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This comfortable neighborhood restaurant stays busy with regulars and newcomers alike, drawn by chef Hal Holden-Bache’s food and the welcoming vibe co-owner Cara Graham and staff foster at the front of the house. Arrive early for Community Hour—when a portion of the proceeds goes to the local parent-teacher organization—for snacks like Korean beef tacos and deviled eggs with chowchow. Dishes at dinner include stellar wood-fired pizzas and entrées like Porter Road Butcher dry-aged steaks with Chef Hal’s chimichurri, as well as seasonal pasta and fish options. Guests can finish on a sweet note with desserts like an old-fashioned sour-cream doughnut with Olive & Sinclair chocolate sauce, sorghum ice cream, and a crunch of popped caramel sorghum.

Hidden within a historic building in downtown Miami is Soya e Pomodoro, a traditional Italian restaurant placed within an old Beaux Arts office building.

The bohemian atmosphere is unlike anything else in Miami. The asthetic is simple, but very cool.

There’s live music, and books. The kitchen is small but fast and you’ll be sitting half inside, half outside. There is no air conditioning and it’s a very small space, only seating about 11 tables. You really feel like you are in Italy.

The staff is made up of mostly Italians and the food speaks true to the traditional recipes.

Be sure to go when there is live entertainment. You’ll sip chanti and listen to scatting jazz music by moonlight. It’s truly magical.

Since 1993, Philadelphians Wendy Born and James Barrett have shown a deft hand in the kitchens of their multi-location Metropolitan Bakery. Artisanal breads – able to rival any venerated loaf from Europe– are their claim to fame but their cookies, cakes, croissants and locally-sourced jams and spreads are equally as divine. They have several locations in Philadelphia, including my favorite in Chestnut Hill a bit further afield, but consistency is assured in each outpost. You can also expect to see the duo’s vision (and baked goods) played out at FARMiCiA, the organic/local restaurant they co-own in Old City. If you have a hankering for something sweet, don’t leave without picking up one of their toothsome chocolate chip cookies (or a few).

Speakeasies and secret bars are an ongoing trend in Australian cities, namely Melbourne and Sydney. Down an unassuming alley off Crown Street, behind an equally unassuming doorway, lies Shady Pines Saloon—if it weren’t for the alcohol license on the door and the bouncer outside, you would never know it was there. Inside, the décor is reminiscent of an old hunting lodge or saloon in the American West, with mounted animal heads, vintage beer trays, dim lighting, Johnny Cash on the stereo, and peanut shells coating the floor. Mustachioed bartenders mix craft cocktails and can advise you on their selection of bourbons and whiskeys. The fresh-pressed apple juice and whiskey is always tasty, while the mystery moonshine in the “leg bottle” makes for an adventurous choice.

Petaling Street is renowned for selling fake goods, everything from designer watches and bags to football jerseys and video games. Originally, the street was open to traffic, but it has since become an enclosed area, complete with transparent roof for protection against rain. Bargaining is the norm when buying, but nowadays stall owners have become so used to this ‘game’ that they’re reluctant to reduce their prices too low (like in the old days). Still, it’s a must visit if you’re in K.L. Even though it’s more crowded, it’s best to go at night when it’s cooler and there are more stalls. The top photo shows the main entrance to the street, and the bottom photo shows the view as you walk in.

Over the past two centuries, the covered market at Borough, not far from London Bridge, has become one of the country’s most famous foodie spots. From Wednesday to Saturday each week hundreds of traders gather to sell homemade breads, hand-reared pork, artisan chocolate and all manner of ingredients—plus excellent coffee, fresh juices and organic wine. Plentiful samples add to the convivial vibe, and restaurants around the market’s edge provide additional sustenance for longer stops.

Although the restaurant claims it’s “American” (the owner is from San Francisco), local Greeks are laying claim on this all-day hangout. Breakfasts and brunches—creamy Greek yogurt and pancakes—start the day, then around lunch, diners switch over to cheeseburgers and fries, Tandoori chicken, perfect Middle Eastern falafel, and even a couple of Thai dishes. The eclecticism magically works, as ingredients used are crazy-fresh and the atmosphere is low-key and friendly. The team of chefs is as international and colorful as the menu (and as the ceiling, too, which is decorated with multicolored umbrellas), and Mama Roux lies on a pedestrian-only street, which helps, too. As night falls, you may as well stay for dinner, and try the excellent beers on tap.

On a promontory within Bouddi National Park, overlooking a secluded bay and a short walk to an empty rust-red beach, Pretty Beach House lives up to its (classically understated Aussie) name. It’s hard to believe this intimate retreat is only a 90-minute drive from Sydney city center. Its location is spectacular and historic—spot the 2,000-year-old Aboriginal rock drawings on a nature walk nearby.

There are four guest pavilions, each outfitted with wood-burning fireplaces, deep-soaking clawfoot tubs, and sun-drenched decks overlooking Broken Bay and Angophora treetops (three have their own private plunge pools). Dining is included in the stay, and it’s exceptional: Celebrated chef Dean Jones takes freshly caught seafood and local produce and crafts them into modern Australian dishes, which you can enjoy anytime you like in the Beach House’s safari-chic dining room or poolside beneath the shady gums.

I went to Israel for two weeks and I came back at least 10 pounds heavier. My downfall began with a trip to Mahane Yehuda (the “Shuk”), Jerusalem’s oldest and largest market where I discovered Israeli cheese, halva, pastries, cookies, olives, fresh and dried fruits - I indulged! My weakness though came in the form of the ever so tasty Israeli breads. My nose brought me to this man’s shop on Eitz HaChaim Street – that intoxicating, yeasty smell of freshly baked bread was too enticing to deny. For four shekels, I bought a piece of the pita bread topped with a spread made from olive oil and za’atar, the spice mix ubiquitous to the Middle East. My mistake was taking a bite of the bread before I left the market. I had to have more. The next thing you know, I was down another a few more shekels for another piece of the pita, a bagel and piece of taboon bread to try out. During my short stay in Jerusalem, I visited his store several times and tried out all the other varieties he had. Of course, Mahane Yehuda has a lot more to offer than bread so if you’re a market person, a visit to Mahane Yehuda is a must. For 99 NIS, you can buy a ticket called Shuk Bites which gives you a map and a punch card that you use to take a self guided tour through the market with curated tasting samples along the way – a perfect way to explore the this foodie paradise! You can get to Mahane Yehuda via Jerusalem’s light rail. Just get off at the station stop by the same name.

Just 20 minutes by car from central Paris, the Saint James Paris feels like another world: A stone-gated driveway opens onto a 19th-century private mansion that resembles a bucolic countryside estate. Surrounded by landscaped gardens, this family-owned hideaway is both a private members club and a boutique hotel. The 50 guest rooms were renovated in 2021 by designer Laura Gonzalez in eclectic, mix-and-match styles to resemble a collector’s home.

There may not be much to this tiny island in the French Polynesia but it’s big on history if you have any interest in Paul Gauguin and Jacques Brel. If you are looking for a secluded spot with little amenities, this is a perfect spot in paradise.

There’s no cost attached to one of Istanbul’s most distinctive photo ops, and the only lines are from fishing poles. Cross the historic Golden Horn via the Galata Bridge, where fishermen from every walk of life jostle for space, and tourist restaurants line the lower level (stop in for a drink if you’d like, but the food tends to be overpriced and mediocre). Galata Bridge isn’t beloved for its architecture (fun fact: It is supposedly the bridge for which the card game is named), but rather its views: Topkapı Palace and several domes and minarets in the Old City on one side, and the Galata Tower on the other.

Although the Smoking Goat is credited with pioneering a culinary renaissance in a once-sleepy corner of North Park, nothing else about chef Fred Piehl’s flagship restaurant screams “culinary vanguard”—and that’s precisely what devotees love about the place. Regulars come here for the reliably exquisite staples: French onion soup with what’s essentially an open-face grilled cheese sandwich afloat in rich veal broth; duck fat truffle fries with pecorino romano and mustard aioli; beef cheeks à la Bourguignonne with carrots, cioppolini onions, cherry tomatoes, mashed potatoes, and braising jus; and other creations that blend traditional French tastes with sustainable, organic San Diego–sourced ingredients. While dinner at this rustic, romantic spot is hardly the time to eat lightly, if you want to go vegetarian, opt for the indulgent raclette au gratin with fingerling potatoes, cornichons, and toast, along with a salad of poached and raw pears with mixed greens, pistachio pesto, and champagne vinaigrette. And as befits the restaurant’s caprine theme, the goat cheese cheesecake with poached peach and whipped cream is a favorite dessert.

In a city where cooking has been elevated to a lifestyle, provisions for the refined kitchen are in high demand. And no one has been able to meet that need quite like March. The whitewashed, sun-dappled store on an upscale stretch of Sacramento Street inspires instant kitchen envy in all. Pungent spices are displayed in black glass jars with custom labels, hand-thrown serving wear is stacked in elegant totems on the wood shelves, and a fat-bellied AGA stove stands against a wall of spotless subway tile. If you aren’t a home cook, you will vow to become one after a visit to March. The proprietor, the perpetually chic Sam Hamilton, came from New York and a career in fashion before finding her way here. She even interned with Alice Waters for a spell at Chez Panisse, which helps explain Hamilton’s knack for curating items—like handwoven tortillero baskets, Parigi stemware, and fishmongering knives by Pallares Solsona—that aren’t just beautiful but also useful to cooks who actually put their kitchens to work.

Adobe streetfront: door...window...sky. Color. Much of Tucson, like most western U.S. cities, is devoted to strip malls and parking lots, but the historic core still has blocks of 19th-century Sonoran-style row houses. In the 1960s, acres and acres of the Barrio Viejo was razed, but fortunately not all of it. Today it’s a combination of gentrification and the pleasantly decrepit: attorney’s offices, student rentals, and family homes share this yard-less streetscape in a bilingual neighborhood. In reading about the history of the neighborhood, I came across this description, written back in the 1930s by Dr. James Harvey Robinson of Columbia University, who was visiting Tucson for the first time: “But this cannot be the United States of America, Tucson, Arizona! This is northern Africa - Tunis! Algiers! - or even Greece, where I have seen as here, houses built flush with the sidewalks with pink, blue, green and yellow walls, flowers climbing out of hidden patios and overall, an unbelievable blue sky. And the sweet-acrid smell in the air? Burning mesquite. Lovely! And the people - charming. But all this is the Old World, not America.” The Barrio Viejo is perfect for a bike ride. You do feel as if you’ve left reality-TV-obsessed Gringolandia...if only for a few blocks...