines. The influence of Arabs and North Africans play an especially prominent role, dating back to the period of 827-1091 A.D.

As the call to prayer drifts from mosque to mosque and lights flicker on in anticipation of dusk, everyone around us takes a sip of water and wolfs down a date, almost in unison. It is the start of Ramadan and, here in Sultanahmet Square, folks are breaking their first fast of this holy month. They have been waiting patiently for the loud cannon blast which announces the day’s end – a tradition of old that still persists here in the square, though the loud bang often frightens unsuspecting tourists – sitting on blankets spread in the square’s grassy patches and pulling tupperwared iftar meals out of plastic bags and picnic baskets.

Aghmashenebeli avenue – the main street on the left bank of the Mtkvari River – is well-known for its Turkish eateries and the presence of Barbarestan, a popular Georgian restaurant. But a handful of new food joints have opened recently, serving mainly Indian and Middle Eastern food, and sometimes a mix of both. One of these new spots is Beirut Saj, which opened in April 2022. The venue is easy to miss when walking along the never-ending Aghmashenebeli avenue – its entrance is discrete and you have to take a few steps down to enter. A hint that you’ve arrived at the right place is the sight of barber shops. A Turkish barber is located upstairs, and next door, in the basement, is a Lebanese barbershop called Miami.

Lisbon’s communities from Portugal’s former colonies provide the strongest link to the country’s past, when it was the hub of a trading empire that connected Macau in the east to Rio de Janeiro in the west. Though integral elements of Lisbon life, these communities can sometimes be an invisible presence in their adopted land, pushed out to the periphery of the city. With our “Postcolonial Lisbon” series, CB hopes to bring these communities back into the center, looking at their cuisine, history and cultural life. In this third installment of the series, we dive into Lisbon’s Mozambican community. 

We didn’t exactly receive a warm welcome at Feira do Relógio, a weekly market that unfolds along a suburban strip north of Lisbon’s city center. “I saw you taking photos from the bridge! What are you doing?” shouted a man as he approached us aggressively. “You can’t take photos of people!” We explained calmly that we were taking photos for an article, and that people would not feature in those images. He hassled us a bit more before eventually wandering away. Later, we saw him selling knockoff socks from a bag slung over his shoulder. The rest of our visit was event-free, but the incident was a reminder of the occasional semi-legal nature of this market.

Every day, Yuki Motokura records the temperature and the humidity, and checks in on his pizza dough. He adjusts the flour, water and salt in minute increments, and logs the results with precision. “Even if the data is the same, it might not come out the same,” Motokura says. “Pizza is just that difficult.” While there’s no failsafe trick, he says he’s developed a kind of sense for how the dough might behave during his years of experience. “I lift the lid on the fermenting dough and I have a kind of discussion with it,” he explains. “‘What shall we do today?’”