Image BRUSSELS | Displays at Mary chocolate shop. Credit... Mary

“We went back to the roots of Mary,” the managing director, Olivier Borgerhoff, said, noting the return to the original white-and-gold color scheme and prominence of the oblong logo. As for the chocolate, it might as well be the 20th century. “We don’t change the types of chocolates often,” Mr. Borgerhoff said. “We try to improve the choices we have.” That means sourcing top-quality ingredients and eschewing preservatives and unnatural additives of the dozens of caramel, marzipan, mousse, ganache and cream-filled bonbons that are stacked in neat rows down a long central counter, along with glass bowls of hand-rolled truffles, flaked with almonds and dusted in powdered sugar. A 250-gram box is 17 euros ($21).

Another chocolatier, Debailleul, is decidedly more whimsical. The small chain, established in 1983 by Marc Debailleul, produces bonbons and ballotins, or boxes, that are so refined and beautiful, it’s almost — almost — a shame to indulge. The options are limited: traditional pralines and creamy ganaches, many hand-painted with cupids, the letter “D” or other flourishes, and vanilla, coffee and caramel-flavored truffles. Visit the factory store (Rue de Ganshoren 27-39). It will be as if you’ve discovered secret treasures of the chocolate capital. AMY M. THOMAS

Budapest: Paprika

The job of preparing Hungarian paprika was once considered too dangerous for mothers to do. The peppers grown in Szeged — one of the country’s two primary paprika-producing regions — were so spicy that a woman who touched her children upon returning from work risked burning them, so only the elderly and unmarried were allowed the delicate task of separating the membrane from the flesh. But by the early 20th century, sweeter varieties and a machine that extracted the veins turned paprika into an equal opportunity employer and a common feature of all Hungarian cuisine. “Goulash, porkolt, the cold cheese spread called korozott that all Hungarians eat on bread at least once a month,” said the Budapest-based food journalist Dorottya Czuk. “All of our basic dishes have it.”

Image BUDAPEST | Paprika at the Central Market Hall. Credit... Marta NASCIMENTO/REA, via Redux

So omnipresent is paprika that you can get it at any Budapest supermarket, but the chains offer no guarantee of quality or origin. “It might be from Spain or, worse, China,” Ms. Czuk said. “I can tell you that nine Hungarians out of 10 would not want to eat paprika grown in Spain.” Look instead for tins, like those from Molnar or Hodi, that are produced locally.

The Central, or Great, Market Hall is a good place to start. Built at the end of the 19th century its soaring brick, iron and tile exterior alone is worth visiting. But three stories of stalls inside hold their own delights, paprika chief among them. On Fridays and Saturdays, farmers sell their homemade spice in transparent plastic bags. “That’s good,” Ms. Czuk said, “because you can see how red it is. You want a really vibrant color.”