Autumn is the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, and the first crop of restaurant guides. Hardens, Zagat and the Good Food Guide are like new potatoes, ready sometime before the maincrop Michelin that we get only in the New year. This is not a bad analogy, for while the first three guides have their place, none of them is, or would pretend to be, as nourishing and full as the Michelin Red Guide to Great Britain and Ireland. On the other hand, the Hardens, Zagat and Good Food Guides are not as starchy as Michelin either.
The essential difference is that the Wee Three (as we’ll call them collectively in opposition to Fat Mich) are aggregates of the opinions of their readers, whereas the Michelin is based exclusively on the assessments of paid inspectors. The Three would say that many mouths are better than one; Michelin would say that their professionalism makes them paramount.
There is, of course, something to be said on each side of the soup plate. Those who take the trouble to report to Hardens, Zagat or the GFG are self-selected. The upside of this is that nearly one hundred per cent of these volunteer reporters are genuine foodies. The downside is that there’s no way to test their qualifications or judgement; and that it’s not always possible to detect the sound of axes being ground. Mind you, if a customer takes the trouble to write a negative report about a particular meal or even about a restaurant in general, there’s usually a good reason why he or she bothers. Very few people will take pains to fill in one of Hardens’ or Zagat’s surveys because he’s from a competing eatery and hopes a disparaging review of another beanery will put him higher up the food-chain; and in my experience few gripes about service or food are ever merely sour grapes. Those who go to the effort of complaining in writing usually have a solid-food (or poor service) basis for their belly-aching.
But that’s only the negative side. What qualifies these amateur eaters to give merit awards to restaurants? Easy-peasy: almost all the customers of almost all the restaurants in almost all the world are amateur eaters. It’s just that most of them aren’t motivated to contribute their experiences to restaurant guides. Nonetheless, so the argument goes, we can rely on the palates and judgement of those who fill in the forms, because in all essential respects, they’re just like you and me (well, not like me exactly, as they’re not chefs). When they go out for a meal they want good food, good drink, competent and friendly service and a pleasing ambience – and all at the appropriate price. Since we’re all in pursuit of the same general sort of lunch or dinner, it shouldn’t matter too much if I differ from you about some of the details. Of course not all our readers apply the same standards, when judging cooking, presentation, their surroundings or even service. But it all evens out because of the numbers involved.
Up to a point, says Fat Mich. Averaging out your self-selected readers’ opinions is fine, if enough of them take the trouble to report to you. But how many is enough to make their collective judgements valid? One or two is definitely not enough, is it? Ten? Twenty? A hundred? You see the problem. You’re never telling me that you have a hundred respondents for each place you rate? I bet you don’t have as many as twenty for most of the restaurants you include. Far better, isn’t it, to rely on our tried-and-tested, proper French Michelin star system, which is underpinned by a team of trained, professional inspectors, who all work to the same standards? When we say a restaurant merits our ultimate accolade of three stars, everybody knows exactly what that means.
Indeed, say the aggregators, we do know precisely what that means for a restaurant that serves French food, or food based on the principles of French cuisine. We know, absolument, that Michelin inspectors know their oignons. What worries us just a little is how well they know their sushi, their sambars, their si chuan pao cai*, or even their Italian sughi?
My personal opinion, for what it is worth, is that I never work or create a business in search of stars and accolades. These are a by-product of the work that you put into your food and restaurant and also the type of restaurant you have chosen. While it is always agreeable to receive recognition, I would never make it an explicit goal. I have seen too many young restaurateurs opening a business for all the wrong reasons: striving for stars can be very misguiding; the only goals we should strive for are excellence and high standards.
Both in Le Manoir or Brasserie Blanc we work to the best standards for their own sake; we aim to give our guests the very best experience, and to maintain a viable and successful business.
*Sichuan pickled root vegetables
