Arguably the rot set in some 25 years ago, when rockstar chef Marco Pierre White claimed that he was ‘giving back’ his three Michelin stars. White said he was over Michelin; that the acclaimed restaurant ranking guide had lost touch with reality and wasn’t consistent in its somewhat cryptic judgements. And he was only the first, too: over the years since a spate of high profile chefs have effectively renounced Michelin — even if, technically, stars are awarded not to an individual chef but to a dining establishment. The late, acclaimed chef Skye Gyngell, of London’s Petersham Nurseries, for example, said she prayed never to be awarded another star.
And still the rebellion grows. Last year Giglio, an Italian restaurant in Lucca, asked for its star to be removed from Michelin’s famous ‘red book’ guide. It had become more of a deterrent to diners than a lure. And then the acclaimed French chef Marc Veyrat went so far as to ban Michelin’s mystery diners-cum-inspectors from his restaurant in Megeve altogether. In 2019 he’d lost a star at one of his other restaurants because — shock! — he’d allegedly used cheddar in a soufflé. He called Michelin “the gravediggers of French gastronomy”.
The original Petersham Nurseries restaurant
Certainly chefs have suggested that, for many of them, Michelin is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, working for an establishment that’s awarded a star — let alone two or three — undoubtedly remains the ultimate accolade in their line of work, especially if it’s their name over the door. A chef with a Michelin star will forever after be referred to as ‘Michelin-starred chef Insert name here...’. Some have suggested that there are financial advantages too, with takings said to increase 20% for one star, 40% for two and 100% for three.
And yet, on the other hand, there’s talk of what Gyngell called the ‘curse of Michelin’: that a star comes with a huge increase in pressure, both to maintain that star (each establishment with one is, in theory, reassessed on an annual basis to gauge whether they should keep it, or, indeed, be awarded another) but also to meet the expectations of diners, which are also inevitably amped up.
Luca restaurant in Farringdon, which holds one Michelin star
'A stick to beat yourself with'
While a Michelin star is meant to be a judgement of nothing else but a restaurant’s food — the quality of ingredients, the skill and personality of the cooking, its consistency and, less believably these days, its value for money — invariably the kind of diners drawn to a Michelin starred place tend to want a certain formality in the setting and spectacle in the dishes. Conversely, as many people are also turned off by their notion of what a scary Michelin-starred restaurant must be like even when it isn’t.
No wonder Michael Deane, who held a single star for 30 years (eventually ‘handing his back’ when he decided he wanted to take his business in a new direction, effectively wiping his Michelin slate clean) would note how some chefs think of the award as “just a stick to beat yourself with”.
Certainly Michelin’s reputation has at times faltered, such that many an aspiring chef might wonder if the whole scheme isn’t more a kind of useful propaganda rather than a genuine reflection of greatness in the kitchen. Thanks to a handful of whistle blowers, Michelin has been beset with bad PR about its practices, with certain among its inspectors — who pay to eat at restaurants anonymously, and spend most of their year on the road, eating heavy meal after heavy meal — suggesting that actually it’s a rare thing for a restaurant to undergo regular assessment. There just aren’t enough inspectors to go around. They’d also claim that around a third of restaurants in Michelin’s guide were deemed ‘untouchable’, something Michelin would deny. Michelin has also been accused of bias towards younger chefs, and male ones.
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Michael Deane, owner and chef at Deanes
There has been what some would call poor management, too. In 2020 Michelin introduced a green star as an accolade for those restaurants that showed exemplary sustainability. Last year it unceremoniously withdrew the award — much to the ire of those chef/owners who had striven to win it and who were now barred from advertising as much. This was all because, it’s assumed (Michelin isn’t saying why) too many diners were confusing green star restaurants with one star restaurants.
Worth a 20 mile diversion
Then there’s Michelin’s limited scope: it’s only in recent years that Michelin has extended beyond its heartlands of Europe and the big American cities, into, for example, Asia, where the culinary scene was world-class long before Michelin recognised it as such. The bigger problem in this? To offset declining sales of its printed guide, Michelin has struck deals with national tourist boards in the likes of China and South Korea — somewhat compromising any assessment its inspectors might subsequently make.
This is, at least, in keeping with the origins of the Michelin Guide. It was created in 1900 by Andre and Edouard Michelin, founders of the French tyre manufacturing giant that takes their surname, who saw it as a way of getting the few people who owned a car at the time to travel further afield. It started awarding stars a century ago this year, in 1936 introducing the multi-star system, one meaning ‘this is a safe place for travellers to eat at’, through to three, which meant ‘this is worth a 20 mile diversion’.
It would sell a lot of guides — way, way more than there were cars in France. But then, historically, Michelin wasn’t above promoting anything if it boosted demand for its tyres: within a year of WW1 ending, it was publishing a guide to the best battlefields to visit. This continued to be published annually, and to great success, all the way up until 1938 when, erm, events would soon make its poor taste somewhat more obvious.
Changing tastes
But perhaps the biggest problem for Michelin is that it simply hasn’t kept pace with the times. That popular misconception of what a Michelin-starred restaurant is like — a bit stiff, with a dress code, a lot of white linen and fussy staff — cuts against the way people dine in the 21st century, especially younger people, and especially during what’s proving to be a rather extended ‘cost of living crisis’. In fairness to Michelin, it has broadened its remit: street food vendors can now, officially at least, win a Michelin star, but this is a rare event.
“We now get very few enquiries from chefs wanting to open a restaurant that’s really premium. Eating habits have just changed. People are more excited about simple food done well, served in a more casual environment,” argues Ben Floyd, founder of hospitality consultancy Lumiere, which counts Harrods among its clients and which soon opens its own Covent Garden restaurant, Subsume.
“Of course chefs still want a star on their CV, for all of the emotional and physical toll it takes to get one. But I don’t think Michelin resonates with customers as it used to.”
Pastry Chef Thomas Scheiblhoferin
It’s not just attitudes to what constitutes a great dining experience that have changed radically. So have our means of assessing whether a restaurant is worth our heavy expenditure. Arguably Michelin wins publicity way out of proportion to its actual relevance: how many people really consult the Michelin Guide to work out where to dine next? Rather, most now rely if not on personal recommendation, then on social media, or one of the multitude of other guides online that might be more in tune with their tastes. It surely doesn’t help that online commentary so often suggests people leave their Michelin experience decidedly underwhelmed, at least for what they’ve been charged.
Sure, Michelin may still count for much within the hospitality industry. Outside of it, among diners, not so much. And, some say, even less so among actual foodies, at least compared with those who see their restaurant choices as more about status signalling than the culinary excellence they’d otherwise struggle to identify. Perhaps a parallel might be drawn here with the Oscars. Who won what used to be a topic of enthusiastic interest in popular culture. Now it’s a brief headline and we all move on to watch what our mates suggest is worth watching, statuette or not.
“In my experience Michelin inspectors were always thorough and fair — and much better than any self-taught food blogger,” says Michael Deane.
“I’d always believed [the high-end restaurant business] was all about the food but started to want the kind of place that paid more attention to the feel good factor, not the kind of place where if you drop your fork 10 waiters come rushing over.
"I’m not sure who wants that now,” he adds. “It’s a big enough struggle out there as it is, with staff and food prices having to go up, with staff suffering a lot of burn out. So maybe Michelin has lost its point.
"And yet I still think every city needs at least one Michelin-starred restaurant — it’s a magnet. And for chefs a star is still the holy grail. The fact is that you still have to be able to really fucking cook to get one. That must count for something”.
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Josh Sims is a freelance writer and editor based in the U.K. He’s a contributor to The Times (London), Esquire, Robb Report, Vogue and The South China Morning Post, among other publications. He has written on everything from space travel to financial bubbles, and art forgery to the pivotal role of donkeys in the making of civilisation.
A former editor of British style magazines Arena Homme Plus and The Face, Sims is also the author of several books on style including the best-selling Icons of Men’s Style. He’s married and has two boys. His household is too damn loud.
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