What Counts as a Food City?

Every city with a few decent restaurants wants the title. You can hear it whispered in Ottawa, shouted in Montreal, flaunted in Toronto. “We’re a food city.” But what does that actually mean?

A food city isn’t just a place with good food. That bar is too low. Every city has at least a handful of kitchens producing thoughtful plates, every city has chefs capable of brilliance. That’s not enough.

A true food city is a conversation. Between chefs and diners, yes, but also between restaurants themselves. It’s competition and collaboration, inspiration and provocation. It’s one place raising the bar, another responding, and a third taking the idea somewhere completely different. It’s a scene, not a list.

It’s also infrastructure. Reviewers who aren’t afraid to be sharp. Media that covers more than openings and closings. Suppliers who push quality instead of bulk. An audience that shows up, spends, debates, and demands better. Without those pieces, the best chefs might as well be singing into a void.

So, is Ottawa a food city? Not yet. It’s a city with food, sometimes very good food. But the connective tissue—the dialogue, the risk-taking, the audience that insists on being taken seriously—is thin. That doesn’t mean it can’t change. It means the claim isn’t earned. Not yet.

Maybe the question isn’t whether Ottawa is a food city. Maybe the question is whether it even wants to be.