Those of you who give a toss may already know that the 2009 Michelin list was leaked over the weekend.
The Guardian website's food section has enjoyed this, with heavyweights Jay Rayner and Matthew Fort (Oh, and Tim Hayward, with his pet Otaku) chipping in column inches. Much of the debate centres around whether or not the whole Michelin star system is meaningful, or useful, or too French.
I've had the privilege to eat at a couple of Michelin star places: Midsummer House in Cambridge (two stars) and Martin Berasategui's Kursaal Restaurant in San Sebastian (one star). While I enjoyed the food - the excellent food, and of course the company of Mrs Jiffler, neither restaurant left me feeling like I'd had some sort of epiphany. We ate excellently cooked, slightly Frenchified food in an inoffensive environment (although the waiting staff at Midsummer House were a bunch of ballsacks). That is all.
An aging colleague once advised me that the best way to eat a mango was "in the shower with a beautiful woman". Good advice, but I'll settle for eating one underneath a tree in the tropics, scooping out the flesh with a penknife. There is no way any chef, not even Gordon Ramsay (what is it with ballsacks?), is going to improve on that.
This is probably why the Michelin system doesn't make sense in the UK, or for that matter, much of the rest of the world. It represents something which, while held aloft as the pinnacle of refinement, has actually become something of a tired culinary backwater. It is hard to access because it's expensive, narrow in its predominantly French stylings, and has a somewhat formal and beige atmosphere. Status symbol eating for wealthy bankers - and we all know by now that they've got no idea what they're on about.
The exceptions prove the rule - St John received its first star this year for its robust, masculine British cooking. Yet critics and other chefs have been salivating over St John for a decade. The Fat Duck in Bray has three stars, but I think we'd all know about Heston Blumenthal's kitchen magic without Michelin's acknowledgement.
Most restaurants in Britain, and indeed the rest of the world, don't conform to Michelin's boring standards. Think of all the great Chinese restaurants, grubby little curry cafes, Turkish grills, bowls of pho, fish suppers, and mangoes eaten under trees that transcend anything in the Michelin guide. It is here where you'll find energy, excitement, and FUN.
The Guardian website's food section has enjoyed this, with heavyweights Jay Rayner and Matthew Fort (Oh, and Tim Hayward, with his pet Otaku) chipping in column inches. Much of the debate centres around whether or not the whole Michelin star system is meaningful, or useful, or too French.
I've had the privilege to eat at a couple of Michelin star places: Midsummer House in Cambridge (two stars) and Martin Berasategui's Kursaal Restaurant in San Sebastian (one star). While I enjoyed the food - the excellent food, and of course the company of Mrs Jiffler, neither restaurant left me feeling like I'd had some sort of epiphany. We ate excellently cooked, slightly Frenchified food in an inoffensive environment (although the waiting staff at Midsummer House were a bunch of ballsacks). That is all.
An aging colleague once advised me that the best way to eat a mango was "in the shower with a beautiful woman". Good advice, but I'll settle for eating one underneath a tree in the tropics, scooping out the flesh with a penknife. There is no way any chef, not even Gordon Ramsay (what is it with ballsacks?), is going to improve on that.
This is probably why the Michelin system doesn't make sense in the UK, or for that matter, much of the rest of the world. It represents something which, while held aloft as the pinnacle of refinement, has actually become something of a tired culinary backwater. It is hard to access because it's expensive, narrow in its predominantly French stylings, and has a somewhat formal and beige atmosphere. Status symbol eating for wealthy bankers - and we all know by now that they've got no idea what they're on about.
The exceptions prove the rule - St John received its first star this year for its robust, masculine British cooking. Yet critics and other chefs have been salivating over St John for a decade. The Fat Duck in Bray has three stars, but I think we'd all know about Heston Blumenthal's kitchen magic without Michelin's acknowledgement.
Most restaurants in Britain, and indeed the rest of the world, don't conform to Michelin's boring standards. Think of all the great Chinese restaurants, grubby little curry cafes, Turkish grills, bowls of pho, fish suppers, and mangoes eaten under trees that transcend anything in the Michelin guide. It is here where you'll find energy, excitement, and FUN.
No comments:
Post a Comment