The Michelin Guide - A Chef’s Analysis.
A chef’s relationship with the Michelin guide is a complicated one. If my restaurant isn’t in the guide, I will nonchalantly explain that their standards are generally outdated and their opinion entirely overrated. But if it is in the guide, it will be the first thing I mention: “I work at this restaurant – you don’t know it? It’s in the Michelin guide”.
The guide, conceived by French brothers Michelin as a marketing scheme for their car tyre manufacturing company at the turn of the 20th century, is now widely seen as the most esteemed and trusted guide in the hospitality industry. Their criteria, according to their website, involve “the quality of the ingredients used, mastery of flavour and cooking techniques, the personality of the chef in the cuisine, harmony of flavours, and consistency between visits”. They supposedly disregard interior décor, table setting, and service quality when reviewing a restaurant.
The reviewers, or “inspectors”, act entirely anonymously and are meant to be independent, reliable, and passionate experts in the food and hospitality industry. In an anonymous interview, a former Michelin employee talks about the extensive training involved in qualifying as an inspector, after which they spend around three weeks a month travelling and eat up to ten meals a week as part of their jobs. No single inspector is responsible for a restaurant. Each restaurant gets reviewed by a diverse group of inspectors from different regions to ensure an objective and thorough judgement.
Be that as it may, we all have our own understanding of what a Michelin restaurant looks like, and certain expectations whenever we walk into a recognised restaurant. And I think we tend to agree that it isn’t solely the food on the plate which influences the inspectors’ decisions. For lack of a better word, there tends to be a certain vibe about the place; when comparing Michelin restaurants, their service, style, and overall atmosphere play a great role in the dining experience, suggesting that these too are part of the criteria. Indeed, I would say that I could walk into any restaurant and tell whether it is in the guide or attempting to get in long before tasting the food. I’m sure most seasoned foodies or hospitality workers could do the same. Surely, this suggests that there is a certain standardised formula which restaurants can adopt to fulfil a Michelin standard that has nothing to do with the “quality of ingredients” or “harmony of flavours”.
There has long been criticism about the guide’s preference for restaurants which fit into and fulfil a Western, particularly French fine dining standard, not just in terms of the cuisine, but also regarding the presentation and formality of the institution. A former Michelin inspector has previously pointed out the guide’s near-religious appreciation of old-school French chefs like Alain Ducasse or Paul Bocuse, quoting Ducasse’s successful attempt of contesting the guide’s decision to withdraw a star in 1997 and 2001.
While the guide has diversified its recognised cuisines, the concept of fine dining and what it is meant to look like seems to have only become more standardised; elaborate tasting menus with innumerable small plates (i.e. one mouthful of food on a big plate) often involving yet another foam, a swooshed puree, a micro-flower carefully placed with the help of a tweezer, and an elegant drizzle of a bright herb oil. It is understood among chefs that the food alone is not enough to win a star, but that it also requires the restaurant to acquire status symbols like matching uniforms, elegant crockery, and pristine crystals – a financial investment not many restaurants can afford.
We must also remember that the guide is still first and foremost a business in need of income, some of which comes from regional tourism boards, influencing where Michelin does and doesn’t investigate. A New York Times article explains how some tourism agencies in the US spent up to $100,000 to “get” the guide, while nearby regions and their respective restaurants were entirely neglected due to their failure to contribute. It transcends, therefore, that to be considered for the guide, a restaurant will need to be located in an area wealthy enough to afford Michelin.
I don’t deny that I, too, appreciate the guide as a reference for restaurants. But the Michelin’s recommendations, along with any guide’s suggestions, are merely a product of their time and of what is considered “good” and “fashionable” by a privileged few. To judge a restaurant solely based on their success or failure to make it into the guide would therefore be to disregard the great variety of food and eating-out experiences available today. And that’s all without even considering the widely observed impact the guide has on the mental health and wellbeing of the chefs, which is believed to have led to cases as severe as the suicides of esteemed chefs in recent years.
As such, it is important to remember that the guide is not the be all end all of food; in many ways, it perpetuates a cultural hegemony of food and favours restaurants and restaurateurs who have the means to fulfil the expensive standard of what we now consider fine dining, a standard largely set by Michelin itself. A non-Michelin restaurant doesn’t mean a bad meal, nor will a Michelin restaurant guarantee a good experience.
Yet, having just written an entire piece breaking down the integrity of the Michelin guide, I wonder – would I still say all these things if I was working in a Michelin restaurant? Or is this merely a bitter chef trying to take down the institution, looking on in from the outside?