What Remains of Michelin’s Authority?

Origin

The most basic rule of market economics is simple: before launching a product, you study demand. You measure its size, its expectations, its limits. You identify competitors. Only then you decide whether to enter the market and how.

Historically, the Michelin Guide did none of this. It was unashamedly an elitist institution. And that is precisely why it worked.

When it first appeared in 1900, Michelin was not a business venture. It was a gift, offered to loyal clients who bought Michelin tires – much like the small booklets banks once sent to their best customers at New Year.

The inspectors of the Michelin guide, whose identities were kept secret, were not critics in the modern sense. They were Michelin employees – engineers and staff traveling across France for work.

At the beginning, the guide recommended restaurants without any formal distinction. The first star was introduced in 1926. The three star system, as we know it today, would only be established 5 years later, in 1931.

In 1933, for the first time, a single chef was awarded three stars for two separate restaurants. The recipient was Eugénie Brazier, a woman chef who owned two restaurants in Lyon. Bernard Pacaud, who trained under her, continued to cook her dishes in his own Michelin three-star restaurant until his retirement three months ago. A new chef has since taken over, but L’Ambroisie in Paris still retains its three stars.

In a sense, Michelin was international from the very beginning. As early as 1907, it was evaluating restaurants in Algeria and Tunisia, then French colonies. Switzerland and Belgium—where French cuisine predominated—were also included. In 1956, Ireland and the United Kingdom joined the guide.

That said, what was being evaluated was clearly French cuisine. Pioneering chefs such as Marco Pierre White, Gordon Ramsay, and Pierre Koffmann—whether French or not—embraced the philosophy of classical French gastronomy, whose parameters had been defined by the legendary Carême and Escoffier.

⁠⁠2005: The Turning Point

The year 2005 marked a major turning point with the publication of Michelin New York. Restaurants with no connection to French cuisine were included for the first time. From 2007 onward, this expansion continued into Japan, China, Singapore, Korea, South America, and the Middle East.

Meanwhile, two developments occurred that I would describe as vital.

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First, Michelin today defines the qualifications for inspectors as follows:

“Before being employed by Michelin as inspectors, candidates must have been trained in hospitality or culinary schools and must possess significant professional experience in the field.”

It was not always this way. Until the 1960s, inspectors were generally engineers or similar company employees who simply had a strong interest in good food. They were what the French would call bon vivants and amateur passionnés— knowledgeable, passionate amateurs who loved to eat and drink well. From the 1960s onward, however, professionals began to enter their ranks. By the 1980s, and especially with the emergence of outward-looking international guides, the Michelin Guide had come entirely under the control of industry professionals.

The second vital development concerns Michelin’s corporate structure. Michelin was founded in 1889 as a tire company by the brothers Édouard and André Michelin. It was a closed, family-owned enterprise. Shortly after World War II, it went public on the Paris Stock Exchange under the name “Manufacture Michelin.” Over time, family members aged, and control passed to professional managers. Today, while the family still holds shares, it no longer exercises managerial control. Michelin is publicly traded on Euronext Paris under the ticker symbol ML/MICP.

As you can see, this is a typical story: a patrimonial, family-dominated corporation of the national capitalist era before globalization, followed —especially from the 1980s and even more so after the 2000s— by a multinational, professionally managed corporation of the neoliberal globalization era.

Submission to Market Forces

The structural changes in the economy and their impacts on the parent company led to an existential crisis which transformed the Red Guide. The appearance of the guide was left intact but beyond this formal continuity with the past we witnessed radical changes. Foremost among the changes was a re-definition of the vision and the mission of the guide. If we were to summarize it in a single sentence, we would say this: during the national capitalist era, Michelin addressed an elite palate shaped by inherited culinary manners and traditions. In the era of globalization, the multinational Michelin emphasizes the technically oriented training and professional norms of its inspectors, while also responding to the expectations of the market, and the average restaurant customer.

Let us elaborate on this.

In the old days, the rules were clear. Classical French cuisine was codified. The palates of amateur inspectors were shaped from childhood through learning and internalizing these rules. They might not know the difference between a great and mediocre cha ca la vong, but when it came to lobster Thermidor or lièvre à la royale (royal hare), they were not easily fooled. They judged the cuisine of the French court with authority. External approval mattered little. Michelin was not a public company. The inspectors shared tastes broadly like those of the Michelin family. They were all representatives of the same culture and tradition, carrying the banner of classical French cuisine. Restaurants that best embodied these norms were awarded one, two, or three stars. Earning three stars was no easy task. Popularity or mass appeal was not a criterion. The only measure was what was on the plate—and the education, culture, and signature dishes of the chef behind it.

Many legendary figures emerged during this period: Fernand Point, Frédy Girardet, Alain Chapel, Pierre Troisgros, Paul Bocuse, and others. These chefs shared a common trait: they did not serve tasting menus but rather traditional à la carte menus with choices—starter, main course, perhaps cheese and dessert. But what dishes were they! Long after the meal the taste lingered in both memory and palate.

I still remember dishes such as “Lobster Belle Aurore” by Louis Outhier of L’Oasis, “Pigeon cooked en vessie” by Alain Chapel, “L’Agneau Pastorale” by Joel Robuchon, “Truffle Ravioli and Passion Fruit Souffle” by Freddy Girardet, “Sweetbreads and Crisp Pig’s Ear with red wine and truffle sauce” by Pierre-Michel Troisgros, “Canard Apicius” by Alain Senderens, “Whole turbot with vin jaune” by Alain Passard, “Wild Game pithivier” by Bernard Pacaud, etc. Unfortunately, such dishes rarely exist today in their pristine forms without shortcuts. The reasons for their disappearance are too many to discuss but we should note that Michelin guide welcomed and spearheaded the modern trends-which were basically imported from Japanese traditions of omakase and kaiseki meals- such as long tasting menus and small portions.

Welcoming and spearheading the new trends was part of Michelin’s new vision and its about-turn to markets. The guide obviously faced new challenges in the global era.

The first challenge was this: they were now evaluating radically different cuisines. Criteria specific to French cuisine no longer applied. So, what should have taken precedence? The second challenge was different but equally important. The company was now publicly traded. The guide must have stood on its own financially. The tastes of a small minority—elite French bourgeois diners—no longer appealed to the majority, not even within France, let alone worldwide. So how does one solve these problems?

A solution emerged. Financially it was clear that the guide needed sponsors. There would be a monetized price to pay if a new country or region wanted to bring the guide inside its borders.

But how could the inspectors whose taste buds developed in radically different cultural-gastronomic contexts evaluate these new national cuisines? Broadly speaking, three characteristics come to the forefront in restaurants that earned stars in unfamiliar contexts: TECHNIQUE, TASTING MENUS, and PRESENTATION. Of course, this transformation did not happen overnight. There was no single, clear rupture where one could say, “This was it!” Rather, these features gradually took shape through economic and socio-cultural changes and the preferences of those in charge.

Loss of Independence

While discussing Michelin’s commercialization, one of its largest revenue streams -“Destination Marketing Agreements”—is generally overlooked. Michelin now operates not only in markets where it sells tires, but also in cities whose tourism ministries or development agencies pay “guide publication fees” (Istanbul, Florida, Dubai, etc.). This “who pays the piper calls the tune” model has long been the modus operandi of the red guide.

Turkey offers a clear example. With the arrival of the Michelin Guide, we have witnessed that evaluations were made in an overly hasty way containing many contradictions, misjudgments and omissions. It looked like Michelin’s purpose in Turkey was to please the donor and uphold its priorities, rather than upholding its disputable standards. A full discussion of the shortcomings in the Turkish guide will warrant another article but let us claim that, in Paris, there are many restaurants which are not even in the guide but are much better than almost all but one of the starred restaurants in Istanbul. Conversely some good restaurants such as Nazende and Fauna and Basta Bistro did not receive one star.

This is not accidental. We have witnessed many times that star system across countries does not give an idea about the intrinsic food quality. It is like the GPA of students across universities. University professors’ grade use an explicit or implicit curve. You always give some As and maybe one A+ to best students, but an A+ in university x in one country may receive a B or less, in a university in another country.

But at least most professors accord grades according to scholarly criteria. Old Michelin did the same but when the Tourism ministry Turkey, has invited the new Michelin and funded its operations, the Ministry is believed to have negotiated the number of the stars they expected (we believe it was also stipulated that at least one restaurant should receive 2 stars). In addition, governments also pay if they want geographically increased coverage.

We don’t disagree with all this because stars attract gastrotourists from abroad and encourage many young chefs to excel. A star also attracts new investments in the gastronomy sector. These are all good but when Michelin accepts payments by government related agencies, the culinary standards of the Guide are necessarily compromised. Indeed, presently in Turkey, political and non-culinary concerns seem to be taking the upper hand over purely gastronomic ones.

The Standardization of Taste

Apart from the questionable practice of receiving free money from the hosts, the deeper problem of misjudgments by Michelin relates to the search for objective, measurable and universal criteria that are supposed to apply to all restaurants in very different national contexts. Michelin tries to standardize experience by positing, not unlike a radically positivist social scientist, that meals across national-cultural contexts are comparable along a continuum because the experience is measurable, exportable, and scalable. In today’s Michelin universe, three dominant criteria are formulated to measure and rank gastronomic performance:

Together, they form a universal language – one that travels easily from Paris to Tokyo, from Copenhagen to Dubai. A language that requires neither terroir nor cultural intimacy to be understood. This is not accidental. It is structural.

This shift happened gradually, without rupture, driven by economic, sociocultural and managerial forces.

Technique Over Product

Technique has become Michelin’s common denominator. Culinary schools now teach the same toolbox everywhere: spherification, gels, emulsions, espuma, sous-vide, liquid nitrogen, dehydration. These methods are codified, teachable, reproducible. They can be evaluated with relative objectivity.

We don’t want to be unfair. Molecular techniques were trends primarily between 2000 and 2015. Nowadays, Michelin increasingly rewards techniques associated with the “New Nordic” movement, such as fermentation, foraging, and open-fire cooking. Technical evaluation does encompass not only “laboratory food,” but also these “return-to-nature–looking yet highly advanced techniques.”

The consequence is obvious – a young inspector, professionally trained but with limited culinary memory can master this language perfectly. Technique does not require childhood, culture or lived experience. It does not require knowing what a dish once was – only how it is executed now. This makes technique one of the fastest, safest paths to Michelin recognition.

Not because it tastes better, but because it is easier to agree on.

The winners from technical evaluation are the restaurants that transform ingredients the most. Relatively simple applications of techniques-perhaps fewer steps-to highlight ingredients’ quality are recognized by Michelin, but in general product driven restaurants only receive one star. How else one can explain 3 stars to Arzak and Berasetegui but only one to Extebarri and none to d’Berto. (last 2 are arguably the pinnacle of best products). Similarly, how can Coutenceau receive 3 stars but L’Astrance only one?

The Tasting Menu Illusion

Are we really supposed to feel full after this? The question is heard everywhere on social media when one puts the photo of a dish in a 3-star restaurants.

But one should not eat to be full. This said when we complete degustation menus over 4 hours in multi-starred restaurants, we feel generally uncomfortable. Not because we eat little, but because we eat ten, twenty, sometimes thirty successive bites and too many sweets.

Tiny portions. Precise pairings. Colorful, photogenic dishes. The global amplification of the Spanish tapas and pintxos model together with the Japanese omakase meal format. The effect is immediate. You marvel. Yet, unlike a great Japanese omakase meal, little truly remains in memory.

This format suits Michelin perfectly. It allows chefs to display range, technique, creativity and control within a tightly managed narrative. It also aligns seamlessly with social media, destination dining, and experiential consumption.

But this format most suits the chefs. From an operational perspective, the tasting menu is in fact a powerful tool for inventory and cost control (food cost management). With à la carte menus, it is impossible to predict what customers will order, leading to significant waste. With a tasting menu, the chef knows exactly what everyone will eat that day, bringing waste close to zero. For corporatized restaurants, the shift to this format is not merely fashion, but a profitability necessity.

This market-driven economic necessity is further proof that the Michelin guide now submits to market forces rather than staying aloof and independent.

Theatre Over Cuisine

This may be the most decisive criterion today. Michelin says it prefers refinement to spectacle. In practice, the difference is often cosmetic. The intention is the same: to create an effect.

Plates arrive already thinking of themselves as an artwork. Ceramics are shaped like shells. A pinecone that turns out to be chocolate, hiding a peach mousse. Wagyu presented on skewers hangings from tree branches.

None of this is offensive. Much of it is clever. Some of it is even beautiful. But slowly, the dish stops being the center. The idea takes over. The ‘mise en scène’ comes first.

The plate becomes a picture. The table becomes a stage.

Some diners love it. They come precisely for this – surprise, disruption, the feeling of being somewhere special. Others begin to feel slightly displaced, as if the meal were happening around them rather than to them.

Emotion in such meals is rarely spontaneous. It is carefully constructed. Surprise is planned ahead of the time.

Nothing is left to chance. The problem is not excess. It is repetition.

When staging becomes expected, originality turns into a format. And when everything tries to astonish, very little truly moves you. That’s the moment when gastronomy quietly loses its balance.

Of course, one can claim that the new generation of consumers pays these prices not merely to eat, but to purchase a “story” they can share digitally. The transformation of the plate into a canvas stems less from flavor and more from the desire to be Instagrammable.

Yet the disturbing issue is the same as the preceding one: Michelin is no longer trying to safeguard culinary excellence. On the contrary, Michelin is now part of the market driven experience economy.

Fading Authority in France

We talked about compromises which resulted in the loss of independence for the Guide but as far as we know Michelin is not financed by the French government. It is true that, for decades, Michelin was not questioned in its mother country. It defined excellence. Chefs cooked with the guide in mind, diners trusted it blindly, and a star could make or break a career. Today, that authority is no longer absolute.

Among professionals, Michelin is increasingly perceived as rigid, opaque, and disconnected from the daily realities of the kitchen. Among diners, it is often seen as predictable, overly formal, and obsessed with a certain idea of luxury that no longer reflects how many French people actually eat.

The guide still matters, but it no longer inspires consensus. Several prominent French chefs have voluntarily left the Michelin system. Not out of provocation, but out of frustration.

Michel Bras was the first major rupture. In 2017, he asked Michelin to remove his restaurant Le Suquet from the guide. His reason was simple – the pressure of constant inspection was incompatible with creative freedom. Cooking had become too defensive.

Alain Senderens, long before that, had already questioned the model. Giving away his three stars and transforming Lucas Carton into a more accessible restaurant, he openly challenged the equation between excellence and luxury. His message was clear: great cuisine does not require theatrical excess or inflated prices.

Marc Veyrat represents another form of rupture, more violent, more public. His conflict with Michelin guide exposed what many chefs whisper privately: a mistrust of the guide’s tasting process, its criteria, and its authority to judge creativity through standardized frameworks.

The Last Survivors

In 2025, Michelin counts 157 three-star restaurants, 674 two-star, and more than 3000 one-star establishments worldwide. 90% of these restaurants have eliminated a la carte dining option.

The landscape is clear now. Restaurants that adopt the 3 dominant codes (techniques, long tasting menus and controlled staging) almost guarantee themselves recognition. The rules are known. The system is stable.

However, a few places still resist. They are often the ones we admire most. No tasting menu. One dish refined over years. No theatre.

They survive because they belong to another time – crowned in the 1980s or earlier, when Michelin still rewarded depth more than format. Sometimes the guide waits politely for retirement or death before adjusting the score. Sometimes demotion comes earlier, even while the chef is still cooking.

If you want spectacle today, Michelin delivers it very well. Three stars often mean postmodern gastronomy at its most accomplished. Or you go to Alchemist in Copenhagen: a two-star restaurant, total immersion. You may not remember what you ate. You go through a semi worship-semi ritual process designed to satisfy the chef’s ego. Undisputably patronizing. Guests are subtly scolded for eating well as they are bombarded with environmental problems, sustainability issues, and ethical concerns that they are assumed to be oblivious of. Despite all, most guests pay dearly for the dinner that lasts 6 hours. They will certainly remember the experience – especially the size of the bill.

An Unsustainable Model

Early Michelin was inarguably an “elitist” gastronomic guide. Here we are using the concept of elitism in the sense that Michelin’s attempt was to protect gastronomic standards, identify and reward excellence and, above all, recognize excellence independent of popularity and power.

These days are long gone. Internationalization of the parent company, market driven pressures to self-finance operations of the red guide, entailed concessions from absolute gastronomic standards, and required sensitivity to popular trends and demands. The rise of celebrity chefs who emerged as the CEOs of multinational corporations, -and are rarely in the kitchen- and the purchase of many restaurants by billionaire oligarchs, severely undermined Michelin’s insulation from power relations.

The guide wavered and struggled to adapt. Some of the changes are salutary. For instance, Michelin awarding stars to street food vendors (hawker stalls) in Singapore or tapas bars in Donostia, constitutes a strategic exception to the claim that stars are given only for spectacle and presentation.

In recent years, the Michelin Guide has also prominently highlighted the “Green Star” (Sustainability) award to deflect accusations of elitism. Unfortunately, this new development was criticized for being insincere. Critics highlighted the contradiction of restaurants that fly wagyu beef from Japan while claiming environmental responsibility. It looked like what mattered most was the spectacle aspect of dining and public perceptions rather than high principles.

There is also an ironic side to sustainability. The very restaurant model we criticized — tasting-menu-only, labor-intensive, highly technical fine dining — is economically collapsing. Noma, repeatedly named the world’s best restaurant, announced its closure by openly stating: “This model is unsustainable; we cannot pay our staff properly, and the system relies on intern exploitation.” In other words, our claim that “this has gone too far” has been validated not only in terms of flavor, but also from a human and economic perspective.

So, it looks like Michelin’s increasing submission to the demands of globalized market forces and prevailing power relations in the restaurant sector may end up destroying the very high end 3-star restaurant model that they helped to create and we criticized in this article.