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It was quiet when I stepped into the Farmers Diner in Quechee, Vt. At eight in the morning, the vintage dining car smelled of syrup and grease, just like it should. I slid up to the worn marble counter and planted myself on a red-vinyl stool. The waitress nodded at me, as if to say, "I'll get there when I get there." By the look of it, the Farmers was just like any other New England diner. At least until I picked up the menu. It wasn't that I didn't recognize the food; there were classics like omelets and club sandwiches. It was the ingredients that caught me off guard. Eggs from a farm down the road. Bacon smoked over ground corncob and maple shavings from just north of town. Leave it to Vermonters to turn a blue-plate special green. Across the state, Yankee practicality is blending with back-to-the-land values in the form of diners that promote local foods. On any given day, three quarters of the ingredients at the Farmers come from within a 70-mile radius. Statewide, at least half a dozen other diners are following a similar path. The Farmers Dinerwas my first stop on a four-point greasy-spoon tour of southern and central Vermont (5573 Woodstock Rd. Rte. 4, entrées from $5). From there, I headed south down Route 5, a two-lane road that parallels busy Interstate 91 and hugs the Connecticut River. Rather than speed down the highway, I chose to take my time, cutting through farmland and passing from one former mill town to the next: Windsor and Bellows Falls (both a little down on their heels), and finally, Brattleboro, a small riverfront city resurrected in recent years by artists and entrepreneurs, as evidenced by the new galleries, brewpubs, and meditation centers set up in old brick storefronts. In many ways, mill towns like these are the reason that diners exist. In the late 1800s, mobile lunch wagons would park outside mills and factories to feed workers on the late shift. They were bawdy places filled with factory men, and in an effort to draw more customers, proprietors began sprucing them up. The wheels came off. The names were feminized to make them more approachable. (Ever notice how many diner names begin with "Miss"?) And the diner as we now know it began to take shape, driven by a handful of manufacturers, such as Worcester in Massachusetts and Silk City in New Jersey, that modeled their wagons after railroad dining cars. Just outside Brattleboro, I pulled up to a picture-perfect example: The Chelsea Royal Diner, a 1938 Worcester lunch car (487 Marlboro Rd. Rte. 9, West Brattleboro, chelsearoyaldiner.com, entrées from $6). Inside, I grabbed a booth beneath the classic barreled ceiling. Like the Farmers, the Chelsea Royal showcases local food: A garden out back supplies fresh greens and tomatoes; omelets are made with eggs from a henhouse on the property. I asked Kristy, a waitress in milkmaid braids, what was good that day, and she told me the peach cobbler had just come out of the oven. "The peaches traveled down from Dutton's this afternoon," she said, referring to a farm stand I had passed earlier. It's tempting to think of Vermont's local-foods movement as just that, a movement. But, really, it's a continuation. Farming (and eating) has always been locally oriented here. Green diners might seem like by-products of our Michael Pollan–inspired times, but they're at least an equal part old-fashioned Yankee practicality. This point was driven home to me at theBlue Benn Dinerin Bennington (318 North St. Rte. 7, 802/442-5140, entrées from $2). I had left Brattleboro that morning and made my way across southern Vermont on Route 9, weaving through pine forests, past the overlook at Hogback Mountain, and through Wilmington, a whitewashed town with flower baskets hanging from the bridges. The Blue Benn, a 1949 Silk City chrome dining car, has been packing in crowds for decades. I settled onto a stool in front of a mini jukebox at the counter. Dozens of signs tacked to the wall touted an eclectic mix of specials—everything from nut burgers to pumpkin-pecan pancakes. I ordered the veggie enchiladas, filled with zucchini, onions, and tomatoes, and topped with Vermont cheddar. The vegetables, the waitress told me, come from owner Sonny Monroe's garden, and the menu changes based on the morning's yield. "When it's cleaning-out-the-garden time, it's gazpacho time," she said. Does it get more Yankee than that? Like Brattleboro, the town of Bennington has witnessed a small rebirth in recent years. I spent the rest of my afternoon poking around pottery and antiques stores and cooling my heels at The Eddington House Inn, an elegant and uncluttered 1857 gray-clapboard B&B (21 Main St., eddingtonhouseinn.com, from $109). The next morning, I woke up to stuffed French toast and a yogurt parfait topped with raspberries, and then set out on Route 7A, heading north through Green Mountain National Forest. At Manchester, I dodged the traffic aimed for the dozens of designer outlets nearby (even in Vermont, you can't wear Birkenstocks all the time) and veered northwest to the off-the-beaten-track town of Castleton. Fifteen miles west of Rutland, Castleton (population 4,000) is not the kind of place you'd visit—unless you're on a diner tour. But I could see immediately that the Birdseye Dinerwas worth the detour (590 Main St., birdseyediner.com, entrées from $11). The gleaming 1940s Silk City car sits on Main Street, just across from the clapboard Castleton Village Store. Inside, a group of Castleton State College kids were eating blueberry pancakes under an art deco clock. I ordered the meatloaf and mashed potatoes and paired it with a summer ale from Otter Creek, a brewery in nearby Middlebury. I asked the waitress if the diner's owner bought ingredients from area farms. "Well, yeah, the eggs and lettuce are local," she said. "But the milk? Um, no, that's from Rutland." I guess in Vermont, 15 miles may as well be 1,500.

BAG Reisenthel's insulated aluminum-and-polyester tote hauls farmers market finds or picnic fixings with equal ease, and it even works as a durable carry-on. touchofeurope.net, $40. SANDWICH GUARD You may get manhandled going through airport security, but thanks to this BPA-free plastic case, your homemade PB&J won't. bananaguard.com, $7. WINE CARRIER Made from the same neoprene as a wet suit, Built NY's wine carrier cushions souvenir bottles of Sancerre and keeps contents chilled for up to four hours. builtny.com, $16. WATER BOTTLE This sunny, Karim Rashid–designed bottle comes with a built-in carbon filter to make potable tap water cleaner and fresher-tasting. waterbobble.com, $10. SNACK POUCH While we love Ziplocs, disposable baggies aren't exactly ecofriendly. Abeego Snack's beeswax-coated hemp cone is easily rinsed out, so today's strawberries won't taint tomorrow's trail mix. betterbabybums.com, $13. PLACE MAT Trust us: You want a protective layer between your food and that seat-back tray table. This plastic-lined foldable place mat, in cheeky red and white checks, does just that—and doubles as a Velcro-sealed sandwich wrapper. wrap-n-mat.com, $9.

Adam Richman eats food for a living. Lots of it. As the intrepid host of the Travel Channel's Man v. Food, Richman takes on feats of consumption—the country's hottest curry, a 72-ounce steak, a 10-pound super-stuffed pizza—in cities around the nation. It's both an exercise in indulgence and a showcase for the foods that separate Charleston, S.C., from Columbus, Ohio, and Austin from Atlanta. But Richman isn't just into volume: For the past decade, the 36-year-old New Yorker has cultivated strategies and techniques for nosing out authentic fare anywhere he goes. You've just landed in an unfamiliar city. How do you zero in on the best food? First, I'll do some recon before I leave. I'll send out an open question on Twitter and then check out Yelp, because I feel like you're getting "the people's" opinion that way. Once I get there, I avoid advice from concierges and cabbies, because they may have an ulterior motive to send you someplace. Instead, I go to the service-industry workers: the bellhops, the cleaning ladies, the guys who work in the parking garage. So what's the last great recommendation you got from a bellhop? I was in Baltimore for the show, and we were planning to eat crab at Obrycki's, a place everyone knows. I got into a conversation at my hotel with two bellmen and a housekeeper, and they told me about G&M, out in a suburb called Linthicum Heights. The crab cakes were a revelation; they had a texture similar to quiche (gandmcrabcakes.com, from $17). The waitresses were chill and friendly—not like at a tourist trap, where they just want to turn tables. It was Baltimore at its most real. What's the most interesting food city in America? It's a three-way tie. Austin, because it's a center of Tejano culture and Tex-Mex cuisine, as well as an amazing barbecue town. Portland, Ore., because of the fresh produce and seafood, the Saturday Market, which is the best food market in the country, and Voodoo Doughnut, where you can get a Bacon Maple Bar (a maple-syrup-glazed doughnut topped with bacon). And last, Charleston, S.C., because of the Gullah Low Country cuisine, which weaves seafood into classic Southern food better than anywhere else. All travelers overeat once in a while—and pay for it later. How do you handle "the burn?" Zantac. I'm one with the mighty Z. "My Last Meal" I would start with a couple of stone crab claws from Joe's Stone Crab Restaurant in Miami Beach, Fla. (joesstonecrab.com); then some slow-roasted pork from Brasa in Minneapolis (brasa.us); and one link of Bahama Mama sausage from Schmidt's in Columbus, Ohio (schmidthaus.com). Man, this is tough...then some king crab from Alaska, like from Humpy's Great Alaskan Alehouse in Anchorage (humpys.com); the guacamole from Austin's Juan In A Million (juaninamillion.com); half of an Al's Italian beef sandwich in Chicago (alsbeef.com); and a taco from Lucha Libre in San Diego (tacosmackdown.com). Look, if it's my last meal, trust me, I will put all my eating challenges to shame. I'll eat for a week. Man v. Food airs on the Travel Channel Wednesdays at 10 p.m. Follow Richman at twitter.com/adamrichman.

Anyone who's ever bought fresh steamed crab from a Bangkok canal boat or sampled hot, crisp frites on a Brussels sidewalk knows that not all stellar meals are served in courses—or even come with silverware. In fact, certain cities around the globe have cult followings built entirely around their street-food cultures. Below, a definitive guide to seeking out the best bites in the world's most bountiful (and greasy-fingered) destinations. 1. Portland, Ore. With more than 400 carts selling everything from Korean tacos to Carolina-style barbecue, Portland is a microcosm of mobile meals. Lunchtime crowds gather near SW 10th Avenue and SW Alder Street; later on, night owls head across the river to SE 12th Avenue and SE Hawthorne Boulevard for deep-fried cherry pies and savory crepes, served until 2 a.m. 2. Los Angeles Talk about a turf war. Near L.A.'s MacArthur Park (at South Park View Street between Wilshire Boulevard and West 7th Street), old-school vendors trade in Salvadoran pupusas plump with cheese and edible loroco flowers while a new wave of roving trucks tweet their daily locations and dole out custom ice cream sandwiches (@coolhaus) and buttery grilled cheese (@grlldcheesetruk). 3. Ensenada, Mexico It's a rare city in Mexico that doesn't have great street food, but the tacos de pescado in the Baja port town of Ensenada, demand a special pilgrimage. Join the masses at the city's fish market for corn tortillas piled high with battered fried halibut, shredded cabbage, pickled onions, avocado, jalapeños, and sweet-tangy crema-mayonnaise sauce. Street Smarts: Look for the long lines. Certain vendors are more popular than others for a reason, and a few extra minutes of waiting will almost always be worth it. 4. Philadelphia The nation's first capital is also home to some of its oldest and most beloved portable fare: soft pretzels, Italian ices, and, of course, cheesesteaks, now being reimagined in Vietnamese and Mexican versions. Locals get theirs at the century-old, seven-block-long Philadelphia's 9th Street Italian Market, open daily (italianmarketphilly.org). Street Smarts: When local water quality is in question, opt for hot drinks, and watch the preparation closely (did that tea boil for a full five minutes?). 5. Puerto Rico The food stands along Piñones Road about 30 miles east of San Juan make some of the island's best frituras, or fried snacks: coconut arepas, piononos (plantains stuffed with beef), and bacalaítos, a mixture of pancake dough and salted cod. If you hit the strip around sunset, you might even catch an impromptu salsa-thon. 6. Rio de Janeiro Health-conscious Cariocas, as locals are known, hit up Ipanema's Sunday market in Praça General Osório square, open from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m., for grilled-shrimp skewers and the occasional dessert splurge: churros stuffed with dulce de leche. The less guilt-inducing alternative: a fresh coconut drink or an açaí shake from one of the stands along Copacabana Beach. 7. Marrakech In the city's rambling medina, grilled-meat hawkers will cook to order any cut you bring from one of the many nearby butchers. In the evening, head to the night market at Jemaa el-Fna and settle in at the communal tables for chickpea stew, boiled snails, and strong mint tea poured the traditional way: from a pot held perilously high above the glass. 8. Brussels Art nouveau architecture, the European Union headquarters: Who cares? Brussels is all about the frites (which, we assume, account for the bulk of the nearly 250 pounds of potatoes a typical Belgian consumes annually). At the city's standard-bearer, the Maison Antoine kiosk in Place Jourdan, the secret to success is in the sauces: pineapple ketchup, beer-flavored carbonnade, and mayonnaise so it's almost a dish unto itself. 9. Vienna Stroll the city center and you'll encounter numerous Imbisses, stands selling sausages and sliced Leberkäse (a baked loaf of ground beef and pork) topped with mustard and folded into Semmel rolls. And to try the local caffeine fix of choice, head to the cafés of the 18th-century riverside Naschmarkt for a Wiener Melange, an espresso drink with steamed milk and whipped cream. 10. Istanbul Happily for all the travelers who make their base in the Sultanahmet district (home to the Hagia Sophia), the stalls beside the nearby Grand Bazaar can compete with any in this food-rich city. Have your pick of mussel skewers in garlic sauce, grilled corn, roasted chestnuts, and permutations of kebab too plentiful to count. (Feeling adventurous? Try the kokoreç, chopped lamb intestines seasoned with hot pepper and oregano.) Street Smarts: Bring your own plates and utensils. Illness is often spread through improper washing; this is one way to cut the risk. If you see locals doing the same, consider it a must. 11. Tel Aviv Mouthwatering falafel abounds throughout the Middle East, but this waterfront city is also home to a unique treasure: the Iraqi Jewish specialty of sabich, a pita sandwich stuffed with fried eggplant, chopped hard-boiled egg, and pickled cabbage and beets. To get right to the source, head to the stands of neighboring Ramat Gan, where the dish was invented. 12. Bangkok For centuries, Thai food sellers operated out of boats along the canals that formed the city's main transportation system. In recent years, roadside cafés have all but supplanted the custom, but at Taling Chan floating market on the western edge of the city, vendors still grill fish and steam crabs directly on their boats every weekend from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. Street Smarts: Fruits and vegetables with edible skins are only as safe as the water they've been washed in, so stick to the ones that you can peel yourself (like bananas). 13. Hanoi The narrow alleyways of the city's Old Quarter yield a treasure trove of breakfast delicacies for the jet-lagged traveler. Street vendors set up as early as 5:30 a.m. to prepare sweet green rice wrapped in banana leaves, sesame- and coconut-filled dumplings in ginger syrup, and rich coffee poured over sweetened condensed milk (but watch the ice). 14. Singapore In its many hawker centres (or food courts), such as Chinatown's Maxwell Food Centre, Singapore delivers a civilized street-food experience—complete with table service. Patrons can usually ditch their belongings at one of the marked tables, browse the offerings (ranging from Chinese fish ball soup to spicy Malaysian pork-rib prawn noodles), and give their table number at the counter.