Prime Minister Christopher Luxon announced on November 6 at AUT's school of hospitality and tourism that New Zealand will be included in The Michelin Guide from June 2026. Photo / Corey Fleming
New Zealand’s food criticism is too cosy, our hospitality strategy is siloed, food security is ignored and our outrage is misdirected. The Michelin debate just made it impossible to ignore.
This is an edited version of a column that originally appeared on the Substack More Good Drinks and is published with permission.
Six million dollars to bring the Michelin Guide to New Zealand, and the country has collectively lost its mind. The good news is that this time, everyone arguing is a little bit right.
The outrage merchants are in full throat: “Moral bankruptcy!” “What about Cuisine?” “People are hungry!” “Australia said no!”
Meanwhile, I can tell you - having spent over three years with Tourism New Zealand - pitching food and wine activity every step of the way based on what travellers told us they actually wanted to know: the real scandal isn’t the $6.3 million Tourism New Zealand spent to secure the Michelin Guide.
It’s that we’re showcasing our disconnected, binary understanding of food and tourism, two of our biggest exports and industries.
Here’s what the Michelin hysteria is really exposing: New Zealand has no government agency responsible for food as a complete system.
We have excellence in silos. We have no food strategy.
And that’s why when Michelin arrives, everyone loses their minds. Critics aren’t really angry about $6 million. They’re angry about everything they wish existed but doesn’t: food security and nutrition access, food literacy, value over volume in production, local supply resilience, proper support for local food media, clear career pathways for young chefs, consistent quality standards, professional food discourse, someone - anyone - thinking about food holistically.
So, they project all of it onto a Tourism New Zealand marketing initiative.
Of course, a $6.3 million tourism programme can’t deliver comprehensive food policy, media support, hospitality training, and social services.
It shouldn’t have to.
But the fact that everyone expects it to? That’s where the real gap lives.
Watch how the criticism splinters:
The Taxpayers Union sees it as wasteful spending during a cost-of-living crisis. What they’re really saying: “Why isn’t there better prioritisation of social spending?”
The Spinoff’s Nick Iles wants that money supporting Cuisine magazine instead. What he’s really saying: “Why isn’t there support for local food media?”
Chef Al Brown warns about toxic kitchen culture and suicide risk. What he’s really saying: “Why don’t we have better mental health support and professional standards in hospitality?”
Regional operators and commentators are furious only four cities are covered. What they’re really saying: “Why isn’t there comprehensive infrastructure and promotion for food tourism nationwide?”
Newstalk ZB’s John MacDonald compares it to Lifeline’s funding gap. What he’s really saying: “Why aren’t social services properly funded?”
All valid concerns. None of them are Tourism New Zealand’s job to fix.
But because there’s no one agency responsible for the big picture - no one connecting tourism to hospitality to food security to cultural infrastructure - everyone’s legitimate frustrations get funnelled into attacking whatever food-related initiative happens to make headlines.
Michelin just had the misfortune of being that initiative.
Now that we understand what’s really happening, let’s address the money.
Tourism New Zealand has one mandate: promote New Zealand as a destination to high-value international visitors. Not feed hungry people. Not fund crisis helplines. Not support domestic media. Promote tourism.
The $6.3 million comes partially from the International Visitor Levy - collected from tourists for tourism infrastructure - plus TNZ baseline funding. It literally cannot be redirected to Lifeline or food banks. That’s not how government funding works. And yes, TNZ had a mandate change during Covid, but now their job is to get the numbers back up (still 13% away) and they need to be the right tourists.
Comparing tourism spend to social services is like demanding the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra solve homelessness. Worthy cause, wrong agency, different budget line.
The question isn’t “should we spend this on restaurants instead of people?” It’s “is Tourism New Zealand effectively executing its actual mandate?”
On that measure? They nailed it.
Let’s get some perspective on what New Zealand actually spends money on.
Since 2010, we’ve given nearly $1 billion in subsidies to international film productions. The scheme pays out around $200 million annually. Amazon’s Lord of the Rings series alone cost taxpayers $160m for the first season - before relocating to the UK.
The Peter Jackson LOTR trilogy? We subsidised it $150m. The return? An estimated $620m in tourism revenue between 2001 and 2021.
In April 2025, Tourism New Zealand spent $13.5m on an Australia campaign. Earlier, it dropped $500,000 on the “Everyone Must Go” slogan that got mocked mercilessly but apparently worked.
This Michelin investment represents less than 2% of Tourism New Zealand’s $130m annual budget.
If we can spend $160m helping Amazon film hobbits, we can spend $6m helping our outstanding food experiences become top of the must-do list with elite food travellers.
“Australia declined Michelin, so we should have too!”
Let’s examine this brilliant logic (insert eyeroll).
Australia was quoted $40m over five years. We’re paying $6.3m over three. Australia has 26 million people. We have five million. Australia already has World’s 50 Best representation, established fine dining tourism infrastructure, and multiple domestic food guides with genuine international reach.
We are not Australia. Different scale, different food media landscape, different value proposition. Australia is more than 15 years deep into a highly effective food and drink tourism strategy - hello South Australia, hello Melbourne? You know the reputation of those destinations and there’s a reason. Australia has already been spreading the food and drink word — New Zealand needs Michelin to help us get the job started. Because every critic of the Michelin package has already been outspoken that we don’t do enough to spread the good word.
If anything, we negotiated Michelin at a bargain price while Australia’s Tourism board looked at their quote and thought, “probably not worth it at that cost”.
We got in cheaper. That’s not us being stupid. That’s strategic.
“Only 36,000 extra visitors? That’s $175 per visitor!”
This reveals a spectacular misunderstanding of how tourism economics work - which, having spent years in tourism marketing strategy, I find both amusing and depressing.
Those 36,000 visitors don’t materialise at Auckland Airport and immediately vanish. They stay in hotels (multiple nights). They eat at restaurants (multiple meals). They drink wine (hopefully lots). They visit regions. They shop. They return. In fact, all of Tourism New Zealand’s other projects support stay longer and do more. So like compounding interest, no one comes this far to go to a single city. And you can’t help but travel through the regions as you get to our other must-do experiences. Stay longer: spend more.
Tourism New Zealand’s own research - including datasets I worked on - shows 87% of people actively considering New Zealand cite “trying local cuisine” as their number one interest.
Once visitors are here, they MUST spend on food and drink. That’s not optional tourist behaviour - that’s survival meeting destination experience.
More critically, Michelin creates what economists call a “quality signal”. It’s not just about the tiny percentage who specifically hunt Michelin stars. It’s about positioning New Zealand as a serious culinary destination in the minds of millions who’ll never eat at a starred restaurant but whose decision-making is influenced by that reputation.
The ripple effect compounds. That’s not $175 per visitor. That’s $175 into an economic multiplier that flows through accommodation, transport, retail, regional tourism, and repeat visitation.
Now we get to the genuinely exciting bit that everyone’s missing while they’re screaming about budget lines.
Michelin’s arrival forces New Zealand to confront something uncomfortable: our food criticism isn’t anonymous, isn’t formally trained to a unifying standard, and operates with zero degrees of separation.
Michelin is the opposite. Anonymous inspectors with rigorous training, consistent methodology, and standards calibrated across 40 countries. Restaurants can’t prepare. Can’t butter up the critic. Can’t offer the special table or the off-menu tasting.
That’s terrifying if you’re used to the cosy intimacy of New Zealand’s small dining scene. But it’s also exactly what professional food criticism looks like. A constructive partnership between the critic and the kitchen.
The solution isn’t to claim “no one else can understand our food” because they’re uncomfortable. Too late, the assessors have already been here. It’s to level up our own discourse while Michelin does its job. To professionalise food writing. To develop formal training. To build genuine critical infrastructure.
That’s the opportunity. And it’s worth far more than $6.3m.
Regional exclusion complaints are predictable. Craggy Range in Hawke’s Bay - one of only six restaurants with three hats - isn’t eligible because it falls outside Auckland, Wellington, Christchurch, and Queenstown.
Frustrating for it? Absolutely. Fatal to the programme? No.
Michelin is making a targeted bet on New Zealand’s primary tourist centres. If the inaugural guide succeeds, expansion becomes possible. If TNZ had tried to cover the whole country in year one, $6.3m would be spread too thin to make meaningful impact anywhere.
Better to do four cities brilliantly than 10 cities badly.
And let’s be pragmatic: regional restaurants have been building international reputations without Michelin for years. Craggy Range doesn’t need a star to be excellent. But four major cities landing decisively on the global culinary map? That raises the profile of every food and wine region in New Zealand.
A rising tide lifts all boats. Even the boats not directly in the harbour.
Let me be crystal clear: Michelin won’t solve our problems.
Not every restaurant will get a star. Most won’t be reviewed. Some cities won’t be covered. Excellent chefs will be overlooked. The guide will make mistakes. It will probably misread New Zealand’s casual dining culture. It will take years to calibrate properly.
All true. None of it changes what matters.
What we actually need - what this entire hysterical debate proves we desperately need - is someone whose job it is to think about food holistically. To connect:
That’s a food strategy. A proper one. With budget, mandate, and accountability.
We don’t have it. We’ve never had it. And we’re not getting it anytime soon while our loudest voices are distracted by the wrong debate.
So when Michelin arrives - a narrow, specific, tourism-focused initiative doing exactly what it’s designed to do - everyone projects their wish list onto it and screams when it can’t deliver everything from social services to domestic media support to mental health care.
As Restaurant Association chief executive Marisa Bidois said: “This is an incredible moment for our sector, and one that will inspire many operators to continue lifting the bar for hospitality in New Zealand.”
That’s it. That’s the entire point. Not perfection. Not salvation. Inspiration and aspiration within a very specific mandate.
If Michelin’s arrival forces a national conversation about how we value, discuss, and systematically support food culture - from paddock to plate to criticism to tourism - then $6.3m will prove to be the bargain of the decade.
The critics are right that we have problems. They’re just wrong about which ones matter.
The real scandal isn’t that Tourism New Zealand spent $6m on Michelin.
It’s that we’re a country of five million people with world-class produce, talented chefs, and passionate food lovers - and we still don’t have anyone whose job it is to connect all the dots.
That’s the gap Michelin exposed. And no amount of screaming about budget lines will fill it.