The Finalists

Hidden above the bustle of Somerset Street in Ottawa’s Little Italy, Antheia reveals itself slowly. Ring the discreet doorbell and climb upstairs to Briana Kim’s serene fermentation kitchen, where a glowing chef’s counter faces the open kitchen and jars and earthenware vessels hint at ingredients quietly transforming with time. Antheia is the restaurant Kim chose Ottawa for. The self-taught chef behind acclaimed Alice and winner of the 2023 Canadian Culinary Championship was invited by René Redzepi to lead Noma’s fermentation program in Copenhagen, but stayed to build something entirely her own: an intimate restaurant and research lab devoted to the possibilities of fermentation. The vegetarian tasting menu unfolds with rhythm and whimsy. Sesame tofu with seaweed mole is a standout; pine nut with palo santo and black apple ventures somewhere more unexpected. Global fermentation traditions and techniques shape the menu, while misos, garums, shoyus and preserves lend vegetables remarkable depth, while misos, garums, shoyus and preserves lend vegetables remarkable depth. The fermented juice pairing is as intriguing as the food: complex, stimulating and distinctly its own. A playful assortment of house-made sweet bites closes the meal. Antheia feels like discovering a delicious little secret above the city, where time itself becomes an ingredient and fermentation is not simply a technique, but the language of the experience.

Bad Bunny’s Baile Inolvidable, towering candles and a canopy of dried flowers above the bar set the rhythm at Antylia, a warm, spirited room on Bloor Street in Toronto’s Bloorcourt neighbourhood. Husband-and-wife chefs Aldo Camarena and Ashley McKay have travelled a winding road here, from their Mexican and Ecuadorian roots to some of Toronto’s best kitchens and their much-loved Xolo pop-up. Antylia is where those journeys meet. The menu moves freely across the Americas, weaving Latin American traditions through the ingredients and landscapes of Canada. Corn is nixtamalized in-house; Argentinian shrimp aguachile verde arrives with prickly ash salsa macha; charred cauliflower meets prairie mole and maple sunflower crumble; and King Cole duck, marinated in miso, comes with Guerrero-style mole rojo. The connections can be unexpected, but they feel personal, echoing Camarena and McKay’s own stories of migration, memory and finding home in Toronto. Then comes the Tacos de Gloria: maple milk caramel and puffed wild rice tucked into a flour tortilla with pine nuts and pecan-maple mousse. Playful, nostalgic and completely irresistible. At Antylia, borders blur but identities remain intact, a restaurant built from the flavours carried with you, the ingredients found when you arrive and the place you eventually call home.

On Harbord Street, among the Victorian houses and neighbourhood haunts of Harbord Village, Bar Eugenie draws you in with its cream exterior, camel-coloured doors and glimpses of turquoise within. Once home to the beloved Harbord Room, the long, narrow space glows under low lighting, buzzing with people without ever feeling crowded. Behind it are Alo Food Group alumni Rebekah Bruce, Ronnie Fishman and Lee Bonds, bringing serious restaurant pedigree to a neighbourhood bistro that wears it lightly. Bruce’s menu shares that same sense of restraint and good taste: concise, thoughtful and difficult to choose from, with subtle touches of her Filipino roots. Raw Hokkaido scallops come with coconut milk, Thai chile and cucumber; roasted bone marrow with a bright persillade and pickled turnips; and excellent sourdough with butter is reason enough to linger. B.C. black cod with spring onions and ’nduja is rich and beautifully balanced, followed by the kind of rhubarb crumble dreams are made of. The compact wine list is among the city’s best, including compelling bottles from Tenerife’s volcanic soils. Service is informed, elegant and perfectly timed. Everything is designed for sharing, with portions that feel restrained yet generous. From the lily-pad-green sink in the bathroom to the last spoonful of crumble, every detail feels considered. Polished but never precious, Bar Eugenie is a true gem of a neighbourhood bistro.

At the corner of Jean-Talon Est and De Lorimier, Bistrot Fortune slips almost unnoticed into Villeray. Inside, however, the room comes alive. Candles drip onto old wine bottles, a carefully chosen soundtrack hums beneath the conversation, and the glow from the Latin American shops across the street reminds you that this restaurant belongs exactly where it is. Partners Andrew Choi and Carlos Ortiz, who first cooked together at Red Tiger, draw on their Vietnamese and Salvadoran roots without ever reducing the menu to a catalogue of influences. Southeast Asian flavours meet subtle Latin American accents with remarkable ease, resulting in a cuisine that feels entirely its own, and unmistakably Montréal. The menu is concise and deliberate, encouraging the table to share generously. Hamachi crudo brightened with aji verde is fresh and precise. A whole fish arrives crisp and deeply savoury, built for passing around the table. The crispy pork salad has already earned a devoted following, while eggplant with silky tofu balances acidity, spice and richness with remarkable restraint, reflecting the kitchen’s understated precision and quiet confidence. The wine list follows the same philosophy: just long enough, natural-leaning and refreshingly approachable, with every bottle priced under $100. There is no excess here, only thoughtful cooking, genuine hospitality and a restaurant that feels inseparable from the neighbourhood around it.

Despite its gritty surface, downtown St. Catharines feels like the unlikely heart of Canadian cooking right now. Across Niagara, an extraordinary abundance of vegetables, freshwater fish and meat is matched by some of the country’s most exciting wine, cider and spirits projects. Restaurant Capelin gathers that energy into one bright, 12-seat room. Restaurant Capelin is the shared vision of husband-and-wife owners Kat and Alex Seaborn, who came to Niagara from the East Coast with experience in the PEI and Toronto dining scenes and a love for fresh fish and seafood. Everyone sits at the counter, watching Alex cook while Kat moves through the room, both chatting with guests as the evening begins to feel more like an extraordinary dinner party than a conventional restaurant. Their vision of Niagara unfolds across the menu. Sustainably caught freshwater fish comes from Lake Ontario; herbs and vegetables from the garden at nearby Restaurant Pearl Morissette; and local wines and cider make their way across the counter. A delicate chawanmushi with fresh purple peas and ground local hazelnuts somehow changes my idea of what a hazelnut could taste like. Pristine lake trout and whitefish reveal just how compelling fish can be when treated with this much care. Outside, downtown St. Catharines carries on in all its chaos. Inside, that world falls away: beautiful wine is poured, conversation moves around the counter and two people share something they deeply believe in. Restaurant Capelin captures what makes Canadian cooking exciting right now: extraordinary ingredients from close to home, serious talent without pretension and, above all, something deeply human.

Just under half an hour outside Québec City, the basilica of Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré glows above a very small town that hardly seems the obvious place for one of the most exciting meals of the trip. And then there is Coquette. The second restaurant from the team behind Michelin-starred Kebec Club Privé, Coquette takes the precision of its more ambitious sibling and loosens things up. Coquette is meant to be the neighbourhood spot: small plates, market ingredients and a kitchen that puts exceptional local products firmly in the spotlight. A plateau de mer captures it beautifully: pristine oysters, tiny delicate clams and ceviche, alongside crisp croquettes filled with cod. Fresh seafood is treated with restraint, allowing quality and freshness to do most of the talking. Each plate feels precise and intentional, but never overly worked. There is something distinctly Québécois about the cooking: deeply connected to what is available nearby, confident in its simplicity and, above all, fun. The room has its own charm, with a slightly 1920s feel and a bar that quickly becomes part of the energy of the evening. Cocktails are excellent, while an intriguing wine list gives plenty of reason to linger over another glass. But what gives Coquette much of its personality is the service. Passionate, friendly and completely confident, the team reads the table instinctively: knowing when to explain something, when to suggest another plate and when to simply let the evening unfold. There is a visible sense of pride in the room, from the kitchen to the floor, and it is infectious. Coquette feels like a small miracle of place: serious cooking without stiffness, exceptional hospitality without ceremony, and a restaurant completely at ease in Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré.

In Old Montréal, Hana Korean Steakhouse fits right into the neighbourhood’s particular sense of occasion. The room is dark, beautiful and decidedly luxurious, with a polished crowd settling into deep banquettes and, at the centre of each table, a glowing grill bringing the convivial ritual of Korean barbecue into an elegant steakhouse setting. Behind Hana is a formidable Montréal restaurant team: Hanhak Kim, whose Otto restaurants have long been part of the city’s dining scene, and Joe Beef co-founder David McMillan, with chef Wongoo Jeon bringing experience from 9 Tail Fox and acclaimed Seoul restaurant Mingles. Under Jeon, dinner quickly takes over the table. Iced oysters and shrimp cocktail start things off on a classic steakhouse note before an assortment of banchan begins to shift the meal toward Korea. Then comes the butcher’s cut: beautifully marbled Prime+ beef brought to the table and cooked over the open grill by chefs and servers. As the meat caramelizes over the heat, smoke and rendered fat mingle with the acidity, spice and freshness of the banchan, while sake keeps pace with the richness. The striking design and attentive tableside service bring a certain ceremony to the evening. But for all the polish, the best moments come when the table is at its most crowded: little plates scattered everywhere, sake being poured and another beautifully marbled cut caramelizing over the glowing grill. Hana takes the communal pleasure of Korean barbecue and recasts it for the particular glamour of Old Montréal. Flavourful, generous and indulgent, it is a restaurant made for ordering widely, passing plates around and letting dinner unfold over the flames.

Jean-Talon Market has never lacked remarkable ingredients, but it has long been missing a restaurant worth lingering over. Paul Toussaint’s 3 Pierres 1 Feu changes that. Just inside the market’s main entrance, the Haitian restaurant announces itself with Caribbean music, vibrant colours and charcoal smoke drifting from the open kitchen. The room is lively yet relaxed, extending the market’s energy long after shoppers have filled their baskets. Open for lunch and dinner, the menu is built for sharing. Charcoal-grilled meats arrive deeply caramelized and kissed with smoke, confidently seasoned with just enough heat. Bright, vibrant sides bring balance to each plate, while even the desserts reflect the same care and precision as the savoury dishes. The cooking is joyful and beautifully executed. Ice-cold bottles of beer and tropical cocktails pair naturally with the kitchen’s bold flavours. Warm hospitality and a handful of large communal tables reinforce the restaurant’s convivial spirit. 3 Pierres, 1 Feu transforms a visit centred on shopping into one centred on the table, adding a new rhythm to one of Montréal’s most beloved culinary destinations.

Deep in the interior of British Columbia, where the Selkirks rise around a town shaped by powder days and the people who came for ski season and never quite left, downtown Revelstoke has a jewel in Alfred’s. The cozy, family-style Italian restaurant feels tailor-made for this mountain town. The bustling room radiates the warmth of a neighbourhood favourite, where locals greet one another across tables and everyone seems to know everyone. Australians Lauren Webster and John Pierce came for the mountains and found a home, building a life, a young family and, eventually, Alfred’s. Alongside them is wildly talented executive chef and co-owner Ivan Blackwell, an unmistakably cool presence behind the pass with a cooking style every bit his own. Together, they’ve created a seriously accomplished restaurant without losing an ounce of Revelstoke soul. The menu draws on fresh, local ingredients where possible, with small plates made for sharing: signature cheese buns with brown butter and honey; melt-in-your-mouth mortadella with elderflower melon and pecorino; and tender pork meatballs with goat cheese and the most perfect red sauce. Fresh pastas are a highlight, from the gnocchi Alfred’s has become known for to bucatini puttanesca tangled with anchovies and creamy stracciatella. A lightly chilled young Nebbiolo from Langhe feels fresh and festive alongside it all. Service is warm and genuinely small-town. There’s a celebratory energy to Alfred’s, as though the entire room understands just how special it is to be surrounded by these mountains. Cozy, generous and grounded in its community, Alfred’s feels like Revelstoke gathered around the table, and delicious proof that some of the country’s most exciting cooking can emerge far beyond the big city.

On an industrial stretch of East Vancouver, beyond the more chaotic blocks of East Hastings, Angela Pastificio sits in an unlikely little pocket of restaurants. Within a few doors are Nero Tondo and Niwa, part of a cluster of intimate dining rooms that has quietly turned this gritty corner of the city into a culinary destination. Step inside Angela and the outside world quickly falls away. Named in tribute to chef-owner Calvin Vogstad’s Italian grandmother and the warmth of meals shared around her table, the proposition is singular and wonderfully simple: an entire evening devoted to fresh pasta. The eight-course tasting menu moves from antipasti through five handmade pastas before finishing with dolce. From nearly every angle of the restaurant, you can watch sheets of dough being rolled, filled, folded and stamped just across the counter. Gnocco fritto with mortadella gets things started with one of the most memorable bites of the summer: the mortadella draped over the hot, pillowy dough, warming until it nearly melts like lardo. Then the pastas begin to arrive. Trofie twist into tight spirals with a summery, herb-filled pesto; rustic pici comes tangled in a perfect tomato sauce; and an intricately stamped stuffed raviolo brings a more delicate turn. Everything tastes exceptionally fresh and deeply satisfying, yet never overwhelming. There is remarkable consistency from one plate to the next, but also the wonderful anticipation of wondering what shape of pasta will come next. House-made gelato and cannoli bring the evening to a classic close. There is something joyful about a restaurant committing itself so completely to one thing and doing it this well. Nothing feels extraneous or overly cerebral; this is pasta made with extraordinary care and served with generosity. Angela Pastificio edges remarkably close to perfection — an experience that sends you back out onto the streets of East Van already wondering when you can do it all over again.

On a quiet side street in Collingwood, LORE announces itself almost in a whisper: a ribbon of bronze wrapping around the corner of the building, its name glowing softly as you approach. Inside, Scandinavian restraint meets cottage-country warmth, setting the tone for a restaurant where every detail has its place. For executive chef Jeremy Austin, LORE is something of a homecoming. After the success of The Pine in nearby Creemore, Austin and his wife Cassie have returned to Collingwood, where their restaurant story first began, with a project that feels freer and more whimsical. Here, Austin turns his attention toward Canada: its coasts and waterways, its familiar seasonal flavours and clear culinary memories. That spirit runs through a tasting menu that moves between delicacy and richness, with a playful hand in the presentation. Frog’s legs arrive with crisp skin, glazed and unapologetically finger-licking, while tuna tartare is half-hidden beneath a house-made craquelin dusted with paprika. A wreath-like beignet topped with Nordic shrimp continues the pattern: familiar ideas, sharpened by texture, contrast and a sense of fun. The drinks are just as distinctive. A standout non-alcoholic Pink Lady layers fermented apple with smoky black cardamom and fragrant lemon balm, while a rare, salty Basque wine is a natural match for Austin’s cooking. What makes LORE memorable is how complete it feels. The room, service, food and drinks all speak the same language: polished but relaxed, deeply considered but never precious. It is serious cooking with its shoulders (halfway) down.

With just 16 seats and reservations that disappear almost as soon as they are released, Lumache is small by design. The intimate Victoria restaurant is the realization of a long-held dream for chef James Frost and sommelier Heather Dosman, who have created a dining room that feels unmistakably Italian in spirit. The best seats are at the bar, overlooking a kitchen barely larger than the counter itself, where Frost cooks an entirely chef-driven tasting menu just a few feet away. A Campari spritz is a fitting place to begin before the menu is left entirely in Frost’s hands. Scapece with fresh mint is bright and sharply appetizing, while sweet seasonal peas with boquerones find that particularly Italian sweet spot between simplicity and intensity. A stuffed raviolo reveals house-made ricotta and a rich egg yolk at its centre, technically precise but fundamentally generous. The cooking moves easily between delicacy and richness, guided by the season rather than by a need to reinvent the classics. Tiramisu brings the meal back to familiar territory and is exactly the sort of ending you hope for. Dosman’s wine selections are an essential part of the experience, chosen with the same sense of restraint and curiosity as the food. The proximity of the kitchen and the ease with which wine, food and conversation move across the counter give the room the conviviality of a particularly good dinner party. An amaro at the end only reinforces the feeling. There is something refreshingly uncompromising about Lumache: one tasting menu, a tiny kitchen and a restaurant entrusted almost entirely to the instincts of the two people behind it. Deeply Italian in spirit and intensely personal, Lumache is the kind of restaurant worth planning a trip to Victoria around.

Down by the river in Val-David, where the pace slows and the Laurentians begin to take over, MacTaverne is very much a family affair. Brothers Mike and Tim Robertson are at the heart of this passion project, with Mike in the kitchen and Tim behind the bar, bringing their extensive restaurant experience and natural hospitality north from Montréal. Warm smiles, mellow vibes and precise, ingredient-driven cooking make MacTaverne feel as though it has always belonged in this small mountain town. The menu is simple, but every plate brings big flavour: Scotch eggs wrapped in sausage and crisp panko; juicy chicken wings with a mouth-watering salsa; and Québec côte de boeuf made for sharing with a generous house salad. Mike’s cooking is unfussy and confident, the kind that lets good ingredients speak for themselves. The sticky toffee pudding is impossible to resist. Local beers, creative cocktails and a classic wine list with a few unexpected terroirs round things out. On weekends, doors stay open from lunch through the evening; when the weather cooperates, afternoons have a way of disappearing on the riverside terrasse. And with seven rooms in the little auberge upstairs, there’s little reason to rush home. Relaxed, generous and full of charm, MacTaverne moves at Val-David’s own unhurried rhythm. Come hungry, settle in and let the afternoon turn into evening.

Partners in business and in life, Zachary Kolomeir and Carmelina Imola have given Toronto another address to fall in love with. After Dreyfus and Taverne Bernhardt’s, the Montréal-born couple turns to Carmelina’s Italian roots and Zach’s Jewish heritage at N.L. Ginzburg, their lively College Street trattoria named for married Italian writers and anti-fascist activists Natalia and Leone Ginzburg. Alongside partner and general manager Tristan Eves, they've created a bustling bar up front and kitchen in the back, with the easy warmth of their other restaurants and more than a little Montréal in its bones. The cooking is Italian at heart, with Jewish diasporic threads woven throughout. The menu is built for sharing, from tuna crudo and salume cotto to house-made focaccia, pasta and beautifully cooked lamb chops. A dynamic, natural-leaning wine list wanders through southern France and Catalunya and suits the food perfectly. Dessert brings the story back to Montréal, offering a pretty nod to Joe Beef, where Zach cut his teeth in the kitchen, while the strawberry tart is one of the best bites of the night. Personal, convivial and delicious, N.L. Ginzburg is distinctly Toronto, with a little Montréal in its DNA.

There is a little corner of paradise at Main and 32nd, behind steamed-up windows, serving some of Vancouver’s best gomtang. Here, where the storefronts of Main Street begin to give way to the quieter residential blocks of Riley Park, Nui feels like a place you stumble upon and immediately want to keep to yourself. Inside, a compact open kitchen hums along one wall while closely set wooden tables line the other, giving the simple, industrial room an airy intimacy. Its name, drawn from an old Korean word associated with mothers and older sisters, feels fitting for a restaurant where comfort seems to arrive almost instinctively. That warmth runs through the cooking. Chefs JJ Hwang and Kyle McIntosh bring a thoughtful, contemporary lens to Korean comfort food, layering fermentation, smoke, spice and acidity with a remarkably light touch. The aromatic pork-bone gomtang is the star, its milky broth deeply comforting and served with chive oil, chile-shrimp paste and house-made kimchi to season as you go, each spoonful becoming a little more your own. But the small plates that precede it are showstoppers in their own right. Silken tofu egg jjim is made luxurious with fresh Hokkaido uni, while a whole vinegared mackerel, cured in-house and served with ginger, green onion and seaweed, is bright and beautifully balanced. There is refinement in the cooking, but never at the expense of the generosity and comfort at its core. Creative cocktails and short, playful soju and sake lists keep the mood casual as dinner stretches on, the tables fill and the windows fog a little further against the Vancouver evening. Nui is the kind of place that feels both effortless and incredibly intentional: warm, intimate and soul-filling. It is serious cooking hiding in plain sight.

On Queen East, as The Beaches enclave of Toronto shifts into evening mode, OLDESEOUL TAVERN glows red and orange behind darkened windows. Inside, checkerboard floors, exposed brick and a bustling bar land somewhere between a neighbourhood tavern, an old-school diner and a Korean sool-jib. It is dark, lively and immediately easy to settle into. The menu seems designed for that particular moment in the evening when drinks are flowing and everyone suddenly wants something good to eat. Korean flavours weave their way through familiar tavern favourites, with portions made for passing around the table. A jumbo shrimp cocktail comes with a gochujang cocktail sauce; devilled eggs are topped with crispy chicken skin and nanban; and chicken wings arrive slicked in kanpungi sauce. A generous platter of pork ribs with fermented kimchi and long hots feels particularly right for the room. It is playful food without much ceremony, familiar enough to be comforting but with enough unexpected turns to keep things interesting. Salt-rimmed margaritas and pristine martinis keep pace as the night picks up, alongside creative cocktails, soju and sake. The brief wine list leans natural, keeping things equally loose and uncomplicated. With its strong drinks, generous food and late-night energy, OLDESEOUL TAVERN has all the makings of a post-service haunt for the city’s cooks and restaurant crowd. It understands the pleasure of a great neighbourhood bar with food that goes well beyond an afterthought. Generous, convivial and a little nostalgic, OLDESEOUL TAVERN comes into its own as the night wears on. Dinner gives way to drinks, another plate hits the table and nobody is quite ready to go home.

In Calgary’s Marda Loop, Penny Crown feels as though it has been there much longer than it has. Slightly subterranean, with low ceilings, exposed brick, polished brass and a sweeping bar, the dark, moody room channels the New York taverns that inspired it while already feeling very much like a neighbourhood place. A seat at the bar is particularly good, with warm, friendly service and a cocktail close at hand. Penny Crown comes from Tony Migliarese​, the face of DOPO, Bar Rocca and the beloved former D.O.P. The menu at Penny Crown embraces the particular kind of indulgence and casualness that only a truly good tavern allows. Mousse de foie is silky and rich, garlic shrimp arrive begging for bread, and bone marrow is exactly as decadent as it should be. The burger comes tucked into a house-made bun enriched with duck fat, layered with caramelized onions and a house-made take on American cheese. Cocktails feel particularly at home here, especially a properly chilled martini. As the room fills, Penny Crown begins to feel less like a new opening than the sort of place that has always occupied this corner: neighbours sliding onto bar stools, tables settling in and another round appearing. Save room for the sticky toffee pudding. Warm, deeply caramelized and collapsing into melting ice cream, it is a dream of a dessert and exactly how a meal like this should end. Penny Crown isn’t trying to reinvent the tavern. Its pleasure comes from understanding why we love them in the first place: a dark room, a good bar, rich food and nowhere you particularly need to be next. And, of course, a very good burger.

Tucked away on the quiet streets of Vancouver’s Mount Pleasant, Kavita traces its story back to somewhere between the relentless energy of Mumbai, where chef-owner Tushar Tondvalkar grew up, and the seaside town of Malvan. His cooking draws on both: the street food of the city, the diverse regional cuisines of India and techniques learned cooking over charcoal alongside the matriarchs of his family. Kavita means “poetry,” an apt name for a restaurant built around the connection between food and memory. Here, those memories are translated through the exceptional local produce, seafood and meats of British Columbia, alongside fresh herbs the team grows in the restaurant’s rooftop garden. The cooking is precise and remarkably balanced. A bright tomato salad lets the quality of the produce lead, while eggplant is deeply savoury yet delicate. Garlic naan is pillowy and light. Jumbo prawn recheado looks toward India’s western coast, delivering richness, spice and acidity in equal measure, while Szechuan pork belly with shishitos shows a kitchen comfortable stretching beyond expected boundaries. Paneer saag, made with house-made paneer from Tesfa Farms buffalo milk and locally foraged stinging nettles in place of more traditional spinach, captures Kavita particularly well: familiar flavours expressed through ingredients found close to home. Plates arrive bright and colourful, carefully composed without feeling precious. A thoughtful wine list ventures into distinctive terroirs, including the volcanic soils of the Canary Islands, with bottles chosen to work beautifully alongside the layered flavours of the food. The room is modern and understated, with an open kitchen at its centre, but it is the staff who give Kavita much of its warmth: knowledgeable, generous and visibly proud of what they are serving. Kavita is rooted in tradition without being confined by it, a deeply personal expression of Mumbai, Malvan and memory, anchored confidently in Vancouver, where Tondvalkar now calls home.

In downtown St. Catharines, not far from his celebrated Fat Rabbit, chef Zach Smith has turned his attention from land to sea. At Bar Les Incompetents, seafood is personal: the B.C.-raised chef grew up pulling crabs from the ocean with his father, with whole salmon, spot prawns and Dungeness crab marking family celebrations. Now, after a career that has taken him from Vancouver to Bar Raval in Toronto and Niagara, those memories surface in a playful, self-described “French(ish)” bar with plenty of swagger. Take a seat at the kitchen bar, where gleaming seafood rests on ice and the brigade works just beyond. There’s a southern French accent to the menu: jambon-beurre layered generously with butter and served with craquelins and cornichons; a puttanesca tartine crowned with a pristine anchovy; and seafood piled high on a platter made for the table. Punchy flavours, bright acidity and layers of texture reveal the same confident hand that defines Fat Rabbit, only here with salt in the air. French and Canadian wines, local beers and whimsical cocktails keep the room lively. Outside is the unsettled and hard-edged pulse of downtown St. Catharines; inside, the mood softens into something warm, and remarkably serene. The name comes from Home Alone, after all. Les Incompétents may not take itself too seriously, but the cooking certainly does.

Marvin Palomo has spent much of his career cooking between worlds. At Liliana, his intimate restaurant on Toronto’s ever-evolving Queen West, those worlds come together in a way that feels distinctly of the city around it. The restaurant is named for the late mentor who shaped Palomo’s approach to cooking and hospitality during a postgraduate stint in Piedmont, but the food tells a much broader story: his Filipino heritage, years spent cooking in Hong Kong and a career forged in Toronto kitchens. Palomo gives the menu the familiar architecture of an Italian meal: antipasti, primi, secondi, contorni and dolci. He then allows his own culinary journey to pull it in unexpected directions. Beef carpaccio gets a savoury jolt from furikake and chili aioli, while aglio e olio trades some of its traditional restraint for chili crisp and creamy Puglian burrata. Trofie tangled with slow-cooked oxtail ragù bring things back toward the familiar. The crosscurrents are clearest in the octopus, inspired by a dim sum technique: gently steamed, then flashed in hot oil until crisp at the edges and tender within, with tamari and togarashi deepening its savoury pull. Even broccoli, bright with ginger and scallion, refuses to be an afterthought. Millefoglie closes the loop: delicate, shattering layers against black sesame and miso caramel. What makes Liliana compelling isn’t the novelty of combining culinary traditions, but how naturally Palomo moves between them. This is cooking built from experience: all the places that shaped him finding their way naturally onto the same plate.

Located in the heart of downtown Edmonton, Rita Trattoria may be new, but there is something immediately familiar about it. The warm, softly lit room occupies the former Uccellino space on Jasper Avenue, the latest chapter in chef and restaurateur Daniel Costa’s celebrated restaurant family. Alongside Bar Bricco, Bar Henry, Olia, Mimi and the former Corso 32, his restaurants have helped shape Italian dining in Canada’s Festival City for more than a decade. Bustling yet intimate, with white tablecloths and walls layered with paintings, sketches and objects collected in Italy, Rita feels polished without losing the easy energy of a trattoria. Named for Costa’s grandmother, Rita carries a sense of family and familiarity into a thoroughly contemporary trattoria. Alongside chef Micah Joffe, Costa has built a seasonal menu that moves between Italian classics and their own interpretations, and reads like a list of everything you want to eat. Start with focaccia, olives and anchovies before moving into the pastas: lumache, then vongole tangled with clams. Lamb chops arrive for the table, followed by sorbetto or a slice of torta di pinoli. The cooking is confident, the ingredients shine, the flavours are generous and much of the pleasure lies in the simplicity of it all. The wine list stays entirely in Italy and follows the same easy trattoria spirit, served by the glass or in different formats meant to carry you through dinner. A mineral Fiano followed by a fresh, lightly structured Frappato feels particularly at home as plates accumulate and the room gets louder. There is a sense of history to Rita, both real and imagined. The familiar bones of Uccellino remain, while an old schoolroom map of Italy, paintings and found objects give the room the feeling of having evolved over time. For all that is new, Rita feels less like a reinvention than another chapter in a story Edmonton already knows well: the timeless pleasures of good pasta, good wine, a crowded table and plenty of reasons to stay a little longer.

In downtown Toronto, SAMMARCO makes a grand entrance. Chef Rob Rossi and restaurateur David Minicucci are no strangers to Air Canada’s Best New Restaurants: Giulietta and Osteria Giulia were recognized by the program in 2018 and 2022, respectively, before going on to earn international acclaim. At SAMMARCO, their latest act together, they step outside their familiar playbook to reimagine the Italian steakhouse, trading the genre’s expected greatest hits for exceptional ingredients, old-school grandeur and an almost obsessive level of hospitality. Some evenings, there’s even a butler at the door. The cooking rises to the occasion. Thinly sliced bluefin tuna layered over foie gras torchon is an audacious pairing, rich and delicate in equal measure, and the kind of dish you find yourself thinking about long after dinner. Fettuccine “Cento Uova” arrives glossed in an abundance of St. Brigid’s butter, while deeply flavourful Canadian beef, dry-aged in-house, takes its rightful place at the centre of the table. There is generosity to Rossi’s cooking, but also precision. Nothing about SAMMARCO is particularly restrained, and that is very much the point. Tableside service brings a little ceremony to the evening, while a formidable wine list and impeccable, high-touch hospitality make settling in feel inevitable. Even the smallest details, from the weight of the cutlery to the glassware, have been considered. SAMMARCO is unabashedly luxurious and indulgent, but beneath all the polish and grandeur is seriously accomplished cooking. This is the steakhouse concept turned all the way up.

On Yonge Street in the polished, village-like enclave of Summerhill, Seahorse packs the easy energy of a local bar into a compact room, with just enough elegance to turn a quick drink and oysters into dinner. The restaurant began, fittingly, over coffee. Richard Renaud met veteran restaurateur Simon Bower during early morning pandemic walks, when an idea for a café by day and oyster bar by night slowly grew into something more ambitious. Eamon Clark joined the partnership, with Beverly Galapia heading up the kitchen, and Seahorse became a full-fledged seafood restaurant built around oysters, cocktails and old-fashioned hospitality. The menu stays close to the water, beginning almost like a trip to the seafood counter. Oysters are shucked at the bar, while the Seahorse Ice Box lands as a compact seafood platter piled over ice. Prawn ceviche follows, then gamberi spaghettini, before the namesake Seahorse salad brings things back to something fresh and crisp. The cocktail program is equally playful. A brown-butter margarita stops you mid-conversation: rich, creamy and savoury, without losing the brightness and bite of a great margarita. A non-alcoholic sour, finished with a briny olive, is every bit as considered. Service might be Seahorse’s secret weapon: sharp, relaxed and genuinely funny, with the kind of timing that makes a night out feel effortless. Seahorse doesn’t take itself too seriously, but it takes the quality of its food, and your good time, very seriously.

On the outskirts of downtown Winnipeg, beside a railway line, Snack Haüs hardly announces itself as one of the most exciting places to eat in the city, or maybe even the country. A train rumbles past as the apéro crowd gets underway, close enough to briefly drown out conversation at the picnic tables outside. There is a brewery and winery attached, you order at the bar, and as the evening goes on, neighbours begin to arrive and settle in. Everything about the place feels wonderfully casual. And then the food arrives. Salami and potato chips are exactly that: a tower of goodness, completely irresistible. Shishito peppers are torched until blistered and smoky, while “pickle pickle pickle” leans gleefully into saltiness, acidity and crunch. A mushroom and shrimp pintxo with truffle aioli packs an extraordinary amount of flavour into a few bites, and a bluefin tuna tostada with saffron aioli disappears almost as quickly as it lands on the table. Then there is the beer-can chicken, its skin impossibly crisp, the meat juicy and deeply flavourful. It’s to die for. The combinations are clever, creative and totally unexpected in such a casual setting, but oh so welcome. This is food driven by pure appetite, designed first and foremost to make you want to eat it, and you know it from the first glimpse of the menu. That same irreverence runs through the whole experience. A house-made sparkling rosé made with Ontario fruit feels entirely right alongside the food, carried outside to the picnic tables as another train rolls past. There is no elaborate service ritual and little separating the restaurant from the neighbourhood around it. Later in the evening, the tables have filled with people who seem to know exactly what they have in their backyard. There is a brilliant mind at work in the kitchen at Snack Haüs. Chef Dustin Pajak, formerly of Winnipeg’s acclaimed Close Company, returned home after several years cooking in some of Toronto’s top kitchens to open this decidedly more casual solo venture. But the real accomplishment is how little the restaurant needs you to notice. Here you order at the bar, drink wine beside the railway tracks and eat salami with potato chips. Snack Haüs is pure delight, and reason enough to make your way to Winnipeg.

Follow Macleod Trail south, past the increasingly suburban stretches of Calgary, and an unassuming commercial plaza holds a rather extraordinary secret. Upstairs from the casual Japanese restaurant Ryuko, Sushi Jun is an intimate omakase counter where the city outside quickly disappears. At its centre is chef Jun Young Park, working within arm’s reach of every guest. From the first piece, it becomes clear that almost nothing here is accidental. Rice arrives beautifully cooked and at exactly the right temperature, warm against exceptionally fresh fish flown in largely from Japan and Spain. Shima aji is clean and pristine; sweet ebi paired with creamy, briny uni makes for an indulgent mouthful; and beautifully marbled chutoro almost dissolves against the warm rice. Watching Park work is part of the pleasure, from the precision of his knife to the quiet confidence with which each piece is placed before you. What makes the omakase truly exceptional, though, is its rhythm. Rather than following an expected progression, Park uses palate cleansers, shifts in temperature and unexpected transitions to continually reset both palate and expectations. There is tremendous technique behind it all, but also imagination. Even tiramisu somehow makes sense by the time it arrives. A sake tasting follows the progression beautifully, while service remains personal and remarkably kind. Sushi Jun is precise without rigidity, matching exceptional ingredients and serious technique with creativity and warmth. Finding an omakase this accomplished hiding above a casual sushi restaurant on the edge of Calgary makes it all the more remarkable.

At Touk, chef Chanthy Yen turns toward his Cambodian-Canadian roots, drawing on the flavours and traditions he first encountered cooking alongside his grandmother. His career has since taken him through some of the world’s most ambitious kitchens, into the Prime Minister’s residence as Justin Trudeau’s personal chef and, most recently, to a win on Top Chef Canada. But Touk feels like a return to something more personal: Cambodian cooking expressed through the exceptional seafood, produce and meats of British Columbia. The restaurant, just off Robson Street in the heart of downtown Vancouver, takes its name from Bon Om Touk, Cambodia’s annual Water Festival, a celebration of the rivers and waters that bring abundance to the country’s fields and tables. Alongside co-owner Terrence Feng, behind Vancouver favourites Kin Kao and Song, Yen finds a natural connection to the bounty of another coast, with an attention to local ingredients that never feels like it needs to announce itself. Pain au lait with Espelette butter brings a little of Yen’s Montréal years to the table before the menu turns toward the Pacific. Oysters arrive simply, topped with a paper-thin slice of cucumber; tartare is scooped onto crisp taro chips; and scallops sourced from the cold waters of northern British Columbia are allowed to remain very much themselves. A beautifully cooked tomahawk pork chop, served with a Cambodian-style mole, brings richness and depth. Plates move across the table in combinations that make each other better, with an exceptional balance of flavour and texture and a flow to the meal that feels instinctive despite the precision behind it. By the time chocolate mousse arrives, the pleasure has been remarkably consistent from beginning to end. Yen makes his way through the dining room during service, stopping at tables to share a little of the story behind Touk. For all the technique and ambition behind the restaurant, its most compelling idea is also its simplest: the flavours of Yen’s Cambodian heritage meeting the ingredients of the coast he now cooks on. At Touk, two places separated by an ocean find a common language at the table.

On lively Plaza Saint-Hubert, Yakitori Hibahihi is the kind of place that pulls you in with the glow of the room and keeps you there for another round of skewers. Behind it are three familiar names in Montréal’s Japanese dining scene: chef Hiroshi Kitano, of the Plateau gem, Kitano Shokudu, longtime friend Hideyuki Imaizumi of Fleurs et Cadeaux and Marusan, and Mael Boubonnais, formerly of Casavant. At Hibahihi, their focus is squarely on the grill. Chicken thigh and heart, pork belly and vegetables meet the intense heat of binchōtan charcoal, finished simply with kombu salt, house-made tare or shichimi togarashi. Start with sashimi before settling into the rhythm of skewers arriving hot from the coals, with sake, shochu, natural wines and cocktails keeping pace. Claim a seat at the counter for a front-row view of the action. Warm wood, deep-red accents and low light set an intimate mood, while hip-hop and reggae loosen the edges. It’s smoky, spirited and precise without being precious, a Japanese grill that feels distinctly at home on the Plaza.

Take a seat at the bar at Zia’s Place and you enter a world of amaro, with one of the country’s best selections of Italy’s bitter digestif glowing along the back wall. Outside, Dundas West rolls through Brockton Village; inside, the mood is that of a familiar neighbourhood haunt, rooted in friendship and family. Chef Jess Maiorano of Pasta Forever opened Zia’s with longtime friends Madeleine Hayles and Edward Anderson of Happy Coffee and Wine, drawing on the generous southern Italian tables of her childhood. The name itself is personal: “zia” means aunt in Italian, chosen in honour of Maiorano’s aunt Vicky and the family spirit that runs through the restaurant. The menu looks south, with antipasti built around seasonal vegetables, fish and cheese. House-pickled giardiniera wakes up the palate; asparagus with lemony tonnato and toasted almonds is bright and savoury; and fresh farfalle alle vongole is a highlight. Throughout, the cooking is flavourful and alive with acidity, bringing a little Mediterranean sunshine to this corner of Toronto. A concise, natural-leaning wine list complements the food, but as dinner gives way to another glass and conversation stretches into the evening, attention inevitably returns to that back wall. At Zia’s, dessert comes bitter, botanical and poured by the glass.

In Toronto’s Little Italy, Radici Project is a love story in more ways than one. Husband-and-wife team chef Emiliano Del Frate and sake sommelier Kayo Ito bring their Italian and Japanese roots together in the city they chose to call home, after careers that took them through kitchens and dining rooms from Noma and Don Alfonso to Nobu and Park Hyatt. Radici, Italian for “roots,” feels particularly fitting here: a deeply personal restaurant where two distinct culinary identities meet without ever dissolving into fusion. Delicate stemware suits the elegance of the room, while a Jenga block playfully tucked beneath the silverware hints at a less serious side. The tasting menu allows the relationship between the two cuisines to unfold slowly: karaage gives way to mushrooms with sorrel and latticello, while halibut with maitake and peperone crusco brings Japanese and Italian flavours together beautifully. Cocktails are precise and perfectly balanced, while Ito’s sake pairings are a highlight, drawing on rare, carefully sourced bottles. Service is fantastic: informative, gentle and precise, with just enough storytelling to deepen the experience without feeling rehearsed. There is confidence in the restraint here, but also warmth and playfulness. Radici Project invites you to slow down and surrender to the experience: graceful, intimate and quietly luxurious.

Niagara’s culinary momentum shows little sign of slowing, and Revé offers another reason to make the trip. For chef Adriano Cappuzzello, however, the connection is more personal. Born in Ragusa, Sicily, he began cooking professionally at 14 before moving through some of Europe’s most celebrated kitchens and eventually landing in Canada. In Niagara, he found echoes of home in the vineyards, farms and changing seasons, and the place to open a restaurant of his own. At Revé, Cappuzzello brings the two together in a tasting menu rooted in his Sicilian heritage and the ingredients of his adopted home. A delicate zucchini flower filled with ricotta brings together honey and chilli powder, while scallops arrive with beurre blanc, salmon roe, French toast and dill oil. Cuttlefish and octopus continue a strong thread of seafood through the menu before a refreshing sorbet offers a welcome pause. The cooking is technically accomplished, but becomes most memorable when Cappuzzello’s Sicily comes into focus. That meeting of old and new homes extends naturally to the wine list, moving between the volcanic soils of Sicily and the limestone-rich vineyards of Niagara. Service is exceptionally attentive, with each course presented with care as the tasting menu progresses. Revé is a deeply personal expression of two places: a Sicilian chef cooking in Niagara, finding connections between landscapes an ocean apart.