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The splendid neoclassical church of San Felipe Neri (commonly called “La Profesa”), whose present structure was completed in 1720, is a gem in Mexico’s bustling downtown that many visitors never see, with a balanced, harmonious main chapel in sober stone and glossy gold tones. Even fewer visit the church’s picture gallery, called the Pinacoteca, home to one of the city’s most complete collections of colonial-era religious art, imposingly arrayed in a handful of high-ceilinged chambers that seem not to have changed a whit since viceregal days. No such thing as gilding the lily here.

Chef José Andrés celebrates carnivores at this one-of-a-kind Philippe Starck–designed restaurant in SLS Las Vegas. As the name suggests, meat plays a role on nearly every plate here. A classic beef tartare is accompanied by a little skillet of Parker House rolls, and a bison carpaccio is served Buffalo-style with celery, blue cheese, and hot sauce. There are caviar flights and tiny sandwiches that amount to nothing more than bites. Among the many main courses available—rack of New Zealand lamb, chateaubriand, grilled octopus—the most famous dish is a suckling pig prepared in a Spanish cazuela so the skin gets crispy and the meat tender. For all the focus on flesh, there’s a surprising number of salads and vegetable dishes.

Lardo, a sister restaurant to chef Elena Reygadas’s Rosetta and her bakery, is especially warm and buzzy on sunny days, when the Condesa restaurant’s full facade of French doors is thrown open and its handsome crowd spills out. The kitchen applies all the chef’s singular refinements to a winning mix of Tuscan recipes that put special focus on fine charcuterie. Menu items are (perhaps deceptively) simple: poached eggs, seasoned variously; a nice selection of pizzas; fresh, vinegary salads that don’t go overboard; grilled shellfish. The complexity arises from their delicacy on the palate, where each crisp taste is savored separately—and as a part of the whole. A nice wine list encourages sobremesa, the delightful Mexican custom of lingering over the table. Breads—either the ones that come with your meal or the ones you take home from the on-site bakery—might be the best in the city.

Housed in a 1964 structure whose modern lines and central fountain greatly complement what’s on view, this anthropology museum is a repository of the most important pre-Hispanic treasures modern Mexico has discovered. The works are displayed in exhibits that trace the entire history of the Americas’ indigenous population, from the Bering migration to the present day. Exhaustive (and sometimes exhausting) in scope, many visitors choose to jump ahead to “greatest-hits” galleries focusing on name brands like the Aztecs (to see their misnamed calendar stone); the Maya and their artifacts; or the Olmec culture, famed for its colossal (and quite sensual) head sculptures dating back to Mesoamerica’s earliest recorded eras.

A sense of nerdy fun suffuses the proceedings at La Increíble Librería, a bookstore whose proprietors have already combed through the standard shop’s offerings and whittled it down to a mix of vintage and new volumes, all noteworthy for their rarity, extraordinary design, or winning sense of nostalgia. Airy but eclectic, the boutique is designed to showcase 5,000 volumes only (practically nothing for a bookstore) and also sells ephemera as well as high-design stationery; an ambitious coffee-and-snack menu invites you to linger as well. Give yourself time to browse and you’re sure to happen on some title you never knew you couldn’t live without. Most days, the vibe is library-quiet, but don’t be afraid to consult the knowledgeable, friendly staff.

Full disclosure: It’s authentically tourist-tacky in Plaza Garibaldi, the traditional Mexico City center for mariachi music and culture. But when you’re ready for a serenade, you’re ready. The plaza fills up late at night, every night, with a motley crew of local revelers from all walks of life, plus visitors, vendors, and dozens of extravagantly attired orchestras. Taking a table at Salón El Tenampa, right on the plaza, may afford a modicum of order. A Garibaldi institution beneath its fabulous neon sign, this music hall pulls in a fascinating, Felliniesque crew of misbehaving pencil pushers, shady ladies, brokenhearted tequila swillers, wide-eyed travelers, and slumming hipsters. Strolling bands—usually pretty good—are available for hire, but bring them in close to your table to avoid sonic interference from every other trumpet in the joint.

Pamela Echeverría founded her original Avenida Ámsterdam space in 2010, after experiences at Galería OMR and the Museo de Arte Carrillo Gil. Since then, the gallery has made a name for itself by providing a forum for contemporary-art proposals based on impassioned research; its catalog has included artists such as Teresa Margolles (2009 Venice Bienniale and the 2012 Prince Claus Award), Erick Beltrán, Santiago Sierra (2003 Venice Bienniale, representing Spain), and Héctor Zamora, as well as Jill Magid, Pablo Vargas Lugo, Terence Gower, and Antonio Vega Macotela. Labor’s current headquarters were originally functionalist architect Enrique del Moral’s 1948 residence and lie just across the street from 1980 Pritzker Prize winner Luis Barragán’s house, which was declared a UNESCO World Heritage site in 2004.

Once a separate town, the leafy colonial neighborhood known as Coyoacán has long been absorbed into the city at large, but retains a separate, old-fashioned air that’s impossible to resist. Restaurants and ice cream parlors (plus some venerable, divey cantinas) cluster around the quarter’s two central plazas that fill daily with strolling families, bootblacks, balloon sellers, and organ grinders. Feeling noshy? Locals swear by the esquites (stewed and seasoned corn kernels) on offer at a street stall next to the Sanborns store, right on Plaza del Centenario. A walk down Calle Francisco Sosa takes you past some of the city’s most valuable (often colonial-era) residences and ends at adorable Plaza Santa Catarina, with its petite parish church and a handful of friendly watering holes when it’s time for a drink or a snack.

The close-in neighborhood called Colonia Roma was first developed at the dawn of the 20th century as a high-end suburb laid out along tree-lined boulevards and plazas. Prominent families erected elaborate residences in architectural styles ranging from neoclassical to art nouveau and even neo-Moorish. A century later—despite some ups and downs—the district is at a peak as one of Mexico City’s most fashionable areas, and old mansions now serve as retail spaces or smart dining rooms that open out onto the street, day and night, in that marvelous dolce vita way. Stroll the quarter’s main drag, Álvaro Obregón, afternoons and evenings, for a complete sampling of its urban pleasures; shopaholics with an eye for edgy design won’t want to miss the whimsical boutiques that line adjacent Cerrada Colima. Deeper dives into side streets and nearby plazas turn up even more surprises when you’re ready for a walkabout.

This all-but-plain-Jane spot—in Clavería, a neighborhood “no one” knows—is in fact among the most delightful lunches in the city, the project of architect turned chef Gerardo Vázquez Lugo, who decided to take the neighborhood restaurant his parents had run for decades to the next culinary level, yet without ever losing touch with his roots. The queen-bee hostess and waitstaff make sure every diner feels special, with plenty of talk about what’s fresh this season—and what’s so good it’s about to run out. Items on offer cover everything from refined versions of street classics to exquisite, almost exotic, wild-game preparations whose recipes come from some of Mexico’s remotest corners. Live music and an excellent mezcal cart sweeten the already delicious deal.

Forever on the verge of being the next big target of gentrification, the district known as Santa María la Ribera—northwest of downtown—retains its neighborhoody, down-at-the-heels charms. Its streets are home to a mix of old-school cantinas (all perfectly visitor-friendly) and mom-and-pop restaurants, alongside some neglected architectural gems, hipster coffeehouses, and standard-issue, sometimes grimy local businesses—in short, it’s still real. The district’s centerpiece is its central plaza, known as the Alameda, and its exuberant Moorish-style gazebo (it started life as the Mexico Pavilion at a long-forgotten world’s fair). Recently restored and awash in color, the kiosk is a gem—and the proud emblem of the barrio. Note some amazing old mansions and the spooky Institute of Geology lining the plaza. The nearby Museo Universitario del Chopo—housed in a glass-and-cast-iron former natural-history museum—is a renowned center for avant-garde art that leaves no viewer less than provoked.

What began with Azul y Oro—chef Ricardo Muñoz Zurita’s high-end university “refectory”—is now a multi-restaurant group famed for an almost museum-like reverence for traditional Mexican cooking in all its infinite variety. The downtown iteration, called Azul Histórico, is a gorgeous space in the courtyard of a 17th-century colonial palace (once inhabited by descendants of the Emperor Montezuma) and is now one of the Centro’s most sought-after tables, terribly romantic beneath its tree-and-candlelight canopy. Menus are seasonal and themed—often focusing on cuisine from Mexico’s regions and states—and are sure to present some delicacies even most Mexicans never knew before. Ask questions and swing just beyond your comfort zone. Out-of-towners and locals alike love the flair with which dishes emerge from the kitchen, in extravagant, eye-catching Mexican pottery.

Though his reputation is now arguably overshadowed by that of his former wife, painter and muralist Diego Rivera—commissioned by Mexico’s postrevolutionary governments starting in the late 1920s to adorn several national monuments in complex, pageantry- and allegory-laden wall paintings—was among the first Mexican artists to gain worldwide acclaim. Many of his finest works are on display in the Centro Histórico. Perhaps most spectacular are Rivera’s portrayals of Mexico’s millennia-long history, as seen in the Palacio Nacional on the Zócalo (Mexico City’s main square; take a state-issued ID for admission to the palace); a more contemporary depiction of socialist workers’ struggles (and one which includes a Frida Kahlo cameo) decorates a courtyard at the Secretariat of Public Education. One of the artist’s earliest pieces can be seen inside the amphitheater at the San Ildefonso museum. Additionally, the dazzling Sueño de una Tarde Dominical en la Alameda Central, a surrealist who’s-who of Mexico’s turbulent fin de siècle, is the chief artwork on display at the nearby Museo Mural Diego Rivera.

One of Mexico City’s most historic neighborhoods—a once-independent city-state politically joined to the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan—Tlatelolco is a fascinating side trip few tourists make. At its center lies the district’s so-called Square of the Three Cultures, where a colossal public housing development (of revitalized interest to architecture buffs) surrounds a 17th-century Spanish church (notably embellished with stained-glass windows by 20th-century artist and architect Mathias Goeritz) as well as the ruins of pre-Hispanic Tlatelolco pyramids and other structures. In addition to being the exact spot on which the Aztec empire fell, the square was also the site where Mexican armed forces perpetrated a bloody 1968 massacre of university students and political activists. Tragedy aside, the area is still home to thousands of hardworking average Joes, and the community garden, known as the huerto, is pure down-home bucolic charm; it’s well worth a pop-in.

The system of canals and chinampas (cultivated artificial islands fashioned from the area’s swampy soils) that has survived in the far-south neighborhood known as Xochilmilco once stretched all the way to the Centro. To this day, the community is known for its plant nurseries and vegetable gardens. These ancient landscapes now contribute to what has become one of the most singular pleasure gardens in the world, where visitors hire “gondoliers” to propel boats known as trajineras as they sail these channels in the company of floating mariachis and food vendors, partying teens, and extended families out for a picnic lunch. Since a tour is usually a four-hour-plus investment (it flies by), ask your oarsman to take you to Xochimilco’s more-rural precincts, where you’ll enjoy marvelous quiet, far from the madding crowd, in the company of cranes, curs, and picturesque cornfields.