⭐ Michelin Guide: The Tire Company That Accidentally Conquered Food | 40

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Jack, you know, my mom has now been blacklisted basically from Uber.

What?

She can't get an Uber.

Like, if they don't take the route she wants to get to the West Side, they're going to hear about it.

Hang on.

So she got blacklisted by Uber because she was heckling the driver?

I discovered her Uber rating was like low for like that is i mean basically the uber says it's from one to five stars but it's really from four to five stars i mean jack think about it it's not just the uber ratings right like it's the door dash ratings the amazon ratings like there's so many ratings these days there's a little bit of a little bit of ratings inflation right oh 100 yeah like in reality the rating system these days is just from four to five that's the spectrum like 4.1 horribly bad right 4.9 incredibly good and because of that like ratings inflation we all live with jack in this internet era from Yelp to Uber to Amazon reviews, the ratings hold it all together, but they also kind of don't mean anything at all.

But Yetis, there is one rating that has stood the test of time.

One rating that stands for perfection.

One rating to rule them all.

The most recognized group that rates restaurants in the entire world.

We are talking about Michelin.

The Michelin Guide.

For almost a century, Michelin's restaurant reviews have been the defining ratings that can make or break a restaurant overnight.

The Michelin Guide features over 30,000 restaurants in more than 30 countries across three continents.

No brand has become more synonymous with the word perfection than the Michelin Guide.

In fact, there are only 151 restaurants in the world that have earned Michelin's highest rating, three stars.

And the Michelin Star system doesn't just impact a restaurant's prestige, but its bottom line too.

One Michelin star gets you about 20% more business, two stars, about 40%, and the holy grail, three stars will double your restaurant sales.

But when the Michelin Guide launched, it wasn't about making or breaking restaurants.

It was actually all about selling tires.

Because putting rubber around wheels was actually the main business of the Michelin brothers.

That's right.

The Michelin Guide is the Michelin tire company.

Yes.

It was a genius level marketing maneuver to get people to travel in cars in order to get them to buy more tires.

And Michelin is still producing tires today, around 200 million a year, making it the biggest tire company in the world by sales.

And somehow, this century-old guide has stayed relevant despite the internet age, Instagram influencers, and crowdsourced Yelp reviews.

Why has this analog, basic, simple rating system still thrived?

We'll tell you in this episode.

We'll explore the strategic mystery of Michelin's restaurant reviewing spies and why Thailand paid Michelin $4 million to review its green papaya salads.

Plus, we'll discover how a top-secret 1940s-era Michelin Guide played a little-known but decisive role in helping win World War II.

I'm sorry, did someone order a podcast about the business of Michelin stars?

Yes, chefs.

Here is why the Michelin Guide is the best idea yet.

From Wondery and T-Boy, I'm Nick Martel and I'm Jack Gravici-Kramer.

And this is the best idea yet.

The untold origin stories of the products you're obsessed with and the bold risk tankers who made them go viral.

It's a crisp spring morning in the south of France.

The sun is low, birds are chirping, and the scent of fresh bread wafts from a nearby boulingerie.

A cyclist, let's call him Claude, turns the corner of the narrow cobblestone road and coasts into the town square of Clermont-Ferrand.

Claude leans into the turn, enjoying the ride, when

Claude's front tire hits the edge of a dislodged cobblestone and bursts.

He narrowly avoids plowing into a group of elderly patonk players, creams across the square, and crashes into the central water fountain.

Now, apart from the embarrassment, Claude, he's got a problem here.

Yes, he's escaped injury, but his tire, it has not.

This is 1889, and tire technology is primitive.

Until recently, tires were just solid rubber with no air inside.

So back back then, tires didn't burst.

In fact, they couldn't burst.

But the downside is that there's no cushion to your ride, which is tre tre uncomfortable, especially on those 19th century cobbled streets.

But Claude is a man of modernity.

His tires are cutting edge for the time.

They're actually called pneumatic tires.

The innovation?

They have an air-filled inner tube.

This is good news for every biker's buttocks across the world.

Because the tires have air in them, they have more balance, which means more give.

Each bump in the road is absorbed rather than transferred straight through the solid tire, the frame, the saddle, and into your long-suffering rear end.

But Jack, there is a problem here.

These air-filled tires are so cutting edge that not many people know how to fix them when they break, including our guy, Claude.

So, Claude dusts himself off, calms his nerves with a quick cognac at the nearby bistro, and then asks the waiter if there is anybody in town who knows about tires.

The waiter thinks for a moment, there aren't any tire makers in town, but there is a factory that specializes in rubber hoses and farm equipment.

The waiter scribbles down the address on a coaster, then Claude pays his tab and starts walking his bike towards the Michelin factory.

The Michelin factory is run by two brothers.

They're a real yin and yang duo.

André is in his mid-30s and he's a whiz engineer.

He specializes in metal structures.

He even created the cast iron spires for Notre Dame Cathedral.

While Andre's brother, Edouard, is a painter with a fine arts degree.

He is in his late 20s and he is living the artist life over in Paris.

Edouard could be lighting up a cigarette with Oscar Wilde or munching baguettes with Claude Monet.

So you wonder, what is Edouard doing helping run a rubber factory?

Well, let's back up for a sec, Jack.

Both brothers actually had huge ambitions to take Paris by storm.

But before they can hit their stride in the big city, they get a telegram from their mom.

Since their grandfather passed away, the family rubber factory, it's experienced one calamity after another.

And now the whole business is an economic freefall.

Mama needs them to leave their glitzy Parisian lives and come back to save the family business.

Met no, c'est la vie, Jack, c'est la vie.

Andre and Edouard are disappointed, but they also know family comes first.

So they roll up their sleeves, determined to save the family factory.

They quickly realize the problem.

The rubber hoses and valves they're making just don't have the demand or profit margins to make the business viable.

They need to diversify.

Diversify into what?

The engineer and the artist here have no idea where to start.

What else can we do with all this rubber?

And then comes Claude Claude the cyclist.

He asks them if they can help, and the brothers say sure.

And when they take a look at the bike, something grabs their attention.

The bike is nothing special, but its tires are unlike anything the Michelin brothers have seen before.

Eduard and Andre, they're just marveling at these new inflatable rubber tires.

But as they flip over the bike and start detaching the wheel, they soon spot a big downside.

Yeah, these new inflatable bike tires, they're held on with glue.

It takes them hours just to figure out how to get the inner tube out of the tire.

But the ordeal isn't over because once the inner tube is replaced, then they have to glue the tire back in place on the wheel.

And then they got to let it dry overnight.

I hope Claude the cyclist doesn't need to be anyplace soon.

So Claude, yeah, he may be in an unfamiliar bed this evening, but it is Edward Michelin who's having trouble sleeping because his mind just won't let go of how ridiculously long it took to repair that tire.

Surely, there's gotta be a way to fix that flat in less than 15 hours, or is it not possible?

The next morning, Andre and Edouard wave as Claude says au revoir over his shoulder and bikes off.

Then, over a breakfast of strong coffee and buttery croissants, Edouard tells Andre how he can't stop thinking about that tire.

And that is when the brothers realize this isn't just a problem for Claude.

This is a problem faced by cyclists across the world.

If Andre and Edouard can create a bicycle tire that's easy to fix,

a tire that can be changed in minutes, not days,

then they won't just solve a headache for thousands of people.

They'll unlock a whole new market and a way to save the Michelin family business.

After two years of hard work, the Michelin brothers finally do it.

In 1891, they're first to market with a revolutionary new type of hollow air-filled tires for bicycles.

This detachable inflatable tire cuts down the changing time of a flat from 15 hours to 15 minutes.

It's official, Nick.

The Michelins can say they've literally reinvented the wheel.

Yes, they have.

The Michelins basically took what Dunlop did and they perfect it.

By the way, kind of cool that those two names, Michelin and Dunlop, are still billion-dollar beasts in the global tire industry today, 135 years later.

But the Michelin brothers don't just have a knack for inventing tires, they also have a flair for marketing.

They get famous cyclists to rep their new tires and talk about how easy they are to repair.

Get this.

In 1892, they organize a nail race where they scatter nails intentionally on the roof to make sure that every bicyclist will get a flat.

The cyclists using Michelin tires can quickly fix the punctures while others can't.

I mean, this is brilliant publicity, Jack.

And it works, baby.

Oh, it works.

Michelin receives 20,000 orders that year after they do these nail races.

It also happens to be when the brothers patent the hell out of their replaceable and plated tire.

The family business hath been saved.

With the bicycle market locked in and their tire design patented, the Michelin brothers noticed there's a small but but brand new industry in need of tires that just might have some potential.

Automobiles.

They're thinking these cars aren't as popular as bikes yet, but what the heck?

Maybe one day they will be.

So the brothers Michelin create a poster and magazine campaign to connect with car drivers featuring their brand new mascot, Bibendum.

Though you may know him better as the Michelin Man.

The idea for Bibendum came to Edward when he saw a pile of tires that looked like a person.

I guess you had to squint a certain way, Nick.

But if he's supposed to be made of tires, why did they choose to make him white?

Fantastic question, Jack.

You see, before 1912, tires were white or gray, the natural color of rubber.

But then, manufacturers began adding carbon to the tires to make them stronger.

And this turned the tires to black.

But Bibendem, he was already really well known as a mascot by then.

So Michon said, let's just keep him white.

Motorists love this new tire logo guy.

They love the nail stunts, and most of all, they love the new air-filled tires.

And by 1899, Michelin establishes itself as one of the leading tire brands of the burgeoning automotive industry.

They even expand their range to sell other auto parts like valves, belts, and brake pads.

Sales for Michelin soar from under half a million francs in 1891 to 6 million francs in 1900.

But, Jack, could you please sprinkle on some car context for us over there?

Michelin is a big supplier in a very small market.

Yeah, there happened to be fewer than 3,000 cars in all of France in 1900.

Roads were rough, fuel scarce, and instead of signs, you had to pull over and ask a farmer for directions.

Jack, they wore goggles when they were driving.

So, Michelin's tire sales hit a ceiling in this small market, which is when they realize if they want to grow their market, they don't just need a better product.

They need to stoke demand.

They need to give people more reasons to drive.

And that's when they hit upon an idea.

It's out of their comfort zone and at first this sounds insane.

But it has the potential to boost the entire French automobile industry and take cars from a luxury purchase to a must-have

And in the process, drive even more demand for their Michelin tires.

To get this idea up and running, they're gonna have to fund it themselves.

There's no guarantee it will work, and it means venturing completely out of the tire business to eventually sell more tires.

But the payoff could be so huge, the brothers are willing to bet the future of their family business on it.

That was just the appetizer to our story.

Get ready for the next course.

Today's show is brought to you by Amazon Small Business.

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Yeah, it's great.

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Total game changer for my fridge.

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On a narrow, winding country road in the French countryside, the peace is shattered by the coughing rumble of an engine.

Puttering past low stone walls and fields of wild poppies comes a boxy open-top automobile.

At the wheel is a man with a twirled mustache, driving goggles, and a wide closed-mouth grin.

Beside him sits a woman in a high-collared traveling coat, scarf fluttering in the wind.

They come to a fork in the road and stop.

Which way should we go, my dear?

The man asks.

Let's ask Bibendum, the woman replies.

She starts leafing through the thick, red-bound book.

Yetis, this is the original Michelin Guy, a 400-page fire-engine-red map-based travel book designed to help French drivers explore the country.

And the emphasis here is on drivers, because travel guides, yeah, they already existed, but they all assume you're traveling by train, the top form of transport at the time.

This guide is designed specifically for this niche market of car drivers.

It fits in your glove box and it has clear maps that emphasize road routes and distances between cities.

It even tells you what conditions the roads are in and how to change a flat tire.

It is not a hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy.

This is the car driver's guide to the countryside.

Now Bestie's this new Michelin guide also tells you where to find restaurants and hotels.

But as for that famous Michelin three-star rating system, well that doesn't exist yet.

At least not as we know it today.

Because in this first edition, only hotels get stars.

And they have nothing to do with the quality of the food.

Instead, they just let you see how expensive the rooms are at a quick glance.

The info for this guide doesn't come from respected food critics and travel writers.

It mostly comes from traveling tire salesmen employed by Michelin.

They aren't experts in Haute cuisine, but they are constantly on the road.

So they're an easy way for Michelin to keep their guides up to date.

The real reason the Michelin brothers have put this guide together in the first place is just to get people excited about hitting the road.

Because if you're planning road trips, you need a guide.

And if you're taking road trips, you need a car.

And if you've got a car, well,

you're going to be needing some tires.

Maybe preferably some Michelin tires.

You know, Nick, we haven't mentioned a critical detail about the Michelin tire business.

They're actually in the tire replacement business.

Because today, tires last 55,000 miles.

But back then, tires lasted just 1,000 miles.

That's it.

The real profit puppy of the tire industry isn't selling a car company its initial first set of tires.

It's on selling the driver a second, third, and fourth set of replacement tires over the lifetime of the car.

If these guys can cultivate the interest in car travel, fertilize that demand with a guidebook, and water it with their advertisements, then it will blossom years down the road into replacement tire sales, ideally Michelin tire sales.

You gotta respect the long-term thinking of this plan.

Absolutely, Jack.

Andre and Edward, they must be really bullish when it comes to the growth of the car industry.

Because remember, back in 1900, when they published the guide for the first time, there are fewer than 3,000 cars on France's roads.

But the Michelin brothers must have imagined an extra zero or something.

Because in their first print run of the Michelin Guide, they print 35,000 copies, 10 times more copies than there are cars on the road.

And they give the copies away for free.

These These Michelin brothers, they are playing the long, long, long game here.

For their bet to pay off, so much has to go so right.

Andre and Edouard are betting on the Michelin brand's hard-earned sterling reputation to transfer instant credibility and become synonymous with the Michelin Guides.

It turns out their instincts are pretty spot-on.

By 1910, the number of cars in France has gone from around 3,000 to 50,000.

And the Michelin Guide fuels this wave of all those new drivers because as more people hit the road, more people use the guide.

And the guide makes people want to drive more to explore the restaurants, hotels, and hidden gems that the guide recommends.

And that's when Michelin also begins expanding outside of France in 1904.

When the Michelin Guide hits Belgium, pretty soon, most countries in Western Europe are getting the Michelin treatment, as well as Algeria, Tunisia, and Egypt.

There's There's a clear strategy at play here.

Michelin enters a country by beginning to sell tires there, then follows up with a guide.

The guide promotes driving and domestic tourism, which in turn boosts demand for the guide, and most importantly, Michelin tires.

It's a feedback loop that's going so smoothly, you could say Michelin has created a flywheel effect.

And that flywheel keeps spinning until 1914, when World War I grinds it to a stop.

By 1919, a year after the war has ended, publishing of the travel guide resumes.

One afternoon, though, Andre walks into a tire shop and sees something that stops him cold.

It's a copy of the Michelin Guide covered in grease, torn at the spine, propping up a workbench.

I mean, this is a gut punch for Andre, because over the last two decades, the Michelin Guide has gone from a dog-eared driving companion to a respected travel guide.

At least, that's what Andre then believed.

But in this moment, seeing his beloved work used like scrap cardboard, he realizes a truth about consumer culture.

People don't respect what they get for free.

Remember this moment here, because this single observation of the beaten-down free Michelin guidebook will forever change its business model, but also its potential.

So Andre goes to his former artist brother, Edward, tells him what he saw, and makes makes a bold pitch that will appeal to his cultured sensibilities.

If they want people to take the guide seriously, they need to start charging money for it.

Because what began as a freebie, a clever loss leader to boost tire sales, now needs to evolve into something bigger.

An aspirational travel companion for sophisticated travelers who want the finest experiences.

We always like to say, pricing is a signal.

Well, you know, it's pretty hard to signal perfection when you're handing handing something out for free at no charge like day old bread.

Surprisingly though, Edward's not into this idea.

This guide exists to sell tires.

It's supposed to lose money.

It's basically just a clever marketing expense to get more drivers on the road.

And what Andre is proposing, I mean, that feels like more than just a minor detour.

In fact, it feels like a badly planned off-road excursion into unknown business territory.

But then Andre lays it out.

This guide's not just about selling tires.

It's about winning mental real estate.

Because let's be honest, Nick, apart from when you're at the Jiffy Loop, when was the last time you thought about tires?

Well, this is Andre's big insight.

Don't shout about the tires.

Don't try to force the connection either.

Instead, make the Michelin guide so desirable, so premium, that it is the first thing people reach for when they're planning a grand road trip.

And then when your mechanic says it's time for new tires, one brand name will be top of mind.

Michelin.

So Andre wins Edouard over.

And in 1920, the guide gets its first price tag.

From now on, this isn't just a travel aid, it's a status symbol.

But strangely, this pivot is about to change the world of food forever.

At a corner table of a candlelit bistro somewhere in Paris, an inconspicuous man sits alone.

A waiter approaches and announces his entree, a filet of sole, delicately pan-seared in clarified Normandy butter, finished with a drizzle of chive and fennel infusion.

Bon a petite.

The man waits for the waiter to leave before he takes his first bite.

Then a second.

Then, the man reaches into his jacket, pulls out a small leather-bound notebook, and begins to write.

Slowly and deliberately.

Nick, can you see what he's writing in the dark ambiance?

It looks like he's assessing the food based on five criteria, okay?

One, quality of ingredients.

Impeccable.

Two, technique.

Precise and tastefully restrained.

Three, expression.

The chef's hand is clear, confident, but not showy.

Four, value.

At 10 francs for the entree, it's reasonable.

Enumero cinque, consistency.

This standard is just as high as my last visit six months ago.

This guy is not here for pleasure.

This guy is here to rate this restaurant according to the highest standards of the Michelin Guide.

The same standards and criteria that the Michelin food critics use to this day.

His assessment is nearly complete.

Just one very important question remains.

How many stars?

One star worth a stop.

Two stars means worth a detour.

Or three stars worth a special trip.

Those are the literal definitions from Michelin itself, and that has not changed in nine decades.

The man marks his score in his notebook, a quiet gesture that could change the fortunes of this restaurant.

He pays in cash and slips out into the warm Paris night.

Inside, the kitchen carries on, unaware that something monumental just happened at table 12.

It's 1933, and in the past decade, Andre's plan to take the Michelin guide from general travel guide to premium arbiter of taste has paid off.

In 1920, when they started charging seven francs for the guide, it sold nearly 100,000 copies.

This is a nice new revenue stream for Michelin Jack.

Oh, and there's also a news section in the guide that readers in particular embrace.

Recommended hotels and restaurants.

In fact, the focus on meals is so beloved, the brothers make a major editorial decision.

They decide to ditch all that content about car chassis checkups and instead focus the entire Michelin guide on hospitality.

And as the readers write in saying they love the restaurant reviews, those restaurant write-ups become more and more prominent in the guide.

Andre and Edward realize that they're now in a new industry, that writing these reviews is far above the pay grade and expertise of their army of tire salesmen.

Which happens to bring us back to our little scene in that tiny Parisian bistro, because the Michelin brothers start recruiting undercover food critics.

Here's the plan.

Have these critics visit restaurants anonymously to make sure the restaurant doesn't give them special treatment and then rate them on a set of strict standards.

And this ambiguity in who or how the ratings are done, it is a powerful part of Michelin's staying power because who they are, how they're vetted, how they're trained, this is like a CIA operation with reports that some of the reviewers even wear costumes or use fake names.

We're talking mustaches just to get in.

These reviewers are consuming and expensing 600 meals per year in disguise for the Michelin Guide.

They're basically the Jason Bourne of beignets.

In most businesses, transparency is valued, but the Michelin Guide is one of the rare cases where it isn't.

The Michelin brothers also realize that the guide's real value isn't in listing every place you eat.

The real value is in narrowing down to the few places where you should eat.

So in 1926, Michelin begins to award stars for fine dining establishments, initially marking them only with a single star.

Five years later, the three-star system makes its debut.

And now, Michelin has truly moved from just the content game to the curation game, which unlocks an entirely new type of value.

Pretty soon, Andre and Edouard have reached their 70s.

Their Michelin guide has done what they wanted.

There were only 3,000 cars on French roads when they started, but by 1935, there are over 2 million.

And a shockingly key driver of that new car demand was their Michelin Guide.

At first, simply encouraging drivers to get out on the road and eventually tempting readers to jump in their cars to track down the perfect petissarie from Paris to Provence.

By the time Andre passes away in 1931 and Edouard in 1940, the Michelin Guide has transformed.

It's gone from a free roadside handbook to a not free prestige travel companion.

And it's the most celebrated restaurant rating system in the world, associated with one huge word: perfection.

However, when World War II erupts, the guide once again halts publication as conflict takes over.

But this time, France is occupied, meaning the Michelin tire factories can't help in the fight.

But Michelin does have something else to offer the war effort: the Michelin Guide.

Only this time, it's not for hungry tourists, it's for Allied troops landing behind enemy lines.

Fog clings to the fields of Normandy as dawn breaks, and a squad of U.S.

paratroopers crouch behind a hedgerow.

They're trying to put distance between themselves and their parachutes, tangled in the tops of some nearby trees.

But which way should they go?

It's June 6th, 1944, D-Day, the day the Allies invaded Nazi-controlled continental Europe.

And these paratroopers are just one squad among the nearly 200,000 Allied soldiers making that daunting landing.

One soldier pulls a small sand-colored booklet from his pack.

Across the top of its cover are four words, for official use only.

Beneath it, a cartoon of a rotund figure made of thick white bands runs alongside the image of a tire.

This is the Michelin Guide, the War edition.

During the D-Day planning stages, American generals knew the challenges that troops would face once they hit French soil.

Unfamiliar terrain, no English signage.

Oh, and the road signs that hadn't been torn down were likely rigged with disinformation by the Germans.

That's why, in the lead up to the invasion, the U.S.

military issued reprints of the 1939 Michelin Guide to soldiers heading to France.

Not only are the French towns listed in alphabetical order, order, the maps are so clear that even non-French speakers could use them to navigate.

It even shows the conditions of the roads, the distance between towns, and the strength of the bridges.

All of that was in this Michelin restaurant guide.

What an epic twist to the Michelin Guide story.

Plus, it worked.

The Michelin Guide helps the Allies navigate France and eventually win the war.

With peace restored, the Michelin man trades in his army fatigues and puts his dinner jacket right back on.

He gets back to reviewing restaurants.

This is the boomer years for the Michelin Guide.

By the 1950s, consumers are revenge spending after the war, and Michelin has solidified itself as the definitive voice in fine dining.

Food lovers start to plan their holidays around the Michelin recommendations.

French chefs, they build their reputations and their careers on the hope of earning a star.

And when they do, oh, the the pressure to keep it becomes all consuming.

Earning a single Michelin star could mean pack tables for months.

But remember, every year they issue the stars again, so you could lose it.

And losing a star could spell financial ruin or at least be a huge knock in the chef's confidence.

What started here as a basic road atlas has gone from simple guide to the gospel of gastronomy, at least in Europe.

Because shocker, the French thought only the French were were capable of a sous videard à la Presse and the Michelin star it so deserved.

For the rest of the 20th century, America was actually left waiting at the hostess station.

Michelin refused to review a single Yankee restaurant until the year 2005.

And when the guide finally crosses the Atlantic, the question isn't just which chef might earn a star, but whether Michelin can even make it in a hamburger-loving, hot dog-hugging, Twinkie-crushing America.

On a crisp fall morning in New York City, French chef Eric Raper is out for a run in Central Park around the reservoir.

The air smells like roasted chestnuts.

The trees are a riot of red, gold, and brown autumn leaves.

But all Eric can see is tires.

Michelin tires.

And what he feels is Michelin pressure.

Because in four days, on December 7th, 2005, the first ever New York edition of the Michelin Guide will be published.

And today is the day that the calls go out.

Any New York City chef lucky enough to receive a star can expect a phone call from Michelin Guide's managing director, Jean-Luc Nouré, to deliver the life-changing news.

Eric is co-owner of La Bernadin, known as one of the world's finest seafood restaurants.

Eric grew up in France.

He even worked in Michelin-starred restaurants before he moved to America in the 1980s.

So for him, being one of the first U.S.

restaurants to get a Michelin star would be huge.

In 2005, New York City has around 23,000 restaurants.

Only 507 are selected to appear in the debut 2006 Michelin Guide, New York Edition.

Of those, 31 earn one star, four earn two stars, and another four land the ultimate prize.

Three Michelin stars.

Wow, wow.

468 get a mention in the guide.

No star, but still a tremendous honor.

But back to Eric.

He's in the park jogging past the Met and coming up on the Alexander Hamilton Monument when suddenly his pocket vibrates.

He stops and fumbles for his phone.

Unknown caller.

His mouth suddenly feels dry as he flips open his phone and answers the call.

It's Jean-Luc Nera.

And a few moments after answering, Eric lets out a scream.

Yeah!

He has done it!

It's official!

Eric Repert is a Michelin three-star chef.

Sacre Bleu.

Okay, so Eric is thrilled.

And so are a bunch of other lucky chefs.

To rank all of those restaurants, Michelin sent out five of its European inspectors to assess 1,500 restaurants across the five boroughs.

And let's just say this New York landing wasn't exactly flawless.

Critics call the guide too French because more than half the restaurants awarded two or three stars, they're French or French influenced.

Jean-Luc attempts to address some of these issues.

A year after the launch of the New York Guide, he opens an office in the city and recruits more local reviewers instead of relying on snooty Europeans.

But you know what, Jack?

Michelin pulls it off.

And not just in the U.S.

Let's take a moment and serve up an explanation of how the Michelin Review business model works today.

Countries pay the Michelin Guide to come to them.

South Korea shelled out close to $2 million and Thailand $4 million just to have Michelin come on over and rate the restaurants.

Just last year, Texas state and city tourism boards paid $2.7 million to get the Lone Star Stay into the Michelin Guide.

So why are governments so thirsty to be reviewed?

Well, because Michelin's Guide is one of the most demonstrably powerful tourism forces in the history of travel.

In fact, according to an EY report, 71% of travelers will increase spending if a Michelin-reviewed option exists in the city.

But there's a flip side for restaurants.

Some chefs call it the curse of the Michelin star.

Oh boy.

Because once you've been awarded a star, expectations skyrocket.

Diners become more demanding.

Suppliers start raising their prices.

We found plenty of examples of landlords who hike up rent after a Michelin rating because you're now a Michelin-starred tenant.

Honestly, can't think of any other brand that has achieved and maintained an association with the word perfection more than Michelin through its restaurant guide.

It's even more impressive considering the Michelin Guide basically hasn't changed in 125 years.

The internet democratized food critics with your buddy Timmy's Yelp review.

Dave Portnoy goes viral on TikTok for his one-bite pizza reviews.

And yet the Michelin Guide, printed in a book with no pictures or videos, remains the cream of the crop.

And for that reason, Jack and I would would give this business model three out of three stars.

You know what, Nick?

You've treated me to three Michelin meals already.

Why don't you treat me to a takeaway now that we've heard the story?

Okay, here's my takeaway, Jack.

Tastemaking is timeless.

What's striking about the Michelin story isn't just how much it's changed over the decades.

It's how much it hasn't changed.

Over a century since it's launched, the guide still informs chefs of their star ratings the same way it did in the the 1920s.

That kind of enduring authority as a tastemaker is rare and it has to be earned.

Yeah.

Barack Obama's book club sends book sales flying off the shelves.

White Lotus films a season in Sicily.

Tourism there skyrockets.

Here's what Jack and I find fascinating.

Tastemaking can't be faked and that is more important than ever.

Audiences can sniff at a conflict of interest from a mile away.

They can tell something's fake.

To get there to tastemaker status, you need to build credibility with consistency.

And if you make it, your influence can last for decades, just like Michelin's has.

But Jack, what about you?

What's your takeaway?

I'm going to go driving analogy here, Nick.

Michelin is the ultimate example of detour marketing.

What they did with the Michelin guide was extremely indirect, but it still drives the core business.

They created a restaurant guide to encourage more driving so people would wear out their tires faster and need replacements from Michelin.

And it works.

It's a marketing strategy of making the consumer take the scenic route, but ultimately end up at the same destination.

More tire sales.

It's an indirect way of selling a product.

Bravo, Michelin.

Okay, yetis, before we go, it is time for our absolute favorite part of the show, the best facts yet.

These are the hero stats, the facts, and surprises we discovered in our research but couldn't fit in the story.

All right, chef, let's dig in on what do we got.

Not all chefs dream about getting a Michelin star.

In 2017, the chef at a Michelin-starred restaurant in France actually asked to have their stars taken away.

After 15 years running bra restaurant, chef Sebastian Brahe, who'd inherited the three-star restaurant from his father, said he just wanted to return to a life of cooking without fear of doing something to have one of his stars taken away.

It was the first time Michelin has ever let a restaurant deselect itself from the guide.

He later earned two of them back on his own without his father's help.

All right, Jack, I got another one for you here.

And not all Michelin-starred restaurants need you to take out a second mortgage in order to enjoy the apps.

In fact, in 2016, a Michelin star was awarded to a street vendor for the first time ever.

Hawker Chan over in Singapore, a street food stall famous for its soy sauce, chicken rice, which costs just $2.50 a dish.

It's proof that you don't need white tablecloths and wine pairings to impress the Michelin inspectors.

You just need mastery and flavor.

Oh, also, we should point out, Besties, if you happen to be down to Florida, Disney has a Michelin-starred restaurant in Orlando.

It's the Victoria and Albert in Disney World, but a meal there, it's going to cost you more than street noodles.

Its prefix menu starts at $295 per person.

Yeties, if you remember nothing else about this episode, if you're debating between snow tires and souffles, Michelin's got you covered.

And that is why the Michelin Guide is truly the best idea yet.

Coming up on the next episode of The Best Idea Yet, dust off your PokeDex, slip on your Z-ring, and hold on to those Pokeballs because we're talking Pokemon.

And don't forget to rate and review the show right now on whatever platform you're listening on.

Five stars and following the show, that actually helps us grow in the rankings.

We'd love to have you with us.

The best idea yet is a production of Wondering, hosted by me, Nick Martel, and me, Jack Kurvici-Kramer.

Our senior producers are Matt Beagle and Chris Gautier.

Peter Arcuni is our additional senior producer.

Our senior managing producer is Nick Ryan, and Taylor Sniffin is our managing producer.

Our producer and researcher is H.

Conley.

This episode was written by Brent Corson and Adam Skeuse.

It was produced by Adam Skeuse.

We use many sources in our research, including Michelin Man, 100 Years of Bibendom by Olivier Darman and the 1954 New Yorker article, The Testing of Monsieur Tulier.

Sound design and mixing by C.J.

Drummeler.

Fact-checking by Brian Pocknan.

Music supervision by Scott Velazquez and Jolena Garcia for Freeson Sync.

Our theme song is Got That Feeling Again by Blackalak.

Executive producers for Nick and Jack Studios are me, Nick Martell, and me, Jack Ravici-Kramer.

Executive producers for Wondery are Jenny Lauer-Beckman, Erin O'Flaherty, and Marshall Louie.

Follow the best idea yet on the Wondery app, Amazon Music, or wherever you get your podcasts.

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