The restaurant in question, Ciccia Osteria in Barrio Logan, promoted an upcoming cooking class with the line “learn from our Michelin star restaurant.” In reality, Ciccia Osteria is a Bib Gourmand recipient - a respected accolade recognizing good quality and good value, but not equivalent to a Michelin star. When SanDiegoVille reached out for clarification, chef-owner Mario Cassineri immediately acknowledged the error and explained that the wording was written by a new social media staff member.
He responded with humility, noting, “I apologize - I don’t want to do this. It was a mistake from a new social media person. You know me, I’m always humble and real. I appreciate you bringing it to me,” and generously renewed his invitation for us to visit the restaurant. His quick and sincere clarification illustrates how easily these distinctions can be muddled in a fast-moving digital environment, even by restaurants acting in good faith.
The deeper issue is not Ciccia Osteria’s honest mistake but the increasingly complex Michelin universe in which such misunderstandings now thrive. Michelin’s awards were once straightforward: a restaurant either had one, two, or three stars, or it had none. Today, the Michelin brand encompasses not only stars but Bib Gourmands, “recommended” listings, “new discoveries,” Green Stars for sustainability, Keys for hotels, and soon, Michelin’s newly announced Grapes program for wine producers. Each designation carries meaning, yet the sheer volume of categories has diluted public understanding of what each signifies. Restaurants now often describe themselves simply as “Michelin-recognized,” further blurring the terms and allowing diners to assume star-level prestige where none exists.
Understanding how we arrived here requires revisiting the guide’s origins. The Michelin Guide began in 1900 as a marketing device by the French tire company to encourage more driving - and ultimately, more tire purchases. It offered maps, roadside information, and restaurant recommendations, eventually evolving into a system of anonymous inspections and the now-famed three-star scale.
Understanding how we arrived here requires revisiting the guide’s origins. The Michelin Guide began in 1900 as a marketing device by the French tire company to encourage more driving - and ultimately, more tire purchases. It offered maps, roadside information, and restaurant recommendations, eventually evolving into a system of anonymous inspections and the now-famed three-star scale.
By the mid-20th century, Michelin’s stars had become the most prestigious culinary awards in the world, capable of defining careers and driving global tourism. What hasn’t changed is the guide’s commercial foundation. Michelin has always been, on some level, a branding and marketing venture, and its expansion into hotels, sustainability awards, and tourism partnerships underscores that reality more than ever.
The modern California guide illustrates this dynamic clearly. After Michelin halted its Los Angeles guide in 2010, the state went without Michelin coverage for almost a decade. Its return in 2019 happened only after Visit California, the state’s tourism authority, agreed to pay Michelin approximately $600,000 to revive the guide. Tourism boards in other countries, including Thailand and Singapore, have done the same, investing millions to bring Michelin’s global prestige, and the high-spending diners who follow it, to their local economies. Michelin’s growing footprint is part culinary stewardship, part international marketing strategy.
As Michelin grows, so does the confusion. Stars remain the guide’s top honor and are meant to represent extraordinary cuisine and consistency over time. That is why the Michelin world took notice when Lilo in Carlsbad received a star only six weeks after opening - a virtually unprecedented timeline for a system that claims multiple visits and stability as part of its core philosophy. Michelin explained its decision by pointing to previously strong experiences with chef Eric Bost, but the accelerated timeline raised legitimate questions about how rigidly - or flexibly - Michelin now applies its own criteria, especially when familiar chefs or rising markets are involved.
The modern California guide illustrates this dynamic clearly. After Michelin halted its Los Angeles guide in 2010, the state went without Michelin coverage for almost a decade. Its return in 2019 happened only after Visit California, the state’s tourism authority, agreed to pay Michelin approximately $600,000 to revive the guide. Tourism boards in other countries, including Thailand and Singapore, have done the same, investing millions to bring Michelin’s global prestige, and the high-spending diners who follow it, to their local economies. Michelin’s growing footprint is part culinary stewardship, part international marketing strategy.
As Michelin grows, so does the confusion. Stars remain the guide’s top honor and are meant to represent extraordinary cuisine and consistency over time. That is why the Michelin world took notice when Lilo in Carlsbad received a star only six weeks after opening - a virtually unprecedented timeline for a system that claims multiple visits and stability as part of its core philosophy. Michelin explained its decision by pointing to previously strong experiences with chef Eric Bost, but the accelerated timeline raised legitimate questions about how rigidly - or flexibly - Michelin now applies its own criteria, especially when familiar chefs or rising markets are involved.
San Diego’s Michelin landscape itself reflects how stratified the system has become. The county’s true Michelin-starred restaurants remain few but significant: Addison in Carmel Valley holds an exceptional three stars, making it one of the most decorated restaurants in the country, while Jeune et Jolie and Lilo in Carlsbad, Valle in Oceanside, and Soichi in University Heights each carry a single star. These establishments represent the uppermost echelon of the guide - the level of international acclaim that can redefine a region’s culinary identity.
Beneath them sits a larger group of Bib Gourmand recipients, restaurants recognized for offering high-quality cooking at moderate prices. Ciccia Osteria, Callie, Cesarina, Mabel’s Gone Fishing, Atelier Manna, Lola 55, Morning Glory, Campfire, Juniper & Ivy, and others form the backbone of this tier, reflecting the diversity and accessibility of San Diego’s dining scene. Yet because both stars and Bib Gourmands fall under the broader “Michelin-recognized” umbrella, many diners - and understandably, some restaurants - conflate the categories. The distinction between a star and a Bib Gourmand is enormous, but in the shorthand of social media and marketing, the nuance often disappears, making clarity more essential than ever.
All of this reinforces why accuracy matters when restaurants use Michelin terminology. For chefs who have pursued stars for years, sometimes decades, mislabeling a Bib Gourmand or a recommended listing as anything close to a star undermines the clarity of the system and misrepresents what those restaurants have actually earned. For diners, vague phrases like “Michelin-rated,” “Michelin-recognized,” or “Michelin-star style” create an illusion of prestige that may not match reality. And for Michelin, whose brand equity depends on the sharpness of its categories, overuse of the word “star” risks diluting the currency of its highest award.
Ciccia Osteria handled its mistake with honesty and grace, offering a reminder that these slip-ups often stem from enthusiasm rather than deception. But the incident also reflects the broader challenge restaurants face in navigating a Michelin landscape that is both more influential and more confusing than ever. San Diego’s culinary scene has matured to the point where Michelin recognition in all its forms matters - from stars to Bib Gourmands to new discoveries to just being mentioned in the book or website - and diners deserve clarity about what each category truly means.
SanDiegoVille has reached out to the MICHELIN Guide for comment on guidelines surrounding the use of Michelin terminology in marketing and will update this story if a response is received. What remains clear, however, is that as Michelin continues to expand its influence, precision in language is not just a courtesy but a responsibility - to diners, to chefs, and to the integrity of the awards themselves.
All of this reinforces why accuracy matters when restaurants use Michelin terminology. For chefs who have pursued stars for years, sometimes decades, mislabeling a Bib Gourmand or a recommended listing as anything close to a star undermines the clarity of the system and misrepresents what those restaurants have actually earned. For diners, vague phrases like “Michelin-rated,” “Michelin-recognized,” or “Michelin-star style” create an illusion of prestige that may not match reality. And for Michelin, whose brand equity depends on the sharpness of its categories, overuse of the word “star” risks diluting the currency of its highest award.
Ciccia Osteria handled its mistake with honesty and grace, offering a reminder that these slip-ups often stem from enthusiasm rather than deception. But the incident also reflects the broader challenge restaurants face in navigating a Michelin landscape that is both more influential and more confusing than ever. San Diego’s culinary scene has matured to the point where Michelin recognition in all its forms matters - from stars to Bib Gourmands to new discoveries to just being mentioned in the book or website - and diners deserve clarity about what each category truly means.
SanDiegoVille has reached out to the MICHELIN Guide for comment on guidelines surrounding the use of Michelin terminology in marketing and will update this story if a response is received. What remains clear, however, is that as Michelin continues to expand its influence, precision in language is not just a courtesy but a responsibility - to diners, to chefs, and to the integrity of the awards themselves.
Originally published on December 5, 2025.
