A chef's perspective: How pop-ups are keeping Montreal's food scene alive

Montreal's food scene is tight enough that we all know each other, but big enough to always feel alive. There’s always something new—an opening, an event, a pop-up —that flips your idea of dinner. They introduce new chefs. They let restaurants and cooks back each other up.

Ten years ago, this barely existed. Now, every chef I meet is either doing it or talking about collaborating someday. When two kitchens collide, the energy lands online and fills the room. People line up to taste something you can’t get twice.

In 2025, rent’s wild and opening a restaurant feels like a gamble. Pop-ups are the loophole: They let new chefs test the waters without going broke and give exposure to a new generation of talent. This is how the scene regenerates.

I left a ten-year career to make pasta for a living, and I started doing pop-ups before I had anything else figured out. No plan, only friends down to lend me their kitchen for a night and a list of people I hoped would show up. And they did.

The city’s got sauce


Montreal isn’t short on talent. We crush fine dining—just try getting a table at Parapluie or Sabayon—but we’ve also got chefs cooking fire dishes out of back alleys and wine bars with kitchens the size of a bathtub. You work with whatever space you’ve got, and somehow, it bangs.

Pop-ups shine a light on all of it, the talent and the hustle. They let you experiment. They give people a taste of who you are. It’s the new way to show up, not just with food, but also with personality. They aren’t just hype; they’re shaping the future of the food scene in increments of nights, dishes, and rooms.

Ask around. Everyone’s got a one-time-only meal burned into their memory. Maybe it was the best zucca lasagna you ever had at Le Violon. Maybe it was Laurent Dagenais’s lobster roll you lined up for at Menu Extra. Or maybe it was a perfect summer hangout anchored by nothing more than a Castel Franco tomato sandwich.

Chefs you’d actually hang with


I’ve done a few pop-ups with my boy Charles Dumais, chef-owner at Nolan. His food is refined, seasonal, technique-forward. Mine’s more traditional and playful. What we do is different, but we get each other. We co-create without ego.

Cooking with him is just stupid fun. We push each other. I show him pasta moves, he puts me on to ingredients I wouldn’t have touched before. It’s a knowledge exchange that makes both of us better.

Recently, I cooked at Jean Talon Market for an event with four powerhouse women chefs: Ashley Thornton, Karine Beauchamp, Natalia Machado, and Natacha Lehmann. All from different backgrounds. Five minds, five styles, five stories.

What lifted the whole dinner was how intentional every detail was. We sourced from women-led farms, poured wines from women winemakers—the menu celebrated a support system you could taste.

We were giving the spotlight to the people behind the ingredients. Celebrating women in the industry. It felt like I was part of something bigger. And I’d cook with these baddies again any day.

In Montreal, collaborating like this isn’t just for fun. It’s how the restaurant scene stays strong. When we do a pop-up, we’re not just serving a cool experience. We’re showing people who we vibe with, what kind of food we care about, and what kind of energy we’re on. It’s networking, sure, but it’s also building culture.

The food scene thrives when we lift each other up. The reach grows, the ideas stretch, and when one of us wins, we all do.

Two worlds, one plate


Pop-ups are where I feel the most free. There are no rules, it’s all creativity and community. I get to try new things. I keep doing them because they remind me how far I’ve come, and because that high sticks with me for days.

Pop-ups are like a dope remix. You bring what you’ve got. They bring theirs. And where it overlaps, that’s the sweet spot. Something new hits.

You see faces you haven’t in months, people you only knew by their usernames. Someone brings their mom. Someone’s on a first date. Someone drove in from out of town just to see what the hype was about.

Pop-ups challenge us as chefs. We step out of our comfort zone, into new ideas. We get to play, and take risks.

In a city like Montreal, where the food scene is bold and always moving, this is how we keep it alive. This is how we innovate.

Emilie Madeleine is the pasta chef at Mano Cornuto and the hands behind @itsonlypasta. Her Substack carbonara club offers a space for anyone into slow and good food to level up their pasta game:

"Expect bangers and recipes you can whip up in your sweatpants. Get chef tips on making fresh pasta at home. Most recipes work with dry pasta too so no pressure if you’re just tryna eat. Just come chill even."