In the Paris banlieue of Boulogne-Billancourt, in an unprepossessing dark stone building, a French institution has a new address. The Guide Michelin had for decades been headquartered in the ultra-smart 7th arrondissement. But a few months ago, it packed up and moved out of Avenue de Breteuil, one of the most elegant streets in Paris, with its lawns, lime trees and direct view of the golden dome of the Hôtel des Invalides.
On the short walk from the Metro station to the new suburban office, I saw a small boy urinating in the street amid piles of rubbish, in the shadows of several grim-looking blocks of flats. It may have been unfortunate timing but it was difficult not to feel sympathy for the staff of the venerable “red book” – which remains, after more than a century of handing out and taking away good food stars, the arbiter of gastronomic excellence in France and beyond.One person who won’t be visiting this new address is Jean-Luc Naret, who quit as director of the Guide Michelin in December. It’s almost impossible to imagine this flamboyant globetrotter making the trip every morning across the Parisian “frontier” of the périphérique ring road.