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Published June 21, 2023 at 10:00 a.m.
Over the 30-plus years since I moved to Vermont, I've made it to Montréal about two to three times annually. While those trips haven't exclusively focused on food and drink, they have always involved eating.
It still astounds me that a 90-minute drive can transport me to a French-speaking metropolis boasting a cornucopia of international food options, from Portuguese-style rôtisserie chicken to high-end sushi; neighborhoods with distinctive culinary personalities, such as Chinatown and Little Italy; and regional icons such as poutine, smoked meat and the city's unique bagels (see "Open Sésame").
Every time I head across the border, I review my extensive list of Montréal dining possibilities, consider the needs of my travel companions, and eventually (and painfully) whittle it down to a few target destinations.
On a recent reporting trip, which was exclusively focused on food and drink, I had about 30 waking hours budgeted for my culinary journey. Along with my photographer colleague Daria Bishop and our intrepid chauffeur and guide, native Montréaler Marie Comtois, I also had virtual travel companions: Seven Days readers, whose varied tastes and budgets I hoped to tantalize and accommodate, respectively.
Whether over 30 years or 30 hours, the perennial challenge is how to narrow the list. There are a lot of restaurants in Montréal: 4,252 full-service establishments alone in 2022, according to the nonprofit Association Restauration Québec.
On my recent gustatory mission, our band of three crisscrossed the city and managed to hit 16 spots, from humble neighborhood haunts to sophisticated dining destinations. In service to culinary research, I ate more bites of more dishes over a concentrated period than I have in my 20-plus years as a food writer. Regrettably, I could not also savor as many cocktail, wine or beer pairings or after-dinner nightcaps as I would have liked. (It's hard to take good notes when tipsy.)
Now that the bacchanalian blur has receded, a few taste memories float to the top: a glass of mandarin-carrot-ginger-lemon juice that tasted like fresh-pressed sunrise; a deceptively simple wedge of cold pizza with tomato sauce; crunchy, quarter-size fried crabs dunked in a subtly spicy housemade sriracha; a cloud of chicken liver mousse served with crisp radishes; and an impeccable almond and pistachio croissant.
What Do You, My Family and Molly Benoit Want to Eat in Montréal?
When I began planning my itinerary, my first question was: What kind of food and drink do Vermonters seek in Montréal?
Many will respond like Molly Benoit, who moved to Burlington to work at the University of Vermont Medical Center after living in Washington, D.C., Philadelphia and Miami. On a mother-daughter Montréal trip, Benoit and her mom happened to be eating breakfast at the table adjoining mine on the first morning of my eat-my-way-through-Montréal trip.
Besides hitting up museums and taking a Jewish history walking tour, Molly said, she was seeking exemplary world cuisine — namely, sushi, Thai and Indian.
I lean that way, too. On previous Montréal trips, I have selected saucers of slippery tripe and steamer tins of translucent dumplings from the endless parade of rolling dim sum carts at Chinatown's Kim Fung (formerly called Maison Kam Fung). At Nil Bleu, friends and I have scooped up spicy Ethiopian lentils and vegetable stews with spongy, tangy injera bread. That same group stumbled into the Venezuelan Arepera, where everyone — including the vegan and gluten-free eater — happily consumed fluffy, griddled corn cakes sandwiching long-stewed beef or beans and plantains.
Several years ago, my husband and I planned far ahead for a birthday dinner at Park. The pristine array of sushi blew our minds — and our budget. Last summer, we ate refreshingly citrusy, chile-spiked ceviche and hearty braised pork shoulder with fried plantains and Haitian pickled vegetables at pan-Caribbean Kamúy. We also scored a table at Damas, where the menu of Syrian dishes included hauntingly smoky eggplant with sheep's yogurt; soft-as-butter lamb served with the roasted wheat called freekeh; and a mint-laden, pomegranate seed-spangled fattoush salad that was more delicious than salad has a right to be.
Some diners prefer to lean into the province's French heritage. My father, who favored roasted bone marrow followed by steak frites with a glass or two of Meursault, was partial to the city's landmark Parisian-style brasseries and bistros, such as Brasserie Bernard and L'Express. At the latter, I once ate a mountain of steak tartare as large as my head. During another magnificently meaty French-accented meal, my husband and I plunged deep into the offal tradition with a lamb heart salad and a duck cassoulet larded with foie gras at Au Pied de Cochon.
Young kids might take visitors in a different direction. When our two sons were small, northern day trips often featured Québécois classics, such as poutine — at La Banquise or one of several outposts of Frites Alors! — or mustardy smoked-meat sandwiches at Schwartz's deli. The boys loved eating Breton-style crêpes at the now sadly closed Crêperie Bretonne Ty-Breiz and exploring Chinatown's dumpling shops (like Alice Levitt, we enjoy Qing Hua Dumpling), as well as buying its magically flossy Dragon's Beard candy. Chinatown retains its charm: The first time our younger son went to Montréal solo with friends, they were delighted to see the noodle makers at work and then eat huge bowls of hand-pulled noodles at Nouilles de Lan Zhou.
No matter whom I'm with, I almost always head to the daily, year-round Jean-Talon or Atwater markets, which have a distinctly European flavor. I greedily gather funky raw-milk cheeses; crusty baguettes; buttery, tooth-achingly sweet maple pies; and, when at Jean-Talon, Moroccan pastries from Le Ryad Pâtisseries and fresh spices from Épices de Cru. (See "Bienvenue au Québec" for guidance on what you can bring back across the border.)
Those syrup-saturated tartes au sucre are among the culinary traditions that bear a distinctly regional stamp. Many are familiar to Vermonters because they came across the border with French Canadian immigrants (see: tourtière) or have gradually crept onto local restaurant menus (see: poutine).
For those who seek to eat specifically Québécois food in Montréal, what will that be and where can you find it?
As with any regional cuisine, the full answer is a complex blend of cultural influences Venn-diagrammed with available ingredients.
One option is to head to La Binerie Mont-Royal, where the kitchen makes homestyle pea soup from scratch, baked beans, tourtière and the sticky maple-sauced cake known as pouding chômeur (unemployed man's pudding).
Or you could try the small Café de la Maison Ronde, which offers some Indigenous-inspired menu items, such as a salmon burger and Mohawk-style three-bean salad. The café is part of an effort to help those who are homeless or marginalized, including Indigenous community members.
For a bigger picture of Québécois cuisine, I consulted Elisabeth Cardin, coauthor of a French-language book whose title translates to The Maple and the Partridge: The Culinary History of Québec Through Its Foods. Now 39, Cardin co-owned the buzzy Montréal restaurant Manitoba for eight years before she closed it in 2021 to forage and write in a small town 200 miles northeast of Montréal on the Saint Lawrence River.
"I have big opinions," she told me by phone while she foraged in the woods for spruce tips, "and, hopefully, morels."
When I asked Cardin to describe the province's food traditions, she lamented that most Québécois would likely respond, "Oh, poutine and pâté chinois." The latter, which is also on La Binerie's menu, is a version of cottage pie made with ground beef topped with mashed potato.
Cardin believes that Québécois cuisine should prioritize Native ingredients and build on the knowledge and traditions of those who have lived close to the land and waterways, reflecting "a meeting of different cultures on the land. It's a mix, and it's always evolving," she said, "but the thing that should be common is the ingredients."
DAY 1, DESTINATIONS 1 AND 2:
Québécois temaki in Mile-Ex and espresso in Mile End
Note: All prices listed are in Canadian dollars.
The inaugural meal of my expedition was an example of the dynamic Cardin described. At the stylish but welcoming Anemone (271 rue Saint-Zotique Ouest, 514-270-8000), chefs Mike Madokoro and Minh Phat Tu apply a culinary approach influenced by their Asian heritage to many regionally sourced ingredients.
Coincidentally, the restaurant's quiet brick storefront is the former location of Cardin's Manitoba in the area called Mile-Ex, around the border between Mile End and Parc-Extension.
When we arrived, around 8 p.m. on a Wednesday evening, the dining room was buzzing and still naturally lit, thanks to the glass garage door at the rear. If I'd been dining solo or with one companion, I would have loved to sit at the kitchen bar and catch the chefs crafting our excellent meal.
We began with Anemone's version of temaki, which are traditionally cone-shaped sushi hand rolls. In this case, the temaki were presented like mini tacos in a holder, with rectangles of nori standing in for the tortilla. Priced by the trio or quartet ($27/$36), each three-bite temaki held perfectly cooked sushi rice topped with a filling choice. We sampled one trio filled with sweet, briny Québec shrimp dressed with a mellow, pepper-spiked mayonnaise and pickled fiddleheads; and another with velvety Arctic char dusted with a powder of its own bones (labeled "calcium" on the menu) and anointed with fluorescent orange fish roe for a pop of color and texture.
Our main dishes included some of the most delicious carrots I have ever eaten: yellow and purple beauties roasted to a densely concentrated sweetness that was offset by pickled, thinly sliced rounds of orange carrot accented with a wisp of anise from tarragon and crunchy maple crumble ($17).
A dimpled cushion of lightly crusted sweetbreads offered just-right tooth resistance. It came creatively paired with the textural counterpart of chewy whelks in a simultaneously creamy and vinegary, garlic-infused sauce crowned with curly-edged streamers of fried king oyster mushroom ($29). Golden-seared, buttery sablefish nestled amid tiny cipollini onions and delicate long-stemmed mushrooms, along with al dente black beans and a generous sprinkle of black walnuts ($26).
We ordered three forks and one dessert. The bitter-edged, rum caramel-drizzled molasses cake was complemented by a nutty buckwheat crumble, semi-frozen, sweet-tart honeyberries and bright fuchsia-colored honeyberry cream ($14).
With no time to waste, we were already discussing our next meal; the friendly server overheard and recommended a couple of her favorite breakfast spots.
Before we headed back to our hotel, Marie, our local guide and invaluable chauffeur, zipped us over to Café Olimpico (124 rue Saint-Viateur Ouest, 514-495-0746) for espresso and a planning session. The Mile End neighborhood fixture was founded by an Italian immigrant in 1970. It feels stuck in time, with its pressed-tin ceiling, soccer team flags for Milan and Napoli pinned to the walls, and even cigarette smoke drifting in from sidewalk smokers. Fortified by lattes ($4 each), we planned an ambitious Thursday schedule.
DAY 2, DESTINATIONS 3 TO 12:
From a "sconewich" in Old Montréal to a wine pairing in Griffintown
When in large cities, I love to walk to my destinations as much as possible. It's a way to get a better feel for the urban landscape, find unexpected spots you might otherwise miss and, critically, work up an appetite between meals.
But walking didn't fit the agenda of this condensed trip. We were grateful to Marie for making our wild itinerary possible and recommending a number of destinations.
While she doesn't work in the business, she has a deep appreciation for the city's restaurant community and strong opinions about food. "I like what's good," she said. "If you're going to pay for something, pay for what's worth it."
Marie admitted that she both loves and hates her native city, being especially dismayed by the constant disruption of roadwork. "I'm a little bit of a cowboy," she said, shortly before she purposely drove the wrong way down a one-way street after we encountered one of the countless Day-Glo orange "Rue barrée" street closure signs.
Flexibility is also key when traveling. After Marie texted us that she was stuck in traffic on her way to pick us up on Thursday morning, Daria and I got to walk to breakfast from our hotel in the Quartier des Spectacles. We wended our way to Old Montréal through city blocks, parklets, street art and a river of commuting cyclists.
We headed to olive + gourmando (351 rue Saint-Paul Ouest, 514-350-1083). This was against my initial instinct — not because I don't appreciate the café's great breakfast and lunch offerings, including top-notch pastries, but because I thought everyone must already know about the cozy, blackboard-walled, 25-year-old spot in the city's most touristy neighborhood. But several people I respect urged me to keep it on my list.
Go early and prepare to wait in line or grab something to go from the abundantly stacked pastry counter. Highlights of the super-solid menu include the warm, everything spice-seasoned, herb-filled, smashed baby potato salad ($8.25), which happens to be vegan; the Cuban sandwich made with raw-milk Gruyère and housemade mayo and bread ($23.95); and the tender, buttery, sea-salted "sconewich" filled with thinly sliced ham, aged cheddar, cultured butter and peach jam ($10.95).
We finished breakfast with 90 minutes to get hungry for our lunch reservation. On the drive, we stopped in the Plateau Mont-Royal neighborhood at Les Chocolats de Chloé (546 Duluth Est, 514-849-5550), where one can see the chocolatiers and ice cream makers working behind the counter crafting delicacies such as handmade truffles ($2 each) in flavors including passion fruit, Earl Grey and cardamom. I breathed in the rich scent of chocolate, relieved that I could take truffles home for a later day.
At a second delectably odiferous destination a couple of blocks away, the smell of charcoal-grilled chicken hit my nose as soon as we opened the car door. Ma Poule Mouillée (969 rue Rachel Est, 514-522-5175) is my go-to for Portuguese rôtisserie chicken. There is often a line, but it moves fast. Order the Louis Cyr half chicken ($17) to share with a friend. I usually ask for an off-menu option: the paprika-drenched new potatoes, or petites patates, instead of fries. At the cash register, don't miss the excellent blistered Portuguese custard tarts ($2 each).
But it was time for our actual lunch at Le Butterblume in Mile End (5836 boulevard St. Laurent, 514-903-9115). Everything here recalled Santa Monica beachside dining: the bright, airy space; beautiful, well-dressed diners; and plates blooming with vibrant green, yellow and orange ingredients. (The French-only printed menu was less reminiscent of California. We were directed to an English version online, and our server was happy to translate, as in a couple of other restaurants we encountered without bilingual menus.)
At Butterblume, I drank the best sip of my trip: freshly pressed carrot-mandarin juice ($10) spiked with ginger syrup and a bright splash of lemon. The meal felt equally sunny in flavor and spirit. A tartine of thick toast topped with lemon-dill yogurt, paper-thin radish, pickled fennel, sugar snap peas, cured salmon and a perfectly poached egg ($22) exemplified the ideal brunch.
Feta gnudi seared golden ($25) swam in a buttery, lemony sauce loaded with dill, ramps and peas so fresh they tasted like they'd just been picked. "You wanna roll in the sauce," Marie said. As we were leaving, we paused to admire a small plate of housemade fresh cheese strewn with herbs, fiddleheads and puffed kamut ($16) on its way to another table. On the list for next time.
No rest for the full. It was time for what the French call le goûter, or afternoon snacks. We first headed to Little Italy to the humble Boulangerie Marguerita (6505 rue Clark, 514-276-6126), where lines for the 113-year-old bakery's well-loved slab pizza reportedly wind around the block on Saturday mornings.
The pizza, also called pizza al taglio in Italian, did not honestly look like much, but one bite made me a convert. Served at room temperature and sold by the mini round (from $3.75, depending on variety) or quarter of a larger rectangular pie (from $5.50), it appears to be a uniquely Montréal evolution of a Roman classic. The basic tomato version featured a soft, doughy crust with a perfectly sweet, salty, tangy tomato sauce flavored with Romano and Parmesan cheeses, oregano, and garlic. It was the plainest piece of pizza I'd ever loved.
Continuing the Little Italy tour, we beelined to Caffè Italia (6840 boulevard St. Laurent, 514-495-0059,) for another exemplary classic. Under the watchful gaze of Sophia Loren on a vintage clock advertising Brio chinotto — "the soft drink of Italy" — we could truly hear the crunch of an airy, crusty ciabatta roll being pressed on top of provolone, salami, mortadella, capicola, prosciutto, soppressata, pickled giardiniera vegetables, lettuce and tomato. The off-menu misto ($9.75) hit all my meaty, vinegary, crunchy buttons. But, given what lay ahead, I had to relinquish it after a few bites.
Thankfully, our next stop at Pasticceria Alati-Caserta (277 rue Dante, 514-271-3013) offered mini filled cannoli in flavors from crème brûlée to amaretto ($2.50) among the shiny, glazed fruit tarts; torrone and biscotti; and colorful almond paste fruits. Marie offhandedly mentioned that the wall of a nearby church bears an early 1930s fresco depicting Benito Mussolini; sadly, we couldn't detour to take a peek.
There was barely time for one more bite before the dinner lineup. Marie deftly navigated to La Maison de Mademoiselle Dumpling (6381 rue Saint-Hubert, 438-800-6666) in the Rosemont-La Petite-Patrie neighborhood, where we saw two nimble-fingered women expertly rolling, stuffing and pleating dumplings through the window. A trio of diners were chopsticking up plump fried dumplings, but I went with the menu's cheapest — and smallest — item. Considering my day, a couple of the pleasingly slippery-skinned pork-and-shallot dumplings (eight for $7), in a chile-peanut sauce lightened with coconut milk, went down easily. They were also presented beautifully: speckled with black and white sesame seeds, fresh cilantro and scallion, and batons of crimson-tinted pickled ginger.
We happened to be just a couple of blocks from dinner reservation No. 1, which I had made online a few days earlier. The Thai street-food restaurant Pichai (5985 rue Saint-Hubert, 514-419-1606) had been highly recommended by several Burlington restaurant industry professionals and recently landed the 15th spot on Canada's 100 Best restaurants list. (See "Canada's Best" for the Montréal restaurant that topped the list.) Here, I would have loved to ask for recommended pairings from the well-regarded wine list of mostly white, skin-contact and rosé bottles, but I literally had too much on my plate.
I could not muster the team support to order the whole fried fish, as I had been advised to do. (Marie sat and watched Daria and me eat and helpfully noted later, "I didn't even have space to burp.") However, the four dishes I did order were superb.
We started with a special of bite-size fried crabs ($24) — imagine the best, crunchiest popcorn shrimp ever — accompanied by housemade sriracha sauce. A second special consisted of raw, shaved Canadian scallops ($23), slathered in a compellingly sweet-tangy chile sauce and scattered with crunchy fried shallots.
For our second round, I ordered a very meaty dish and a vegan one, to keep the world in balance. Both were among the best dishes of the trip. Pichai's tofu thoke ($17) starred fried cubes of savory, housemade chickpea tofu served over greens and seasoned with som tam sauce, which was tart with lime and tamarind, sweet with palm sugar and funky with vegan fish sauce.
The all-in meatiness of the restaurant's duck laab (also called larb; $25) was equally compelling. The ground duck meat included grilled duck hearts, which lent a rich, iron-y, earthy flavor that was complemented by lashings of lime and fish sauce and liberal amounts of lemongrass, cilantro stems, mint and dill. The mixture was sprinkled with toasted rice powder and served with cucumber wedges, leaves of endive and sweet cabbage, and a basket of sticky rice.
Of all the dishes I could not finish, this is the one about which I am still dreaming. And I'll return for that fish.
Our second dinner of the evening took us to a new-to-me neighborhood, the recently redeveloped Griffintown area. Véronique Dalle, general manager of the sophisticated, sleek and dark Foxy (1638 rue Notre-Dame Ouest, 514-925-7007), was just named top sommelier in the nation by Canada's 100 Best. She works closely with chef Catherine Couvet Desrosiers, who runs the open kitchen with a wood-fired grill at its heart. Because of Dalle's expertise (and the fact that it was the last meal of our day), I planned to imbibe.
We began with a trio of creative and beautifully executed cocktails. My favorite was the Sisu ($21), made with yuzu, Lillet blanc, aquavit, and kiwi and sumac bitters and topped with egg white froth. While we sipped, the kitchen sent out a satiny, featherlight chicken liver mousse with radishes ($10) and a roasted red pepper-topped white bean dip served with house crackers ($12). It reflects well on the dip that its showy appetizer companion didn't overshadow it.
From her carefully curated wine list, we asked Dalle to pour us a few pairings. We began with a glass ($16) of the 2020 Kapellchen Riesling Trocken from Knipser in Pfalz, Germany. The dry Riesling had plenty of acid backbone under notes of apricot and honeydew melon and was especially good with a dish of small Québécois shrimp that were sweet with apple and sharp with horseradish under a meticulous mosaic of cucumber ($24). Among this course of dishes, I also loved the radicchio salad ($18), dressed with garlic confit, anchovy, lemon and olive oil with sourdough croutons. It was the lemony, creamy, crunchy best kind of riff on a Caesar.
Dalle poured us a second white, the Domaine Augustin Adeodat Collioure Blanc 2021 ($110 per bottle), made with grenache gris in the Languedoc-Roussillon region of southern France. She explained that it had been aged in oak and offered "more texture and more volume" to balance the mix of foods we were eating. To follow, she brought a Sicilian red, the 2020 Susucaru Rosso from Frank Cornelissen ($15 per glass), which conjured the rounded fruitiness and refreshing acidity of a not-too-sweet berry sorbet.
At this point, we were well into our more substantial main courses, of which two stood out. Freshly made tortellini stuffed with house mortadella combined beautifully with fresh herbs, tender green peas and the crunch of toasted pistachios ($30). Perfectly cooked Arctic char (tank-farmed in Montréal!) danced with grilled radishes and clams in a white wine sauce and bore the unexpected garnish of delicate, lightly bitter leaves of stonecrop ($39).
It was 11 p.m. by the time we tried to squeeze in a few bites of a rich cream cheese, raisin and walnut-layered carrot cake for two ($15). This was paired with sips of an unusual oxidative wine that was a surprise taste of home: the Rancio sec B. Loup No. 1 ($33 for 2.5 ounces) from La garagista farm and winery in Barnard. Dalle acknowledged that the "very, very dry" wine with aromas of acetone was not necessarily easy to drink — though, she declared, "I love everything about it."
DAY 3, DESTINATIONS 13 TO 16
From a croissant in Hochelaga-Maisonneuve to South Indian street food in the Quartier des Spectacles
If this had been a different kind of trip, I would have rented a bike on Friday morning and taken the bike path to the up-and-coming Hochelaga-Maisonneuve neighborhood between the Olympic Stadium and the Saint Lawrence River to visit the recently opened Aube Boulangerie (4715 rue Sainte-Catherine Est).
The bakery has a Brooklyn vibe, with small children in strollers and young people tapping away on laptops against a whimsically stylish pastel mural on a large brick wall. It provided us much-needed large lattes ($5.50) and a textbook-perfect croissant filled with almond and pistachio cream and housemade raspberry jam ($4.50). I also picked up a sturdy pain de campagne ($7) to take home.
Following the advice of the server at our Anemone dinner (which felt like weeks ago at this point), we had brunch at L'Entre-Pots (1995 rue Masson, 514-507-2212) at the border of the Plateau and Rosemont neighborhoods. The snug breakfast and lunch place feels like a locals' spot. Tellingly, its French-only menu features cretons, a traditional French Canadian pork spread.
The trellised outdoor patio looks out at a row of classic Montréal houses with outdoor staircases. Citrus juices (from $5) are squeezed fresh every morning, and the food is homey with sophisticated details. My breakfast order was as close to poutine as I got this trip: the Béné Olé ($17), also known as poutine déjeuner, was rich with nuggets of bacon, cheese curds, cornichons, caramelized onions, roasted potatoes, spiced hollandaise and a poached egg. By the time we walked out, at 12:30, a line of customers was waiting.
From there, we headed back to Mile End to sample the food of another continent. At Barros Luco (5201 rue Saint-Urbain, 438-380-4070), I was underwhelmed by the eponymous grilled and pressed Chilean sandwich of steak, gooey processed cheese, avocado and tomato ($7.50). But I found the vegetarian empanada ($4.25) of slightly sweet dough stuffed with well-seasoned peppers, zucchini, mushrooms, tomato and carrots very good.
After bidding a rushed farewell to Marie, our superhero driver who had to return unexpectedly to work, we headed to our final meal of the trip, within walking distance of our hotel in the Quartier des Spectacles. I was surprised to find the recommended South Indian street-food restaurant Le Super Qualité (30 rue Sainte-Catherine Ouest, 438-226-6448) in a food court, a style of eating venue of which I'm generally not a fan.
A neon sign promising "Snack Bar Indien" directed us to the back of Le Central|Manger Montréal, which opened in 2019 with about two dozen food and drink vendors. Le Super Qualité there is a second, smaller location of a Petite-Patrie neighborhood restaurant founded in 2016.
At the counter, we ordered a masala dosa, a lacy-edged traditional crêpe made from a fermented batter of ground rice and dal, filled with curry-spiced potatoes and served with a pair of chutneys ($12). We also shared a plate of dahi batata puri ($9): small, crisp, spherical puffs of puri bread cracked at the top like soft-boiled eggs, stuffed with potatoes and chickpeas, dressed with yogurt and tamarind chutney, and sprinkled with crunchy chickpea noodles. Both dishes were very good and reasonably priced.
It occurred to me later, as I perused the roster of restaurants in Le Central, that the new style of higher-end food halls does have its appeal — especially when you're trying to please a mixed group of eaters. A single venue offers about 20 options, including Québec seafood or poutine, Japanese ramen, Spanish tapas, Portuguese rôtisserie chicken, Breton crêpes and Moroccan food. Several are outposts of restaurants elsewhere in the city.
For those who are not quite as food-obsessed as I am, halls such as Le Central|Manger Montréal offer an easier way to eat your way through Montréal — and the world — in a short time. But I wouldn't have traded the fun of my food treasure hunt across the city for anything.
The original print version of this article was headlined "Montréal on the Menu | Thirty years and 30 hours of eating through a global city"
About The Author
Melissa Pasanen
Bio:
Melissa Pasanen is a food writer for Seven Days. She is an award-winning cookbook author and journalist who has covered food and agriculture in Vermont for 20 years.
Melissa Pasanen is a food writer for Seven Days. She is an award-winning cookbook author and journalist who has covered food and agriculture in Vermont for 20 years.
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