As you read this, someone could be dining in a Minneapolis restaurant and meditating on whether or not their chicken roulade has the same tenderness and flavor as the last time they ate it. Does this bit of bird have a farm reputation, and, if so, does it live up to it? Does the plate convey what the chef intends, perhaps speaking to the restaurant’s mission, about why it’s here? Is it pretty? Is it priced fairly? All of this before and after the expected: Is it delicious? This someone, raising their forkful from plate to mouth with measured consideration, could be a Michelin inspector. Or not. You’d never know. All you can really know is that for the first time ever it might be, because we are finally having our Michelin moment.
When news broke in April that we were going to be included as part of Michelin’s Great Lakes regional guide, let’s just say it wasn’t a total surprise to many. Rumors had been scuttling about for years, but the intensity had ramped up in recent months as friends from across the border in Milwaukee began sharing their murmurings. While I was chasing down info, it became clear to me that this was not going to be a singularly Minnesota moment but a regional grouping. And yet, when the announcement dropped, it was still a shock.
No St. Paul. The fact the guide would not include the twin sister city really overshadowed the whole celebration for many. Minneapolis would be the sole Minnesota city graded in the Great Lakes group, which would also include only one city from each of five other states: Milwaukee in Wisconsin, Cleveland in Ohio, Detroit in Michigan, Indianapolis in Indiana, and Pittsburgh in Pennsylvania.
Sidebar: I know, Pittsburgh? Doesn’t that seem more like an East Coast city? And isn’t there a giant Chicago-shaped hole in this Great Lakes list? Well, Michelin has been in Chicago for more than 15 years, and it was only the fifth U.S. city to have its own designated guide. In its inaugural year, the guide awarded stars to 23 restaurants. As of 2025, 20 restaurants now have star ratings, from Topolobampo, which has held its one-star rating since the beginning, to Alinea, which was downgraded from three to two stars for the first time last year, to Smyth, which now sits as the lone three-star restaurant in the city. All of this is to say, Chicago is its own beast and would not be helpful to the Great Lakes guide.
While the St. Paul snub feels personal, it’s important to know that the feeling is not unique up here in the Great Lakes area. Madison chefs would like a word. When I spoke with Lyndsay C. Green, the Pulitzer Prize finalist and food critic for the Detroit Free Press, she mentioned that Ann Arbor is feeling the same way. But she was also surprised about St. Paul given that the Minnesota funding for inclusion is nearly twice what the other cities have paid.
To clarify, Michelin is not strictly pay-for-play in that you are not guaranteed any stars when your tourism collective plunks down a pile of cash for Michelin to come to town. Boston committed more than $1 million over three years, and only one restaurant earned a star in the city’s first year. Think of it more like college. You apply to get accepted; you pay a bunch of money to have the chance to earn an A. Your tuition bill is not a diploma; you have to earn that yourself.
What was surprising is that Minneapolis is paying $750,000 over three years to matriculate at the University of Michelin, while Indy, Milwaukee, and Cleveland each are paying $450,000 over the three. The Detroit and Pittsburgh organizations both declined to confirm their bills, but Visit Pittsburgh did say, in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, that its contribution was “on the lower end of the range.” Knowing all this could make the St. Paul snub feel a little spicier.
And yet, the gift is: This moment brings fresh eyes and a discernment we don’t currently have. These inspectors have a dedicated mission and a metric that has nothing to do with community ties or the burden of being a personality in the Cities. They are trained and vetted eaters who aren’t submitting their evaluations for those contending for James Beard Awards; they aren’t trying to get more followers or social clout; they aren’t worried about budgets for their third visit. And if a restaurant is deemed right for a visit, it will get a visit every year, which means there’s an opportunity to get better, to do better by these standards. The curse is that for some, this could mean ridiculous pressure, and for others, it will feel like they never got the chance to shine.
I think we need to remember the Michelin Guide brings more than what some would consider a report card—it offers an opportunity for Minnesota. Most chefs I’ve spoken with have said that they would feel honored with the slightly more casual Bib Gourmand designation, and even more agreed that it would be great just to be named in the city guide. The guide, which was created in the late 1800s by the French tire company to get people out driving to restaurants (let’s wear down those tires, boys!), is, at its most functional, a way for out-of-towners to get a lay of the land in a new city. Some visitors will look to the guide for stars; others will look for guideposts as they plan their time in a city. That’s how I use it whenever I’m headed somewhere new.
This guide doesn’t have to be everything, but you’d be remiss to believe it isn’t something. Yes, it favors the finer establishments, but I have walked by Michelin-rated street carts in Japanese markets and found a Michelin noodle bar in a mall in Bangkok. While Minneapolis is the focal point, Michelin has said that it will better understand the geographical importance of a metro and its food pillars once it gets into the work of eating and evaluating. Could that mean that Travail in Robbinsdale or Myriel in St. Paul gets a look? We really won’t know anything until 2027, will we?
Dining and Cooking