The Michelin brothers started making rubber tyres in 1899 when there were less than 2000 automobiles in France.  In order to encourage car drivers to get out more (and to wear out their tyres faster), every purchase of Michelin tyres came with a free guidebook.  Initially, it consisted of a range of travel tips – road maps, repairing your car, how to start it in cold weather, etc.  It also included a guide of good places to eat around Paris.  In 1920, just as driving was really catching on after the war, one of the brothers noted one of their guides being used to level up a workshop bench.  He immediately went back to the printers and from that day onwards all guides cost seven francs.  And from that day onwards, sales of the Guide (and the brothers’ tyres) boomed – the Michelin Guide had to be paid for. Therefore, it had value!

Michelin hats (toques) are like gold to a restauranteur.  The inspectors ALWAYS travel incognito for the first visit and rarely alone. The restaurant is booked at least twice by different teams if it is judged good enough to be awarded a hat, and only the food is graded, neither the decor nor the service can contribute to the rating.  There is a famous tale from the 1970s of a cat being partly responsible for a Michelin hat.

The story goes that a chef in a small town somehow heard rumours that two inspectors were arriving for a second visit to his establishment.  He became anxious, and of course, the night was an absolute disaster.  His timing was off. He had an argument with his wife, so she left and went home. He was frustrated and yelled at his staff – he even kicked his beloved cat that always hung around him in the kitchen.  (A Fawlty Towers episode was partly based on this story). At the end of the evening, the chef realised that any chance of a Michelin toque had gone – but he could at least make it up with his cat.  He promised her that he would prepare a special meal with a secret recipe – it would be just for the two of them to eat, and the recipe would be one that he would never share. With one chicken and the remainder of the ingredients leftover, he set about cooking this meal for himself and his precious moggie.

Just as it was about to be plated, a dishevelled couple arrived.  They knew they had missed their booking, they knew that the kitchen was closed, but they begged to be able to purchase some food. The chef explained he only had one cooked chicken and some vegetables left – but they could share this with him and his pet cat. They were overwhelmed by the quality of their simple meal.  After paying, one of the patrons revealed that she was a Michelin inspector, this was the company’s second visit to his place, and that she would gladly pay money to obtain the recipe for the meal they had just eaten.  The chef refused.  She offered to award him a second hat in her review in exchange for even just a list of ingredients.  The chef refused, explaining he had made a promise to his faithful cat to keep the recipe secret – and he had to keep that vow. So the visitors left to return to Paris without finding out how this special dish was prepared. In the next Guide, the chef was awarded a single toque – he could have had two if the chef had inulged the secret ingredient in his chicken creation – it was cat-mint, of course!

Many years ago,  the Cunnington-Smythe family dined at a Michelin-hatted restaurant in Budapest – a wonderful experience indeed. Now, post-Covid, one needs to book months in advance for a seat at any eatery that is awarded a gong in the latest Michelin Guide.  However, as a service to my three followers, I promise that I will continue to research local places to eat – just in case one of you makes it to this wonderful food city in the future.  Such is my willingness to sacrifice my own time and money finding good tucker for my readers!

Tomorrow – Avignon.  I just want to see that bridge – and check out their food of course….

F C-S