When he says his new book, “Apple’s America: The Discriminating Traveler’s Guide to 40 Great Cities in the United States and Canada” (North Point Press, 448 pages, $22.50), is for the “discriminating traveler”, R.W. Apple Jr. isn’t kidding. This caveat also helps explain why proletarian readers like myself might occasionally find themselves gasping at his suggestions. In his entry on Washington, D.C., Mr. Apple recommends that travelers “hire a car and driver” for the 90-minute drive out to the luxurious Inn at Little Washington, in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains. He trumpets the restaurant Sonny Bryan’s, of Dallas, where diners can eat “sublimely smoked barbecued brisket of beef at old school desks or off the hood of your BMW.” In touting Houston’s St. Regis Hotel, he reflects that the “high staff-guest ratio [will] make you feel as if you are staying on a peer’s estate.” Perhaps his peer’s estate, anyway.

Growing out of a series of articles Mr. Apple wrote for the New York Times between 1997 and 2000, “Apple’s America” consists of a summary of each city’s history, culture, and top attractions, followed by hotel and restaurant recommendations. The three Canadian cities Mr. Apple throws in – Montreal, Toronto, and Vancouver – are all world-class. The same cannot be said for many of his American selections, which include bastions of sprawl and decay such as Detroit, Houston, and Baltimore.

Reading through these studious yet rarely surprising city portraits, I found myself repeatedly looking forward to the restaurant recommendations. Featured dishes include “slow-cooked Vermont pig with endive” (Boston, Hammersley’s); “intense, deeply colored pheasant consomme with truffles” (Philadelphia, Lacroix); and an appeal “to your earthy side” at Toronto’s Avalon “with wild boar, luscious duck rillettes, and crispy-outside, creamy-inside calves’ brains.” To give an idea of Mr. Apple’s palate, he mentions dishes with quail no fewer than 10 times.

As these examples suggest, Mr. Apple writes mainly about upscale dining establishments. One Chicago restaurant he recommends is Arun’s, which he says “may be America’s best Thai restaurant” and where diners are treated to a 12-course meal (including two desserts) for a cool $85 a person. But once every three or four chapters – he includes five to 10 restaurant write-ups for each city – he will slip in an entry on some can’t-miss roadside dive. When Mr. Apple writes about a plate of tangy barbecue or an overstuffed cheesesteak, he does so with the enthusiasm of someone who knows that sublime experience doesn’t require a flashy label.

As an analyst of the American city, Mr. Apple understands that his subject matter is often gloomier than it is glamorous. Mr. Apple describes Buffalo, a city that has hemorrhaged almost half its population since the mid-20th century, as “an old dowager.” Referring to Detroit’s woes, he cites a 1996 travel newsletter in which readers rated the city “the world’s least appealing travel destination.” Elsewhere, Mr. Apple occasionally pulls his punches, such as with San Antonio’s River Walk, which most discerning travelers would lament as a tourist trap. Mr. Apple describes it only as “sparkling at night, overhung with cypresses, crossed by humpbacked footbridges.”

All of this prompts the inevitable question: What exactly is Mr. Apple’s America?

Because he never does break free of encyclopedia-entry-like formality, we mainly envision a benign yet culturally rich urban scene – a composite American city where, after a day of taking in the art museums and notable architecture, a traveler can be sure to find an interesting bottle of wine, a bowl of shellfish innovatively prepared, and finally, a fine mattress on which to sleep it all off.