Restaurateurs were acting like bleary teenagers this week, constantly swiping their phones. Why? It was the annual bloodsport that is the release of the Michelin stars in its 2016 guide to restaurants in Britain and Ireland. The bosses "leaked" it on their Twitter feed the day before it was due to be announced officially. So the winners and losers saw their stars appear or disappear on their phones as the rest of the fishbowl watched open-mouthed.
Ouch! It wasn't pretty. The biggest shock was the deletion of Kevin Thornton's star. Some people get dumped by text. His two-decade relationship with the stars ended with a lunchtime tweet.
What is the stars, as Joxer might ask? The red symbols (they were black until 2006) are more like rosettes, or flowers with six petals. Some believe they were modelled on a French macaron, a biscuit made of almonds, sugar and egg whites. One star denotes "a very good restaurant in its category". Two means "worth a detour". Three means "worth a special detour". The guide was released as a freebie for motorists by the Michelin brothers to help sell their new removable tyres. With typical French modesty the first edition, in 1900, declared: "The Guide arrives with the new century and will see it end." And it did.
So is any Irish restaurant "worth a special detour"? Not according to Michelin. We have one two-star restaurant on the island. Restaurant Patrick Guilbaud, in Dublin, has held its two stars for more than 20 years.
Do restaurants pay for stars or listings? No.
So everyone regards Michelin as a reliable, independent guide to good food? There's the spice rub. The food world has a weirdly warped relationship with it. Critics love to hate Michelin. They dismiss it as an outdated old dear, an uptight throwback to pinkie-pointing waiters and fussy food. But everyone watches the list like a hungry hawk. In the internet-listicle age it remains a huge talking point, and a chef's CV looks a little bare without a Michelin mention.
How are the stars decided? That was a secret until 2004, when one of their own, Pascal Remy, broke the omertà and published The Inspector Sits Down at the Table, which accused Michelin of sloppy standards. Remy claimed restaurants weren't being visited annually and that three-star establishments were allowed to coast on their reputations, with chefs able to cosy up to the guide and keep their stars. A year later one French chef, Alain Senderens, handed back his three stars, saying he was turning his restaurant into a brasserie because the cost of maintaining a three-star standard of posh was sinking him. The criteria for gaining and keeping a star remain a mystery, much to the chagrin of chefs, who tend towards the control-freak side of the spectrum. Michelin UK inspectors seem to inspect Irish restaurants at least once a year. The telltale sign is a table for one booked on a UK phone number. Lately they've been announcing themselves after the meal is over and chatting to the chef before they leave.
So Michelin just concentrates on Dublin, like a typical lazy restaurant critic, right? No. The capital is losing its position as the centre of restaurant world in Ireland. Dublin is down to three one-star Michelin restaurants in the latest list. Kilkenny has two, Galway has two and, in a move that delighted Northern Ireland, Belfast now has two after a star-free five years.
What? No Michelin stars in Cork, Ireland's food capital? No.
