eating · 2026-01-09

Floors and Ceilings - Michelin Stars and Stories

Note: Any reference to a restaurant alongside physical stars on this page are in BLSM units, not Michelin units.

What better way to kick off the posts in this section than by humbly bragging about all the Michelin star food I have had. I could write this article without specifically covering places I have been, but it wouldn't be half as good. Please reserve judgment on this until you have finished the piece, but discussing "Michelin stars" is one of the most common topics that comes up for me when talking about restaurant-going more as a concept and less as commentary on a given restaurant. When people talk about what going out to eat means to them - even those people who are especially interested in the hobby - you can generally bucket them into two simple categories: people who don't care for the "fine dining" lean that Michelin tends to favor and people who do care. In there somewhere are a lot of talking points about picky eaters, status chasers, affordability, and more. I'll cover some of that here, but not in much detail.

Michelin *Stars*

It is worth noting that not all places rated or reviewed by Michelin can be categorized as 1, 2, or 3 stars. Of course, the Michelin star is Michelin's main differentiator in food review, but they also have a "Bib Gourmand" section, simply defined as "good quality, good value cooking," as well as a "Selected Restaurants" section, defined even more simply as "good cooking." It is an important point, mostly because the places in the Bib Gourmand and Selected Restaurants categories are usually the good and great restaurants that come up in conversations more frequently when people discuss dining in any place where Michelin reviews restaurants and those with stars tend to be the stereotyped fine dining, experimental eateries. Covering Michelin's Bib Gourmand rating methodology is not particularly interesting to me, and frankly, has nothing to do with the purpose of this piece, so we will focus on the stars.

If you read the eating "manifesto," you will find a bit of writing about my time in New York, how and why I spent so much time and effort looking for places to go, and how dining in New York shaped my affection for and understanding of restaurants. Without repeating myself too much, I was in a new city with only so many new friends and frequently unsure of how to spend my time outside of work. I knew I liked food, though, and I had heard the city had some decent offerings. Deciding where to eat was an obvious first step. And that first step was probably the most time consuming part of this journey. How was I to know which recommendations to trust, which restaurant review websites were legit, what was popular and good vs what was just popular, etc.? You could go practically anywhere for any type of food in New York, and the concept of making this a huge part of my social life terrified me. What if I spend thousands of dollars exploring restaurants in the city by just winging it? I could skip that step and lean on general internet reviews and shitty blogs like this, but who are these people to know? Did they pass some sort of special palette test? Sites popped up that seemed exclusively geared toward reviewing restaurants with ratings and commentary that demonstrated some level of thoughtfulness, but again, I couldn't figure what made Joe Food Consumer special. (In time, I learned that Joe Food Consumer and his friends did pass a special palette test, and the test was simply trying and experiencing more shit than anyone else and comparing it to all the other shit, but I didn't know this at the time. Frankly, I think my level of ignorance was incredibly rewarding, and I'm not certain I would have the same concept and understanding of the entire restaurant industry without it). Of course, in all my reading, I read about Michelin-starred restaurants, too. Though I still had no idea what the fuck any of it meant, this seemed marginally more legit, even when accounting for the fact that the reviewers were unknown and the reviews were associated with a tire company. Most notably, I was intrigued by how people talked about these restaurants, the clear celebrity of the chefs, the glitz, the glam, and admittedly (or embarrassingly) the price associated with them. These might not be my cup of tea, but surely the food must at least be good and I must prefer to spend more to eliminate the risk of spending anything at all for food that isn't, right?

Le Floor

Surely the food must at least be good and I must prefer to spend more to eliminate the risk of spending anything at all for food that isn't, right? Pretty much, yeah. In my head, this naturally felt like "the Michelin floor." My personal familiarity with the concept of something's "floor" or "ceiling" comes primarily from my consumption of sports. People use these fucking phrases all the time. "He's got a much higher ceiling, but his floor is pretty low." Or, "he's got a high floor but a low ceiling." More fancy than saying "he might suck ass, but he could be really good." Easy enough of a concept to grasp, and I assume it doesn't need much of an explanation. As far as Michelin star dining goes, it's not particularly complex either. The main question and answer here just about say it perfectly. But I started this blog so I could bore you to death with my own elaborate explanation of this bullshit. Cooking at these restaurants can't be every chef's dream, but you probably don't cook at one because you crushed an interview. Now, the ratio of chefs who want to cook at or own a Michelin star restaurant instead of the alternative must be far lower than the same for people who aspire to be professional athletes. (You never hear some dude say, "the pros are legit, but I much prefer to play minor league ball," unless they don't want to admit they suck or they are in year 8 of getting NIL money better than any pro contract they could get). You don't just stumble upon cooking at one by bringing your blog to the restaurant to show them how much you love food. You probably aren't cooking at one just because you used to make dinner with your Mom growing up. You are, more likely than not, cooking at one because you spent years training to cook, asking and answering the "why" through those experiences, and then you spent an inordinate amount of time doing it under the leadership of other people who did the same and eventually as a leader.

Jeju Noodle Bar ()

One of my funnier experiences at a Michelin restaurant was sitting at the chef's counter / bar / whatever you want to call it, enjoying a nice bowl of ramen. When I sat down, there was a chef standing directly in front of me, and about 5 minutes after sitting down, I realized that was where he was going to stay. That was his station, and at his station, his job was to pluck the leaves off the cilantro. With tweezers. That's all this dude did for the hour or more that I was there. Let a motherfucker get a stem in their ramen, see what happens. Anyway, I found this to be both an affront to all that I thought about cooks and somewhat redeeming. Here I was worshipping these people, daydreaming about one day leaving my cubicle to create masterpieces in the kitchen, only to realize that this guy was no less a kitchen monkey than I was an Excel monkey. His tool was the tweezers, and mine was the keyboard. That guy may have even been a stagier, which is just restaurant for unpaid internship.

And therein lies the floor. There is no question that the food is being made by people who excel at cooking it, but there is also an inspiring attention to detail. And that attention to detail holds true of the entire meal - food, service, and otherwise - from the moment you walk in the door. Knowing that you are going to have very good food, be well taken care of, get in and out on a schedule, and generally have your experience maximized by those people responsible for providing it is meaningful. Whether that is a cause or an effect of the Michelin star(s), my experience has been that the outcome is usually the same. Food and an experience that you rarely regret spending your time and money on.

Exceptions to every rule

Having this breakdown is in direct contradiction to the concept of a floor, something something nuance.

Pollen Street Social ()

Funny enough, as I looked up this place to remind myself how many stars it had, I found out that it is permanently closed. I went there in 2023 on a solo trip to London, much of that trip centered around the food, and frankly, I left a bit baffled. It was the first Michelin-starred restaurant that I was certain I didn't like from top to bottom. I tried to convince myself that this could have been related to me having realized on my way there that I'd lost my passport, but try as I might, I couldn't convince myself that played much of a role. The food felt like every non-English person's criticism of British food but if you tried to elevate it. I was dining solo, so I sat in a similar setup to how I sat at Jeju Noodle Bar, at a chef's counter of sorts. I might've shared 10 words with the chef delivering me the food, and I can barely remember if I even had a waiter or waitress. There were a couple of times where I looked around to see if it was just the staff or if the other patrons couldn't see me either. I am a nobody, and I certainly don't pretend that my dining at a Michelin star restaurant warrants my being treated like I am a somebody, but many of these places are great because for a few hours, you really do feel that important. In fact, it felt like the opposite, that they "knew" their food was legit, and it was my honor to even be eating it.

Pujol ()

Pujol was a bit of a letdown in a different way. I visited Mexico City with a friend of mine a few months after my trip to London, and this was the main event when we had planned the trip. I had seen it recommended for many years, I had been to Mexico City a few times and never gone, and I was incredibly excited to finally get the chance. It had and I believe still has 2 Michelin stars, so we were going to a place a new level above the vast majority of the Michelin-starred restaurants I had been to. I don't have any particular complaints about the service or experience, certainly nothing like that of Pollen Street Social, but it also didn't stand out to me in any spectacular way. The sad truth is that Pujol fell short of my expectations of the food. Most of the food just didn't elicit the flavor profile, the level of surprise, the impressiveness, or even general thought-provocation that I had experienced elsewhere. Their famous mole madre was no different, only made worse by the fact that it felt more like a gimmick. They've been aging it for over a decade now, and ours was aged for 2,700 days or something at the time. Which, hell yeah, that is cool. But, as they say, just because you can do something doesn't mean you should. The 'gimmick' really only acts as a multiplier. On its own, it's worth nothing, but if the food is truly great, it can make that feat all the more impressive. For me, the food itself doesn't even need to be that special. The bar is "a good fucking mole." I don't care that someone might suggest you could replicate the quality of mole without the aging; I simply need it to be good to be moved by the process. This wasn't any of that, though, it was mostly just fine.

Le Ceiling

Look, having a "high floor" is fine, but it's not that big of a selling point. It was great for me, particularly in my exploratory phase, but it's not going to move someone much who has mostly figured out how to find good food around them. The real value of these places comes from their ceiling. If you go to enough of them, you will consistently experience some of the best food you have had in your life. Even more, that food - or at least how the ingredients make it up and the manner in which it is provided - will be relatively new to you, no matter how many of these places you go to. Is that valuable on its own? Nah, not really, but again, the food is really fucking good.

How we think about the ceiling itself is somewhat context dependent. Michelin doles out 2 and 3 stars primarily to restaurants doing tasting menus, the stuff more commonly thought of as "fine dining." There are plenty of 1 star restaurants that would fall into the same bucket, but there are plenty that wouldn't. Though the simple distinction of great, interesting food and a wonderful experience remains the same, the appeal of the Michelin restaurant offering an a la carte menu differs meaningfully from those offering the tasting menu. The a la carte restaurant offers you food that you can relate to and understand but more complex, more interesting, and frankly, better than you remember foods like that tasting. These are the gems.

The gems...
Tuome ()

My favorite restaurant in the world. A small, quaint restaurant all the way past Avenue A in the East Village of New York City. This menu is incredibly simple, with something like 4-5 appetizers, 4-5 mains, and a few sides. Some dishes that are less common (quail, octopus), and a bunch that are more familiar (chicken, lamb). The snow crab - which is a pasta - is one of the best things I have personally consumed. Unbelievably simple and overwhelmingly good. Beyond my personal enjoyment of the food, though, everything is cooked perfectly. All the same standards apply to the service, but it's quieter, more relatable, and a little less in your face. I believe that they don't list the beignets for dessert anymore, but you can still order them, and you should. This is excellence in simplicity at its finest.

Estela ()

Eerily similar to the feeling you would get at Tuome, but a tad more modern. The ricotta dumplings are famous for a reason. The first time I had the endive here I couldn't believe that something green could taste so good. I remember going home and convincing myself that I had to eat more endive. Turns out it was never that simple. The cured tuna, beef tartare, and fried arroz negro are all fantastic, as well. I can't say much more about it than to mimic my thoughts on Tuome. I am simply more fond of Tuome, and the food there achieves the same level of success with a tad more simplicity.

Casa Mono ()

Similar, but a Spanish flare. This was my first experience with foie gras, and I was blown away. I assumed this was just a foie gras thing, but I have had many prepared much worse. I won't pretend that it is a food for everyone, but I will definitely be the asshole who insists "you just haven't had it prepared right yet." If you can't dine at places co-founded by people accused of sexual misconduct, unfortunately this place won't be for you, and I have terrible news for you about the industry in general. I can't put in writing that you should look past that, but the food really is excellent.

Sepia (), Galit (), Rose's Luxury ()

It would be a bit dishonest to consider these restaurants "a la carte," as they offer what is more commonly referred to as prix fixe menus. That said, it makes no sense to differentiate them for the purposes of this exercise. Sepia is one of the more underrated restaurants in Chicago. You rarely hear people talking about it, but the food is excellent and simple, like these others. Galit - another Chicago restaurant - has a menu that will feel slightly less relatable depending on your familiarity with Mediterranean food, but it's great, nothing more to say. Rose's Luxury in Washington D.C. gave me Tuome and Estela vibes, but for slightly different reasons. The restaurant is small and dense like those, the food itself relatable, but the menu is a bit more playful. We got a take home cacio e pepe kit, and they brought us an additional 'free' dish from the kitchen from one of the options that we didn't order. One of the funnier - and dumber - things I have done was leave that restaurant and tell my fiancée how nice it was they did those things for us before she kindly reminded me that they did it for everyone. Mind you, I had been to my fair share of these at this point, so the concept of getting "free" shit like you were someone special throughout your meal was not new to me, but sometimes the vibe is good enough that they can dupe even the most aware skeptics.

I have been to most of those restaurants at least a few times, partially because they are more affordable than your average Michelin-starred restaurant, but mostly - beyond all that I have said above - because they are incredibly approachable. The other side of the coin are the tasting menu restaurants, typically more extravagant, more involved, set eating times of 2 hours or more, far more expensive, and more likely to challenge your food preferences. These excel in the opposite way of the a la carte and prix fixe menus. Where those give you food for which you have a reference point, these give you food that you cannot even pretend to convince yourself you could have at home. Instead of, "I have never had chicken that good," you are more likely to say, "what the fuck did I just eat and why was it so good?" You might have to open your mind to new possibilities and you definitely have to close your eyes when you pay, but you will leave far more inquisitive about food than you came, time and time again.

Gems, but different
Le Bernardin ()

The best restaurant I have ever been to, precisely because if you ask me why, all I can really pinpoint is the feeling when it ended. This was my first foray into 3 Michelin star dining, so I had no idea what to expect. There was admittedly some fear that I would hate the concept and not even like the food. I could not have been more wrong. The service was the kind of excellent that you never realize how good it is until you finish. The timing of the interactions with the wait staff never forced or overwhelming, but never once making you look up to see if one is around. The dishes were incredibly simple relative to what I expected. A little fish and a great fucking sauce. Just over and over again. One of the most notable memories of eating there was the realized "cleanliness" of the food. I had been there for a few hours, eating quite a few dishes, and I knew I was full by the end. But I didn't feel full in the way I feel after polishing off the last soft taco after a chicken quesadilla and cheesy gordita crunch. I just felt...content. Definitely not hungry, but also not needing to lay down for a few hours. I'd be remiss not to mention that this meal is less "gimmicky" than your average 2 or 3 star restaurant and part of why it is even easier to leave impressed.

Kiin Kiin (), BiBi ()

Where Pujol failed, these places excelled. Much of the Michelin guide is biased toward French food and French cooking, but some of these places are using the latter to elevate food from different cultures. After eating at Pujol, I wondered if my perception of Mexican food - typically a great bargain for flavorful food - was preventing me from appreciating it in its elevated form. Dining at these two places assured me otherwise. Kiin Kiin is a Thai restaurant in Copenhagen, and I went by myself on Valentine's Day. I got some heart-shaped desserts at the end and one of the women serving me said, "no woman, no cry." More relevant, I couldn't believe how I was tasting familiar Thai flavors in entirely new forms. Opposite of that mole madre I spoke about, Kiin Kiin elevated the food and the experience without forcing me to ask, "is this necessary?" Although not quite as overwhelmingly good, BiBi - a London restaurant - evoked a similar feeling, this time with Indian food. The funniest part of my experience at BiBi was when the hostess told me that I looked familiar and asked if I had been there before. I had never even been to London before that trip, but on the heels of my experience at Pollen Street Social, it made me feel warm, even knowing that might have been part of her job description.

Quintonil ()

The Mexico City restaurant worthy of their 2 stars. It may have had an effect that I went a day after going to Pujol, and I excluded this from the direct examples above because it would be a bit dishonest to describe the flavors as particularly Mexican. No interesting stories, but relatable feelings to those in this space, and most importantly, unbelievable food.

Oriole ()

They should really have 3 stars. I would be broke if I went to most of these places more than once, but I have been to Oriole twice, and it was incredible both times. The experience is a tad more involved than at Le Bernardin, starting you with a seat at a little bar top (and a taste of one of their non-alcoholic juice-like things that make you wonder if you should make fancy juice at home instead of drinking wine every night), transitioning you to an open kitchen, then eventually guiding you to your table. The bite at the kitchen counter had me making extremely inappropriate sounds around the other guests, a small little concoction of foie gras and blueberry stuff and whatever else that I just can't get over. Like Le Bernardin, they have some simple dishes where the sauce really excels, but a few more where you are wondering how you could taste so many different flavors in such a small bite. They let my fiancée keep one of the tiny spoons she was infatuated with, so obviously she left happy, as well.

What This Is Not

I couldn't write this piece without covering some topics about what it is not meant to represent. If you are a picky eater, either don't go or focus on those with an a la carte or prix fixe menu that you are aware of in advance. I'm not going to try and sell you on the concept of eating an expensive dinner filled with stuff that makes you uncomfortable. Obviously, you should grow up, but I'm not stupid enough to hope that this food changes your mind about a lifelong fear of peas or some shit.

Boka ()

I went here with a lifelong friend of mine a few years ago, a guy who consistently says "I just don't like fish," but nonetheless loved the idea of us going to a tasting menu restaurant that based a few of the larger dishes around...fish. This may have been the best value Michelin meal I have had, if only because I kept getting dishes of his that he wasn't comfortable eating. Far be it from me to explain to him how he should spend his money, and it seemed like the wine pairings and the sommelier pouring them through one of those devices that allows you to pour without uncorking made it all worthwhile for him.

This is also not a piece to suggest that these will be the best value restaurants you experience after adjusting for price. For me, in some ways they are and in others they are not. I have absolutely no interest in getting into a discussion about the value of a Michelin-starred restaurant as compared with the place in the hills of Italy where someone once got a pasta, a steak, two glasses of wine, and free limoncello shots from the owner, all for 31 USD. Those places are incredible, and finding them is like discovering oil underneath your land, but there doesn't exist a singular guide for those places. You know why? Because if there did, they wouldn't cost 31 dollars anymore.

Jenni's Quesadillas ()

Not a Michelin-starred restaurant, but fuck, if they're giving them to street taco vendors in Mexico City now, they sure as shit should be giving them to Jenni. This is the best food for its price that I have ever had. My first time in Mexico City was with a group of my friends, and one of the guys with me suggested we go here. He had mentioned that he read about it being added to Google Maps only after someone discovered it and made sure it got added. Shout out not being a gatekeeping weirdo. I'm glad it found its way to me, or me to it. On a little street corner, throwing nixtamalized corn on a hot plate, and letting you load up your chicken tinga from an array of buckets of sauce. We got something like 6 of these at first, realized how good they were and that they cost about 4 USD total, then went back for about 6 more. Then again the next day.

Lastly, this is not a blind endorsement of the Michelin process or reviews. There is presumably as much political bullshit involved in them as any other organization on earth. Look no further than France, a country with something like 250 more restaurants with stars than the next closest country. Give me a fucking break.

Crown Shy ()

I first went here before they had a Michelin star, specifically because the chef had come from one of the other 3 star restaurants in NYC. The food was excellent, the vibe was cool, and I left and told my friends and coworkers that they would be getting a star that year, without a doubt. Sure enough, they did. Now, I'd like to convince myself that this is because the Michelin food reviewers and I just fucking get it, but the reality is that when a famous chef from a 3 star restaurant starts his own restaurant...Is it likely on merit alone, specifically because of that history? Absolutely. Is the framework maybe a wee bit flawed if not fairly predictable? Probably.

What This Is

It's a piece about my explorations of Michelin star dining and a point from which to view it. It's an opportunity to inspire folks to read these stories and give some of these places a try. I would be lying if I didn't also admit that this is an opportunity to perform my Curt Cignetti "look me up" moment. A way for me to give some credence to my reviews going forward and elaborate on how I contextualize eating. Some additional ratings below.

  • Smyth (): Had one of the most memorable nights of my life eating here with my Dad. It is now the only 3 star restaurant in Chicago after Alinea lost its star. I thought about including it in the "Gems, but different" section above, but I didn't have too much context to provide. Just phenomenal food, a notable appreciation of the wine despite being wholly unqualified to judge, and a cool way to introduce my Dad to something he would have never done otherwise. Below it is a restaurant called The Loyalist - by the same people - that serves my favorite burger in Chicago.

  • The Inn at Little Washington (): Probably saved by the experience of spending the night on the property, which is quiet and beautiful, but you just can't have a boutique water menu and give the fucking boutique water sommelier the night off. The food was very good but not exceptional. Michelin dropped them from 3 stars to 2 about 3 months after we went. Hate to say it, but makes sense.

  • Gramercy Tavern (): The dining room meal itself was underwhelming, and there was a level of disregard the wait staff seemed to pay us, probably because we were younger and poorer-looking than everyone else in there. One of the places where you can eat in the "tavern" itself, similar to The Modern's bar area concept, which I would recommend. There's a good bit of value in the a la carte offering for places whose dining room might have a star but where you can eat there in another way.

  • ONICE (): I went here the week that I celebrated my engagement in France. There's something about a husband and wife operation that just gets me going.

  • Indienne (): Less blown away by the elevation of Indian flavors than BiBi in London, but fantastic food. The lobster is worth adding, and it's a really reasonable price in this arena.

  • Mako (): I thought this had 2 stars at one point, but it appears to have 1 now. The sushi was good, but the whole thing left a little to be desired, especially after exploring more omakase-style restaurants since.

  • Barley Swine (): I sort of forgot about this. This place was fantastic. A similar feeling after having left Le Bernardin of completeness without overindulgence.

  • EL Ideas (): We ended up here as a table of 8 one night and the only people in the space. A fun experience and great food.

  • Rezdora (): World-class Rezdora hater. I just don't get it.