We meet up with fellow New Yorkers and enjoy the company of some lovely ladies at a pirozhki joint.

A roadside honey salesman, an egg pirozhki at a shabby interstate stop-off—ah, the joys of Eastern European road-tripping.

My friend had warned me not to drink kvass. I didn’t mean to, I swear!

If we’d waited a couple of miles, we could’ve killed our hunger in style.

How to sleep and eat when poor: the CouchSurfing Project and Pelmeni XL.

A western-themed joint in Riga and fried bread dipped in mayo.

Getting a proper cup of coffee in Eastern Europe is a pain, but we score in Prague.

We cross the English Channel, motor through France, and end up in Brussels at dusk, where our first official meal of the rally is lamb patties.

Britain’s suds are undergoing a renaissance, but more important, the British don’t care if you drink in public.

Bagels for lunch in the East London neighborhood packed with Indian and Bangladeshi restaurants.

Maria’s Fish & Kebabs serves up fish and chips—and oil and grease.

A good meal on Air India has us liking airline food again.

CHOW does the Mongol Rally and asks everyone along the way: What did you have for dinner last night?

Shockingly, Mongolia’s capital delivers some of the best Korean food we’ve ever had.

Sometimes it’s better not to know where your food came from. Particularly when you’ve just lost at arm-wrestling to the man who hunted it down.