Martin Picard's pig-out palace in the Plateau is a big reason Montréal's culinary scene has been attracting attention in recent years. His synthesis of working-class fare and haute cuisine is masterful, and best sampled in his famous foie gras poutine, which elevates the classic dish of Québec—French fries with gravy and cheese curds—with a tumescent slab of poached duck liver. Nearly everything is drenched in maple syrup and gravy—insanely heavy but sinfully delicious. On any given night, you could be slicing into blood sausage with cured foie gras (much more delicious than it sounds) or surprisingly tender sheep's testicles. In short, it's an adventure into a world where waistlines no longer matter. Sit at the counter, the way Anthony Bourdain does, and reserve well in advance.

Closed Mondays. Open 5 p.m. to midnight.

With its large Italian population and countless artists, Montréal is famous for its café culture. (The city's best cafés are all Italian—just because Montrealers speak French doesn't mean they have to drink espressos and lattes the Gallic way!) Order a latte at Vito at Café Olympico to while away an afternoon in the heart of bohemianism in Mile End (124 Saint Viateur St. W.; 514-495-0746). Or head up to Café Italia in Little Italy to hang with older men and feel like you're on the set of The Godfather (6840 St. Laurent Blvd.; 514-495-0059). For the best macchiato this side of the Mediterranean and a sausage sub served the way Rocco likes 'em, take a detour to Milano Café in the Italian suburb of St. Leonard, a 15-minute drive from the city proper (5196 Jarry St. E., St. Leonard; 514-852-9452).

This casual, mellow neighborhood spot serves the sort of home cooking that you always dream of finding, yet so rarely do. The dishes aren't so different from those you'll find at other joints in Little Italy, but they somehow do gnocchi, rabbit with polenta, and a simple arugula salad better, and with more love, than anybody else. The lobster ravioli is enough to make mama weep, especially when it's paired with private-import Sicilian wines.

Closed Mondays.

Located in a grottolike room with a nouveau–hunting lodge feel and abstract art on the walls, this restaurant in Old Montréal is nothing less than a cave of edible wonders. Chef Claude Pelletier serves his oysters with lemon confit; cream and onion; au gratin with truffles, manchego, and arugula; or just plain. Each bite releases a flavor bomb so exquisite that time all but stops. The melt-in-your-mouth scallops on a bed of fennel purée are a perfect treat before "new school surf and turf," a combination of nouvelle-cuisine miniportions of exquisite seafood with wild game and other masculine meats—perhaps shrimp with bison. Everything on the menu is good, and even better with a savvy wine pairing (ask the staff for their pick). Yes, it'll cost you (the surf and turf alone is $39–$50, depending on market prices), but how can you put a price on ecstasy? Politicians, doctors, lawyers, and young independently wealthy types often crowd the small room; for an intimate repast, ask for a table near the windows. Reserve at least a week in advance.

Closed Sundays and Mondays.

Joe Beef was a 19th-century Montréal tavern proprietor who kept wild animals in the basement. Today, this Little Burgundy restaurant pays homage to the historical figure with classic bistro cuisine. The preparations are simple but tasty: a charcuterie plate with cornichons and candied dates, spit-roasted suckling pig slathered with chanterelles and served with apple compote for dipping, or steamed bivalves (oysters, clams, mussels) served in a Le Creuset pot. Portions are large—it's better to add dishes later than to order too much food all at once. And make room for one of the three daily dessert creations, especially if it's the strawberry cake (white cake layered with fresh berries and topped with a foamy dollop of whipped cream). The only element that doesn't jibe is the music, which tends to be a bit schizo ('90s alt rock hits mixed with '80s hip-hop). This place is small, so reserve your table at least three days in advance.

Closed Sundays and Mondays.

Located in the heart of the Plateau on Rue Saint Denis, this is the quintessential French bistro, purring authenticity with its zinc counters, burgundy walls, and checkered floor. The food is nothing new, but it's all done well: grilled salmon on a bed of spinach, a mean steak frites, beef marrow served in large bones. Squint and you're in Paris. The room, often filled with local entertainers and politicians, is always crackling with energy—making you feel that you're among the crème de la crème of Québecois culture. Even better, L'Express is open from breakfast until 2 a.m. every day.

Montréal's two main open-air markets—filled with local products and seasonal produce, from crisp fiddleheads to heirloom tomatoes to cured hams—are Jean-Talon, located in Little Italy (7070 Henri-Julien St.) and Atwater, situated on the West side of town, in St. Henri (138 Atwater Ave.). Of course, spring and summer are the best times to visit, but both markets remain open indoors during the winter months (Atwater's interior is much more extensive). If the hanging meats, piles of gourds, and fragrant cheeses make you hungry, head to Atwater's inexpensive Pizz'ancora for a bite of pizza (514-935-0333) or Jean-Talon's Boucherie Jos & Basile for a calzone (514-274-6358).

This, Canada's oldest deli, is Montréal's answer to Katz's, and just as essential a stop. Whereas the New York joint serves pastrami, this place on "The Main" specializes in pastrami's close relation, the local Jewish classic: smoked meat. Schwartz's takes great pride in the "secret blend" of herbs and spices it uses in smoking its beef brisket and in its venerable history (it was founded in 1928 by Romanian immigrant Reuben Schwartz). Order up a side of pickles, fries, or slaw to round out your meal. Of course, you could get a turkey sandwich or a steak instead, but that's not why you're here—nor are you here for the ambience, which can best be described as efficient.

This tiny tapas joint, in the out-of-the-way Villeray neighborhood, is a food-lover's dream—the place where locals bring out-of-town friends to impress them (and Gourmet editor-in-chief Ruth Reichl's favorite restaurant in the city). The broccoli rabe with garlic (cost, $5!) is so crisp and flavorful, it's awe-inspiring. Some dishes, such as sardine fillets with fennel, rival plates you might taste at Chez Panisse. Others, like chorizo or gambas a la plancha, combine pristine ingredients with supremely confident preparation so that they seem straight out of an Andalusian eatery. The wine list is simple, well-priced (the most expensive bottle is $100), and full of specialties that you've been trying to find for years. A must visit.

Closed Sundays and Mondays. No lunch on Saturdays.

Despite the French name of this eatery, the lineage of Normand Laprise's cuisine is strictly Berkeley, which means the veneration of local ingredients, many from Québec). Seared razor clams with marinated shiitakes and roasted salsify, guinea fowl with a turnip galette, and roast leg and braised flank of suckling pig with chanterelles and puréed chervil root (yes, root) are typical here. Laprise has been garnering raves from all over since 1993, so you need to book a weekend dinner a month in advance: Toqué moved to the Quartier International from Saint Denis Street in 2004, yet its roomy new dining room (done up in glass, wood, and steel with burgundy upholstery) is as packed as ever.

Closed Sundays and Mondays.