When I first visited Montreal, it was during a blizzard. I was in my 20s, at an inflection point in my life, and the weather felt portentous. Somewhere between having a smoked-meat sandwich at the counter of Schwartz’s and barely making it up the charming but icy spiral staircases that are characteristic of the city’s architecture, I fell hard for the place—though, luckily, not down the stairs. Before I knew it, I had abandoned my plans for grad school and moved to La Belle Province to start a new life.
People come to Montreal for all sorts of reasons—the old European buildings, the parade of festivals, the easy-to-access nature. But the primary reason I moved was for the energy I derived from the people. And there is no better way to experience this feeling than through dining. It’s there in top restaurants like Lawrence, Vin Mon Lapin, Mastard, or Beba, where the kitchens hum in fierce dedication to the terroir of Quebec. It drifts across the patio at Buvette Chez Simone, which has been serving natural wine since 2008.
As one of the oldest cities in Canada, Montreal is built on a smaller, more human scale, and everything feels within reach. I can start the morning with a fresh sesame bagel at Fairmount and chase it with an old-school Italian cappuccino at Café Olimpico. If it’s warm, I’ll sip my coffee outside in the sun. Inevitably, a friend will pass by and we’ll embark on a walking brunch, stopping for chocolate babka at Hof Kelsten, croissants made at Automne Boulangerie’s on-site mill, and a tamago sando at Ohayo Café. Montreal is also relatively affordable, and the daily pace matches that ease of living. There is always time to linger with locals over drinks at Buvette Chez Simone, which can lead to a microbrew and a burger at Isle de Garde, take-out Portuguese roast chicken from Ma Poule Mouillée, or northern Thai whole fried fish at Pichai.
Depending on the season, the city is either covered in snow or drenched in sunshine. Take a cue from Montrealers to figure out how to make the best of both: When the days get warmer and I see the dizzying array of summer produce at Marché Jean-Talon, it feels like we’ve all won the lottery, and the smiles of fellow marketgoers confirm this. There are plenty of choices for lunch nearby, but few are as good as the poutine at Chez Tousignant with a generous helping of fresh cheese curds, a slice of the soppressata pie with honey at Pizza Bouquet, or the fiery Szechuan chili-oil-soaked noodles at J’ai Feng.
Other places are evergreen. There is never a bad season to hold hands over a romantic meal at Alma or Heni or to gather with friends for a lively dinner at Marci or Satay Brothers. The places I love the most, though, are the ones I know by heart, like L’Express, a French bistro and Montreal institution where I grab a bar seat after a long day. I start with the liver pâté and cornichons. The servers don’t miss a beat and bring a glass of light red wine from the Loire Valley. Watching my fellow diners in the mirror behind the bar always steadies my heart. Sixteen years after that fateful first visit, Montreal is still inviting me to move more slowly and to stay for one more glass.
This article appeared in the November 2024 issue of Condé Nast Traveler. Subscribe to the magazine here.
