Are Tampa's Michelin-Starred Restaurants Worth the Drive From Sarasota? (2024)

In 2022, the experts at the Michelin Guide, the foremost authority on fine dining, came to Florida to evaluate restaurants in three cities: Tampa, Orlando and Miami. According to The Miami Herald, this was part of a $1.5 million campaign coordinated by Visit Florida and each city’s tourism board to entice Michelin to evaluate the state’s most prestigious dining destinations. Only those cities whose tourism boards coughed up the cash were considered, so other dining hotspots like St. Petersburg, St. Augustine and, of course, Sarasota were not.

The Michelin Guide shares its name with the Michelin tire company, and for good reason, since they are one and the same. The founders of the French tire company created the guide in 1900 as an effort to boost European motor travel, which would, in turn, generate more tire sales.

Today, being part of the guidebook is globally accepted as the most sought-after recognition in the fine-dining world. Restaurants that make the cut are assigned one, two or three stars depending on the judgment of the guide’s anonymous evaluators. Most serious chefs and restaurants strive for this level of recognition—and most will never see a coveted star.

After dining around the state in 2022, Michelin awarded stars to restaurants in Orlando and Miami, but Tampa was left unrecognized. However, in 2023, after the judges returned, the Tampa restaurants Koya, Rocca and Lilac were awarded one star each.

Since Tampa is a mere 50 miles away, I wanted to evaluate these starred restaurants myself. Or maybe I just wanted to get my tastebuds on some of the food that the Michelin judges deemed star-worthy. Either way, I couldn't help but wonder: Is the food good enough to justify a long drive to Tampa just for dinner?

My first visit was to Lilac, inside the Tampa Edition hotel. If you haven’t stayed at the Edition, you must. Food expectations aside, it's an impressive and chic hotel on Channelside Drive. Huge modern light fixtures dangle from the ceiling and illuminate the lobby, a place where local influencers stop by in the evening to snap a selfie on the stark white staircase that leads up to the hotel's two bars. One of them, called The Punch Room, is an intimate rum bar covered in deep-toned wood and adorned with rich velvet curtains and couches. It specializes in, well, punch, and the concoctions are as memorable as the atmosphere, where patrons speak in hushed tones while escaping the hubbub downstairs.

Lilac is situated in the Edition’s lobby, a quick walk from the reservation desk. The dining room is partitioned by lush greenery and cozy booths upholstered in matching green fabric. For $150 per person, guests receive a four-course dinner prepared by chef John Fraser’s team. Up first is a collection of enough amuse-bouche to be called a first course, presented on one plate for the table to share. The pan Lyonnaise, a soft milk bread with caramelized onions, is fresh out of the oven—so fresh that it scorches your fingers a smidge when you tear it apart. The poultry liver mousse, served on a teeny croissant with toasted almonds and a port wine gelée, is rich and creamy—sweet, with an undercurrent of metallic liver, which I love.

The second course features selections like tuna tartare or a diver scallop, but the heritage pork belly and Spanish octopus is the runaway hit. Each protein is expertly prepared and served atop a succotash prepared with 'nduja (a spreadable spicy sausage from the region of Calabria in Italy) that I will dream about for years. The 'nduja contributes a distinct funk that lends complexity and will draw you back for another bite to figure out what exactly it is that you’re tasting.

A roasted Dover sole for the third course is less successful. The fish is prepared well, but over-seasoned. And its side, a separate dish of housemade rigatoni coated in a thin tomato sauce, is not only disjointed from the rest of the dish, it’s raw. The flavor of flour is still palpable, an indicator that the dough may not have rested long enough for the flour to fully hydrate. Another dish in this course, Ōra King salmon with stone crab pommes fondantes and steamed spinach balls, not only looks like it came from the IKEA cafeteria, it tastes like it. Nothing is seasoned, everything is lukewarm and even the plating is unimaginative, with a thin sliver of salmon on the left and blobs of fondantes and spinach to the right, all in a muted color palette.

Dessert, however, is a revelation. If the caramelized honey is available when you dine, order it. Essentially a honey and white chocolate bombe, it's subtly sweet, with white chocolate that complements the honey notes as if they’ve been friends for years. Overall, the meal is memorable and worthy of a visit, but, next time, I’ll be skipping the fish and trying something meatier—perhaps the duck au poivre.

Over at Koya, an eight-seat omakase restaurant in Hyde Park, the food is incredible but the price tag is steep. For $295 per person, guests are invited to enjoy 14-15 small courses while they watch sushi pros prepare their next bite. Chef Eric Fralick oversees it all, nodding in approval and chatting with guests. It’s a quiet dining experience, but each chef is happy to engage with you while they work, explaining different ingredients and what flavors they lend to the dish.

It's all about quality ingredients here, with items like tuna and uni (sea urchin) from Japan’s famed Toyosu market flown in weekly. Each course, like a Japanese whiskey-soaked wagyu and four courses of nigiri, is more surprising than the one before. Still, I can’t get past the price tag. For comparison, Sushi Yasuda in New York also has one Michelin star, and an 18-course omakase there, in Manhattan, will run you $180. For a more affordable rendition of Fralick's culinary genius, stop by his more approachable and spacious spot,Noble Rice on Channelside Drive, where a generous dinner for two clocked in at $350.

That said, Fralick and his teamdodo amazing things, and this was the best meal I ate in my research. King crab mixed with mascarpone cheese and rested atop a vinegar-powder-dusted potato chip is only made better with a heap of caviar. It’s low- and high-brow all at once, and a bite I’ll never forget. The uni, an ingredient I’ve always hated, wins me over immediately when it is served atop shokupan (Japanese milk bread) with brown butter, balsamic vinegar and apples.

In comparison, Kōsen, one of Tampa’s newest Michelin-starred spots and another omakase specialist, struggles to hit its stride. The flavors are much more straightforward and lean heavily on Japanese simplicity. Out of 20 courses (priced at $280 per person), seven are nigiri, and those seven bites are the best of the evening, particularly the mackerel.

One standout course aside from the nigiri is a tiny whole crab no bigger than 2 inches. It’s deep-fried in its shell, with no breading, and is served with warm eel and tartare tuna belly topped with caviar. Chef Wei Chen announces that everyone needs to put the whole crab in their mouth in one pop. I’m not sure why I’m scared—perhaps I don’t trust the shell is soft enough. But my fear evaporates as I bite down on the crustacean. It’s like crabby popcorn. I wish the rest of the meal exhibited the same flare.

Chen is ever-present throughout the evening, and is jovial and engaging while he prepares your multi-course meal. He laughs with diners, displays ingredients for brag-worthy photos to put on your Instagram, and has loads of zingers at the ready. His presence is as vital to the experience as the food, and I’d love the chance to call him my friend.

On another quick staycation, this time to the Tampa Epicurean Hotel across the street from the famed Bern's Steak House, the accommodations are less like a place where influencers flock to and more like somewhere you go to when you want to escape from it all. The property has a boutique feel, with a small lobby bar and a nice pool tucked in the back on the first floor. It’s warm and inviting, centrally located and an ideal place to lay my head after dining at Rocca.

Rocca is located near Armature Works, the behemoth food hall in Seminole Heights. The restaurant is led by chef Bryce Bonsack and evangelizes all things Italian. Servers even make fresh mozzarella tableside ($46), a steamy, stretchy sight to behold.

At Rocca, the menu is à la carte, meaning there is no set price, and I’m finally free to build my own meal—and at a friendly price. A broccolini starter ($17) is charred and made savory by way of black garlic and 'nduja (apparently Tampa's hottest ingredient). Roasted winter squash cuts through the bitter char and rounds out the dish for a complex and hearty bite.

A fried shrimp appetizer ($25), however, is unsuccessful. The shrimp are sunk into an herbed beurre blanc in which the wine hasn’t completely burned off, and then draped with speck (smoked prosciutto), which, in turn, steams the shrimp’s battered exterior. Everything is soft and nothing is right.

The pasta course, though, is life-changing.I visited Italy often as a child, thanks to an Italian American stepfather who was also an airline pilot. As a result, I have high standards when dining Italian, and Rocca met them with its pasta.

Spaghetti al limone ($39) is tossed with what appears to be several crabs' worth of meat and little slivers of zucchini. I’m unsure if there is more crab or more pasta, but I do know that I want more of it all, frequently. Not because the portions are small (they’re not), but because it tastes that good, with plenty of crab and zippy lemon to keep you coming back.

Agnolotti ($27), meanwhile, are stuffed with calabrese salami and ricotta and tossed with bursting cherry tomatoes and crispy breadcrumbs. I’ve never thought to put salami inside stuffed pasta, and for that, I am sad, because the result is phenomenal. It's salty, creamy, sweet and acidic, all at the same time. A scoop of pistachio gelato ($12) doused with honey and toasted nuts brings my night to an end.

Ebbe, another 2024 Michelin addition, is superb. Chef Ebbe Vollmer moved to Tampa when his wife was offered a job there. He left behind his homeland of Sweden and his restaurant there, Vollmers, which has two Michelin stars. Thankfully, his brother stayed behind to man the ship.

Stateside, Ebbe showcases Scandinavian technique for $135 per person for a six-course “discovery menu” or 13 courses for $295. He creates dishes that feel simple, clean and straightforward, but you know they have taken enormous effort. A dish of green peas is served with a subtle horseradish mousse beneath it and is finished with caviar and nasturtium leaves. Looking at it, it’s just a bowl of peas, but the server explains that each pea is painstakingly peeled to elevate the purity of the pea flavor. It’s heaven.

A pheasant course, meanwhile, is difficult to describe, but I’ll try. To make it, pheasant breast is enrobed in a pheasant mousse and bruleéd. It’s accompanied by a large morel mushroom that is stuffed with the same mousse and finished with a deeply savory velouté fragranced with star anise and sprinkled with bee pollen. It’s transformational; a must-try.

The service, too, is exceptional. Our server stayed with us throughout the evening, conversing, recommending pairings and anticipating any needs. He was always there, but I never sensed him, and when he did make himself known, I was grateful. Honestly, it might have been the best service I’ve experienced in my life.

So, worth the drive? I say yes. Tampa has shown its ability to push culinary bounds and secured its right to Michelin’s attention. One of the chefs hinted that Michelin has extended agreed to assess the area for another three years. I can’t wait to see what comes next.