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Fans of real-deal sushi-bar Nipponese are united in huzzahs for Rokai, a sliver of a restaurant in a low-key, high-end section of the Cuauhtémoc quarter, north of the Reforma. Japanese-born chefs Hiroshi Kawahito and Daisuke Maeda change up the menu daily, depending on what’s available at markets (they make great use of some of the best fish that comes in from Baja California); regulars like to nosh omakase-style for a multiple-course tasting at the chef’s discretion. Quality sakes add a rosy glow to the precision with which every creation comes over the bar in this spare but fashionable setting. Reservations are recommended.

Upstairs from her flagship Delirio boutique (also worth a duck-in), a beautiful town house is home to chef Mónica Patiño’s Casa Virginia, featuring a changing seasonal menu that takes creative advantage of Mexico’s wide-ranging culinary variety. Its sunny dining room and nostalgic “shabby chic” details cannot fail to delight; its family-style servings are great for sharing. Recent specials included an endive salad and two artichoke preparations, a squash soup, a Mexican-style osso buco, and a rack of lamb. All ingredients are locally sourced and most of the herbs—a key element in everything Patiño does—are grown on the roof. There can be few more civilized meals anywhere in Mexico City.

A stalwart for business lunches since the days of the Mexican Revolution, is there any reason Bellinghausen needs to change? The old-school refinements include rib-sticking steaks, seafood, and Mexican standards, served in generous portions; delightful garden seating (in addition to the clubby nostalgia of the front dining room); and what some say is the chop-choppiest service in all Mexico City. It’s a mix that keeps the restaurant’s high-end clientele exceedingly happy. More importantly, what comes out of the kitchen is always fresh and expertly prepared; you never sense the chefs are resting on their laurels. In the heart of the now-tatty Zona Rosa, lunch at Bellinghausen offers a glimpse of the neighborhood’s mid-20th-century heyday, when the surrounding blocks were the most bohemian and fashionable in all Latin America.

A who-knows-how-happily-married Diego Rivera commissioned this three-residence compound from Mexican artist and architect Juan O’Gorman in 1931. Jarringly Bauhausian for its time (especially in comparison to the surrounding San Ángel neighborhood’s mission revival gentility), it included separate buildings for Diego and his wife, Frida Kahlo, connected by a slender bridge (as well as a third dwelling for O’Gorman). Visits lead to interiors, showcasing Rivera’s studio and its fascinating collection of artworks, creative infrastructure, and amazing windows. Take time to wander the garden and pause to appreciate the property’s tableaux; then re-tox from all the aesthetic purity across the road at the San Ángel Inn, a gloriously indulgent hacienda bar and restaurant that takes you straight back to the country club—flawless margaritas and all.

A chic deli to be sure, Belmondo serves American-style sandwiches like Reubens, tuna melts, grilled cheeses, etc.—about which its young, fashionable adherents rave—but the menu holds some surprises as well, like a barbecued brisket or a chicken curry on peasant bread. The salad selection is varied and creative, in everything from an old-fashioned Cobb to exquisite local beets with goat cheese and avocado. Breakfast (weekends only before 1:45 p.m.) is also about greatest hits; think eggs Benedict and French toast or one of the very few bagels with gravlax you’ll ever see south of the Rio Grande. The place, in Roma Norte, is famed for celebrity sightings and generally crowded, yet the vibe is low-key, cool, and friendly.

Chef Eduardo García (of Lalo and Máximo Bistrot fame) applies his exquisite taste to a more traditionally French bill of fare at Havre 77, a beautiful dining room on what may be the city’s hippest half-block. Just a smattering of tables (reservations are recommended) and a handsome old-style bar inhabit two rooms and a tiny terrace in a fabulous fin de siècle mansion whose feel is still contemporary; couples favor the restaurant for its romantic, indulgent atmosphere. A pared-down menu hints at the approach: quality over quantity in Gallic standards like onion soup, oysters, a buttery steak frites, duck confit; all ingredients are excellent, leveraging the best of Mexican farms and ranches. Near perfect yet never fussy.

A major driver in the city’s burgeoning food scene, Mercadoroma pays homage to Mexico’s beloved open markets, yet explodes the concept by renting stalls to a dizzying array of purveyors of fine food, beer, wine, and spirits, and other stuffs—all under the same roof. The experience combines picking up staples, hard-to-find cheeses, baked goods, and charcuterie with popping down here or there for a quick gourmet taco, torta, burger, or bit of barbecue. The sweet-tooth set does not leave disappointed, and a retro midcentury vibe makes the market’s shared tables particularly pleasant; the top-floor terrace is a perfect retreat on late afternoons for artisanal beers, mezcals, and a full range of cocktail options. (Check out the market’s sister spot in Coyoacán.)

A sliver of a boutique, with several levels, and discreetly tucked into a quiet street in the Juarez neighborhood, Loose Blues artfully serves up a clever selection of accessories and apparel for its deliberately insouciant, hipster clientele. Its curatorial strategy starts with staples like vinyl LPs and midcentury barware, then drills down to men’s and women’s clothes and footwear that walks a line between Bettie Page, lumberjack, and future shock. Once you’ve loaded up on Hawaiian shirts and skinny-girl jumpsuits, as well as tattoo-inspired and other Mexi-kitsch artworks, retreat to the upstairs café and restaurant, whose airy industrial vibe complements a menu of delights like herbal teas, artisanal brews, and light Japanese fare.

Is this polished industrial space, in an odd corner of the Centro, the thinking man’s disco? Organizers prefer to speak in terms of a cultural center, and the installation’s multiple spaces are venues for everything from literary events and screenings to a dynamic agenda of live-music performances. But it’s the DJs and dancing that are bringing in crowds, crowds that are alternative and low-key, creative, sex-pref-neutral, and seemingly little impressed that their hangout has become so fabulous. Priced-to-move libations and overall edginess keep the crowd skewing young; the space’s various environments add variety to your night out—and sometimes there’s even a place where you can chat (or canoodle) without screaming.

The smallish Plaza Manuel Tolsá—at the end of Calle de Tacuba—is an all-but-perfect urban conglomeration that will thrill architecture fans. To the south lies the 18th-century Palacio de Minería (a former engineering college) whose solid, sober mastery of imposing volume is leavened by the wavy effects of the city’s sinking soils; to the north is the former Palacio de Comunicaciones, now Mexico’s National Art Museum. The collection here is a winner—but some of the structure’s soaring neoclassical spaces will leave you agog. At the corner with the Eje Central thoroughfare stands the city’s beloved old post office, noted for its eclectic, Venetian-style facade and coruscating interiors in marble, bronze, and iron (don’t miss the grand staircase). A recently restored equestrian statue of a somewhat dopey-looking King Charles IV of Spain is a marvelous finishing touch.

The former Colegio de San Ildefonso is a magnificent colonial structure set around several imposing, multistoried arcades with halls now decorated by some of Mexico’s most spectacular murals. Even better, it serves as one of the city’s most ambitious and engaging art museums, with an edgy, wide-ranging focus that never fails to surprise. Recent years’ exhibitions have featured avant-garde foreign artists like Vik Muniz and Ron Meuck; homegrown blockbusters like Javier Marín; Candida Höfer’s striking architectural photography; and Marilyn Manson’s macabre visual works. Try to get a peek into the Colegio’s old amphitheater, where one of Diego Rivera’s first major commissions looks better than ever.

The cobalt-blue-and-brick-red residence where now-legendary Mexican visual artist Frida Kahlo grew up—and at times lived with husband Diego Rivera—is one of the city’s most consistently packed attractions; buying tickets in advance is strongly recommended. That said, the visit is essentially (and justifiably) mandatory and offers fascinating glimpses into this extraordinary woman’s life and work. In addition to holding some of her paintings, the house also functions as a showcase for her library, astounding wardrobe, and collection of pre-Columbian artifacts; it additionally bears witness to her close association with left-wing politics. What’s more, the museum portrays the artist’s struggles with depression, marital infidelities, disability, and illness. The house’s garden—home to a modest café and mostly bashful felines—makes for a great breather before more strolling in the Coyoacán neighborhood.

A wildly colorful, cartoonish emoji mural sets the scene for fun, fabulous Lalo, the casual-chic outpost from chef Eduardo García (whose Máximo Bistrot is adjudged one of the finest spots in the city). Tables for two are the first to fill, so diners usually find themselves at a long shared table, choosing from a menu of small(ish) plates that pack real flavor and cleverly blend familiar comforts with more-unusual, yet equally tempting, combinations. Breakfast faves include a sinful French toast or less conventional choices like chilaquiles in salsa verde; fluffy omelettes contain amazing cheeses and surprising ingredients. And don’t be shy with pastries. Lunch swings to raved-about pastas and pizzas, or the salad whose ingredients all come fresh from nearby Xochimilco. Artisanal beers and homemade sodas are a sensation as well.

Long the heart of the Condesa district (even during the dark days following Mexico City’s devastating 1985 earthquake), today’s Parque México is the quintessential urban park. Well-manicured with ample seating and a recently refurbished open-air forum that plays host to groovy neighborhood events as well as perennial skateboarders, the park’s venerable trees provide shade to the area’s easy-on-the-eyes crowd of joggers, dog walkers, cute old folks, and amorous teens. Along the garden’s perimeter, some of the city’s smartest apartment houses (often in flawless art deco style) share space with cool cafés, kicky boutiques, and crowded restaurants. Few city pleasures surpass Parque México’s people-watching (and pooch-watching) over coffee or cocktails, as golden sunlight streams through branches onto lively, see-and-be-seen sidewalk venues.

Mexico City’s mammoth cathedral was built across three centuries (1573–1813)—starting soon after Cortés and his allies vanquished the Aztec Empire—using stones taken from a destroyed indigenous temple. Today’s sanctuary serves up contrasts between unadorned neoclassical walls alongside exuberant gilt chapels and altarpieces as well as a massive pipe organ, with some baroque elements, that’s still dusted off and played from time to time. Be sure not to miss the high altar, and consider shelling out for a visit to the sacristy, with its glistening dome, grand canvases, and massive cabinets, fit to hold an archbishop’s entire stock of holy utensils. And for a queasy view of how much the ground beneath the city is sinking, note how chandeliers appear to list in comparison to the chapel’s vertical lines.