Hats off to Hypocrisy
The Good Food Guide scandal, Ben Shewry, and Merivale
Conflict of Interest Disclaimer: I am presently an employee of NOMAD. I discuss real events concerning this group and others which affect me as an employee and a member of the broader industry. My opinions are my own and not affiliated with NOMAD. Please reach out if you have concerns about the integrity of my writing concerning this issue.
If you don’t know Ben Shewry, you should. I first encountered his work through Netflix’s Chef’s Table, and this year dined at his Melbourne restaurant, Attica. One of Australia’s few three-hatted venues*—a distinction akin to a Michelin star in The Good Food Guide—Attica offered an unforgettable introduction to fine dining. But this week, Shewry shocked the industry, publicly announcing that he would not attend The Good Food Guide Awards.
“Keep your hats,” he writes, “we don’t want to benefit from a broken system.”
This bold rejection sent shockwaves through Australia’s hospitality scene, drawing over 500 (largely supportive) comments. Shewry’s decision resonates with a growing discontent among industry professionals, but to understand why, we need context.
Exposing A Broken System
In 2024, allegations of serious misconduct engulfed two of Australia’s most prominent hospitality groups: Swillhouse and Sydney’s Merivale. For Swillhouse, accusations ranged from forcing female staff out of the company after reporting sexual assaults to encouraging staff to engage with patrons inappropriately.
Merivale’s revelations were, if anything, worse. At its exclusive Ivy Penthouse venue, one manager described the environment as “one step away from a brothel”. Multiple accounts allege that female staff—often young and inexperienced—were pressured into inappropriate relationships with patrons. The sheer scale of allegations across Merivale properties is staggering.
Yet this year, The Good Food Guide awarded six Merivale restaurants hats. To compound the irony, it was The Sydney Morning Herald, owner of The Good Food Guide, that reported on these stories. The same publication that investigated exploitation within Merivale celebrated its venues a month later.
This inconsistency leaves a sour taste, particularly when contrasted with the treatment of Reine and La Rue, a Melbourne venue stripped of its two-hat status earlier this year after its former co-owner held a swastika aloft at a pro-Palestine protest. Was the removal justified? The industry is at odds. But it highlights the guide’s ethical double standards. If the presence of hate symbols warrants exclusion, why are venues linked to systemic abuse still being celebrated?
Biting Back: Shewry and Rodell
Not everyone has supported Shewry’s stance. In an article entitled “We know Ben Shewry doesn’t like The Good Food Guide. And we don’t care”, Good Food Guide chief critic Besha Rodell pushes back.
Rodell starts by conceding that “no industry or publication is perfect. No scoring system unimpeachable.” However, her measured tone quickly gives way to a series of ad hominem attacks. Rodell accuses Shewry of self-promotion, implying that his critique serves book sales and publicity rather than genuine concern. She also laments that his post “[casts a cloud over this year’s winners],” a curious choice of priorities given the gravity of the allegations.
In addressing Shewry’s concerns about the guide’s ethical framework, Rodell’s defence is disappointingly vague: “[The claim that our] editors and reviewers do this work without thought or ethical consideration is, quite simply, patently untrue.” The timing of her rebuttal, however, coincides awkwardly with Merivale’s six hat wins.
The Merivale problem is at the heart of Shewry’s critique. In his book Uses for Obsession, his wife Kylie outlines her experiences of sexual harassment within the industry. In the post, Shewry shares that “the editor of another restaurant guide [sent] threats to my wife, telling us not to come to the state they manage a guide in.” It’s unclear whether this refers to The Good Food Guide. Kylie’s experiences are echoed in the new narratives we’re hearing about Merivale and Swillhouse, and in the stories we tell at the bar after work.
Rodell’s article concludes with a rhetorical flourish, asking why Shewry felt justified in “[stealing] that moment of joy from an industry that direly needs positivity right now.”
Where was this indignation when reports of abuse and exploitation emerged? Where is the outrage for the young women allegedly harmed in venues now celebrated for their “excellence”? And how can they claim their work makes a positive impact when victims of abusers watch accolades poured upon venues which harmed them?
A Call for Change
Shewry’s critique has struck a nerve, tapping into an undercurrent of frustration within the industry. His call for accountability isn’t just about The Good Food Guide—it’s about demanding a hospitality culture that values its workers as much as its diners. Rodell may insist that guidelines exist, but are they enough? You can read them here and decide for yourself.
Guidelines that allow perpetrators of systemic abuse to operate with impunity are not guidelines—they are enablers. The most influential restaurant guide in the country must do better. It must foster an environment where restaurants can thrive without exploitation, where accolades reward not just culinary excellence but also ethical responsibility.
Right now, the industry feels bleak. The malcontent Shewry voiced is shared by many, myself included. But out of this, we can demand change, from our restaurants and the institutions that critique them. Shewry may not have all the answers, but he’s asked the right questions. It’s time for the rest of us to demand better—from ourselves, from our peers, and from the systems that shape our industry.
*Attica previously boasted 3 hats, but from 2024 they were demoted to 2 hats. Rodell makes sure to mention this in her critique: “Many of us are happy with systems that work for us until they cease that utility.”