Since November 2025, Céleste has slipped into the downtown dining scene. Set in the Golden Square Mile, in the heart of the historic Maison Alcan, at 2121 Drummond Street, the little sister of Béatrice, Estelle and Café Améa didn’t take long to get noticed, thanks in no small part to a décor already considered one of the most beautiful in the city.
Céleste is the result of a meeting between two well-known figures on Montreal’s Italian scene: Pino Forgione (Béatrice, Estelle, Café Améa) and Michael Coppa, executive chef and co-owner of Café Améa. Améa’s success had created a demand the neighbourhood couldn’t meet. And when the space next door became available, the decision didn’t take long.
In the kitchen, Michael Coppa works alongside chefs Jeffrey Capuano and Frank Gioffre on a regional take on Italy. The steak here isn’t the traditional ribeye: it’s a rib cap, the most tender and marbled part of the rib, seasoned with a Basilicata spice blend carrying warm notes of cinnamon, nutmeg and coriander. The chicken, that most everyday of dishes, becomes more ambitious here, finished with an espresso-sambuca sauce over an anise-scented celeriac purée. And among the must-orders: the gnudi, pasta-less ravioli originating from Tuscany.
As for the décor, everything is designed to create an elegant, bright and spacious setting. Designed by Agostino Di Rigi (ADR Design), the space is built around the concept of Tra Terra e Cielo (“From Earth to Sky”), with an immense skylight over the veranda diffusing a soft light, wood and plants evoking an indoor garden, glass fixtures with a golden touch, and colourful banquettes wrapped in marble.
On pricing, Céleste sits toward the higher end. Starters run roughly $24 to $42, fish and pasta dishes fall more between $36 and $96, and meat dishes meant for sharing climb past $150. Sides, meanwhile, hover around $15.
My experience at Céleste
Right from the entrance: an immense, almost oversized atrium, where a multitude of light globes hang above the tables like a suspended rain of light. I almost regretted being seated at the bar. That great glass wall ringed with greenery seemed to promise an entirely different show.
First to arrive is the branzino tartare. The presentation is almost textbook, moulded into a perfect circle and set on a base of well-crisped breadcrumbs that crack in the mouth. The fish itself is fresh, and the paprika seasoning comes in with a fairly firm hand. Strong enough to make itself known, without overpowering the branzino. On top, the crispy garlic rounds out the paprika’s lingering finish.
Next comes the Icelandic cod carbonara. I’ve always struggled a bit with the spotlighting of fish shipped in from so far away. At the bottom of the plate, artichokes bring a light, almost vinegary acidity that wakes the dish up. The carbonara sauce stands out for its clam, whose flavour, a touch strong, edges close to blue-cheese notes, a bit too strong, honestly. The cod itself is slightly overcooked, but makes up for it with a nice crispiness on top that saves the texture and adds the crunch.
Then, the patate strutto. Unfortunately, these come up a little short on salt and end up fairly bland overall. On top of that, the cooking leaves the potatoes very soft, with almost no bite left under the fork.
