Some restaurants earn a spot on your list the moment someone whispers their name to you like a well-kept secret. Limbo, for me, had been on that list ever since its 2026 Bib Gourmand was announced (that Michelin distinction reserved for addresses that deliver remarkable cooking without emptying your bank account).
Limbo is, above all, a large bar stretching across nearly the full width of the room. Seating, on the other hand, is scarce. Just a handful of tables, an intimate space that creates a kind of warm closeness with fellow diners. At the back, the kitchen opens onto the room, a genuine window onto the work in progress. I spent a good part of the meal watching the brigade’s movements, that silent, precise ballet that hints at what’s coming on the plate. Nothing is hidden from you. The menu shifts regularly with the seasons and what’s available. 95 Canadian dollars for the full tasting menu. Limbo hits hard. I paid that amount without even ordering from the regular menu.
My experience at Restaurant Limbo
The first course arrives, Pommes dauphines crispy & mussel, stuffed with a blend of Indian spices that does not attempt subtlety. On top, a mussel sits proudly… but more as an ornament than as an active player in the bite. You eat it, of course, but you find yourself wondering what it truly adds to the whole, alongside the very assertive turmeric. At that moment, I caught myself thinking that pommes dauphines are not typically stuffed, and that perhaps a simple, subtle incorporation of turmeric into the dough itself would have built a more natural bridge between the potato puff and the mussel.
Next, white asparagus served cold, lightly acidulated from pickling, find in a foam sabayon a partner of rare delicacy. But the real luxury is the deeply briny sauce, into which I happily dipped my bread. The harmony of fresh asparagus and acidity, combined with seafood, works perfectly.
The following course, veal tongue, is meltingly tender, coated in a rich, fatty, unapologetic sauce. Resting beneath a fresh, sharply acidic salad that cuts through the richness of the sauce. The second savoury course is beyond reproach, a snow crab on a bed of sea beans, slightly acidic and crisp, a combination of textures and flavours that works perfectly. The beurre blanc is precise and elegant. But the promised pepper makes itself scarce. A slightly bolder seasoning to finish the plate, and we would have been touching perfection. It’s the only reservation about an otherwise very accomplished dish.
The dessert is a chocolate, whipped cream & peanut millefeuille, the pastry as crisp as it should be, the kind that cracks under the knife, balanced by an inspired chocolate cream, enriched with peanut for an earthy, indulgent depth, and an airy chantilly for lightness. This is the kind of sweet plate that looks effortless but is the result of carefully calculated balance. A perfect dessert.
The meal’s finale took me on a journey through Quebec while remaining resolutely contemporary. The Marquis’s soft cake with béchamel, somewhere between a molten cake and a flan, carries a touch of maple syrup that knows when to hold back, accompanied by tender rhubarb stalks whose acidity balances the sweetness of the whole. The béchamel (surprising in a dessert) delivers a melt-in-the-mouth richness you never see coming.
