Last week I had the privilege of dining at Don Alfonso 1890, a sleek, modern restaurant atop the Westin Harbour Castle hotel where the eight-course tasting menu costs $220 a person ($340 if you include matching wines) and includes a quenelle of eel gelato eaten with rose-flavoured tagliatelle. I was a guest of my brother-in-law, visiting from the States. He had booked the table based on the Toronto Michelin Guide.
The Italian fine-dining room holds one of three possible Michelin stars, denoting “high-quality cooking, worth a stop.” It happened to be the day after Michelin released its latest 100 recommended restaurants in the Greater Toronto Area. The guide confirmed Don Alfonso’s one-star rating.
“What a relief,” confided our waiter. “Everyone is able to breathe easier, especially the chef.” No kidding.
Losing a Michelin star can lead to financial loss, and even suicide in the case of said to have become despondent after their ratings dipped. Don Alphonso is so proud of its status that staff wear a replica red Michelin star on their grey uniforms, right above their hearts. But here’s what you might not know: For all of its prestige, Michelin is a pay-to-play operation, and taxpayers are footing the bill.
Before Michelin came to Toronto in 2022, readers would consistently ask me why our great food city lacked the cachet of a Red Guide. “Our restaurants must not be good enough,” they surmised. Wrong.
It was never about the quality of our restaurants. It was.
