NAT’S OPINION:
I was back in Montreal last weekend for my sister’s wedding, a blur of family, food, and celebration in the city that raised me. As fate would have it, the Michelin Guide dropped its first-ever list of starred restaurants in Quebec that same week.
For those of us shaped by this industry, it was supposed to be a milestone. But instead of pride, I felt deflated.
The stars themselves aren’t the issue. Mastard, Sabayon, Europea are all worthy, talented kitchens. Quebec City even claimed the province’s first two-star spot with La Tanière. But while some great restaurants got the nod, the guide felt completely out of touch with the Montreal dining experience. And as someone raised in the industry, in this city, I can’t pretend that it doesn’t matter.
Michelin has always carried a particular lens. Rooted in French tradition, born from a tire company’s desire to get people driving, its system still values a very specific image of excellence: tasting menus, hushed rooms, a clinical kind of consistency. It’s an aesthetic of fine dining that rarely makes room for the messy, electric, soulful spaces that define Montreal.
And that’s the problem.
Montreal doesn’t cook for prestige. It cooks for people. It cooks from memory, migration, rebellion, and reinvention. It’s natural wine in old church basements. Syrian stews beside French bistros pouring Lebanese reds. It’s a long-standing Jewish community that helped define this city’s food identity. It’s hospitality built around generosity not performance. Tiny spots that feel like second homes, not stages.
The best meals in this city aren’t always served on slate or priced like an anniversary. They’re shared. Sometimes loud. Always thoughtful. And yes, they deserve recognition. Not to stroke egos but because stars bring weight. They influence investment, tourism, and hiring. They shape perception. And when a guide as globally powerful as Michelin lands with this little context, it doesn’t just overlook Montreal’s soul. It rewrites what outsiders think that soul is.
So no, Montreal doesn’t need Michelin. But it deserves better from it.
The issue isn’t inclusion. It’s understanding. It’s knowing that consistency and creativity aren’t enemies. That excellence can come from improvisation, not rigidity. That restaurants, like the people who run them, evolve. Montreal’s best restaurants lean into that evolution. And when a system can’t account for that, it fails to reflect what modern hospitality really looks like.
Montreal’s food scene is a living, breathing expression of who we are and who we’ve always been. It’s generous. Subversive. Full of character. And yes, it should be celebrated on a global stage. But on its own terms.
Because while Michelin looks for fine dining, Montreal serves something better: a seat at the family table.
Montreal isn’t chasing stars. It’s setting the standard, whether the world’s watching or not.
