How Cue Scores

You can’t fairly judge Popeyes against a neighborhood fried chicken spot just because they both sell fried chicken. They’re not trying to be the same thing. So I score every place against places like it: same kind of spot, same kind of price, same kind of service. I’ve eaten this way for years. Now it’s written down.

Not everything on this site is a scored review. Some posts are stories, essays, recipes, or a meal I just wanted to write about. When a post does carry a score, here’s what it means, what it’s measured against, and the rules I hold myself to.

A score reads like this:

You know what it was measured against before you argue with me.

Class is what a place promises. The score is how well it delivers. A fine-dining room with lazy service is still fine dining; it just scores lower for it.

What the numbers mean

Higher is better. A 9 or 10 means go out of your way. A 5 or 6 means some good, some not. A 1 or 2 means stay away.

Bands are judged within the class. A 9 means one of my favorites of its kind, whatever that kind is.

9.0–10 Exceptional. One of my favorites in its class, worth going out of your way for.

7.0–8.9 Recommended, with qualifications. Real strengths, real flaws.

5.0–6.9 Mixed. Something’s working, something isn’t. A 6.3 isn’t a failing grade. It’s “good food, frustrating edges.” Read the review, not just the number, because that’s where the actual verdict lives.

3.0–4.9 Below expectations. I’d steer you elsewhere.

1.0–2.9 Serious shortcomings. A warning, not a review.

Scores and recommendations

The number is how good the whole visit was. “Order this” points to the one dish worth getting, even at a place with a low score.

A score is a measurement. A recommendation is my judgment. A restaurant can earn a 6.8 and still serve one of my favorite dishes in the city, and I won’t inflate the number to say so. When a dish is worth the trip on its own, the review calls it out under Order this, separate from the score.

What it’s measured against

I only compare a place to places like it. Apples to apples.

A score means nothing without its comparison. A taco cart and a tasting menu aren’t the same conversation, and neither are Church’s Chicken and the family-run chicken spot down the street. Putting them on the same ladder is unfair to both. So every place I score gets two labels, and the score is judged within them.

What’s a class?

A class is the group a restaurant plays in, like a sports league. Fast-food chains play other fast-food chains. A taco cart plays other taco carts.

A restaurant’s class is its category plus its scale. Category is the kind of meal. Scale is who owns it and how it’s run. Together they set the standard I judge it against.

Church’s, Popeyes and KFC are all quick service and corporate chains, so they’re scored against each other. Tam’s goes up against Steve’s, not Wendy’s. Same food, different class.

No class is better than another. A 10 means nothing I’ve had in its class beats it, not that it beats every restaurant everywhere.

Category: what kind of meal it is

What kind of meal is it? A quick bite, a sit-down dinner or a fancy night out.

• Street food: Carts, trucks, stalls, hawker stands, market vendors, and places that serve it the same way under a roof. Some of my favorite food on earth is eaten standing up.
• Quick service: You order at a counter or a window. Fast food and fast casual.
• Diner and family dining: Someone takes your order, it’s affordable, and comfort is the point. Waffle House, Denny’s, IHOP, Cracker Barrel.
• Casual and full service: A sit-down restaurant where the service brings what you order.
• Fine dining: The service runs the meal: paced, explained, anticipated, and booked ahead. Price, fame and awards don’t decide it.
• Specialty: Bakeries, cafés, dessert shops, and bars that serve food. Each is judged against its own kind, and the score names it. A bakery goes up against bakeries, not restaurants.

When a place could fit two, how it serves you decides. Tacos from a window you eat standing up are street food, even under a roof. The same tacos with a menu board, trays and tables are quick service.

Scale: who’s behind it and how it’s run

Who owns it? A big company with stores everywhere, a local group with a few spots, or one owner running their own place.

Scale is defined by ownership and operating model, not by how many locations a place has.

• Corporate chain: National or multinational, centrally run, built so every location delivers the same experience.
• Regional: A standardized multi-location brand rooted in one city or region and part of its identity. In-N-Out. Harold’s.
• Independent: Owner-operated. A family stall, a mom-and-pop shop, or a chef running their own rooms. A chef with several distinct restaurants is still independent. A concept copied location to location is a chain. A restaurant group’s one-off concept counts as independent too. Money behind a place doesn’t change its class; it shows up in the score.

Peter Luger is Independent. It’s a family-owned steakhouse with a few rooms, not a brand that outgrew its owners. Counting locations doesn’t decide scale; who runs the place does. By the same rules it’s Casual, not fine dining: famous and expensive, but you order it all at once.

Comparing across classes

I don’t race a bike against a car. If I compare two different kinds of places, I’ll tell you why.

Most of the time, I don’t. A corporate chain and an independent spot are different conversations. When a comparison across classes is worth making, I’ll say so, explain the difference, and tell you why they don’t belong on the same scale.

The exception is fine dining. At that level, an independent room and a big-name chef’s restaurant compete for the same diner at the same price, so they can go head to head. Lower down, a chain promises the same meal everywhere and an independent promises its own. At fine dining, both promise the same thing: the whole evening, run by the room, at the top of the bill. The review will always name which is which.

The four parts

I score four things: the food, how they treated me, the room, and whether it was worth the money. They all count the same.

A full review breaks into Food, Service, Ambiance, and Value, each rated from 1 to 10 and averaged equally. The overall score measures the entire experience, not just the food. That’s deliberate. Equal weighting keeps the math simple, and it keeps me honest: I can’t quietly reweight things for a place I happen to love.

Overall scores are published to one decimal place. The math stays exact until the final step, then rounds half up, so 6.25 becomes 6.3.

When I eat on site, all four parts count at every level. What changes is what “good” looks like. Takeout, delivery and single-item reviews have their own rules below.

Food: Does it nail what it’s trying to be? A great street taco and a great tasting menu both earn a 10 when they hit what they’re aiming for.

Service: It always matters. I’ve said it publicly at the risk of sounding like a snob, and I’ll keep saying it.

• Street food: how the vendor handles a line, speed, and how they treat you.
• Quick service: attitude, speed, and getting the order right. Church’s counter staff measured against Chick-fil-A’s.
• Diner: attentive without hovering. Nobody needs a check-in every 30 seconds.
• Casual: warm, informed, paced to the table.
• Fine dining: anticipation. Reading the table, the plate, and the moment without being asked.

Ambiance:

• Street food: the setting. The corner, the market, the energy of the place.
• Quick service: clean and comfortable is the bar.
• Diner: character and comfort.
• Casual: a room that fits the food.
• Fine dining: whether the room creates something. A culture, not a costume.

Value: Would I pay this again? What I got against what I paid, with what this kind of meal usually costs where I’m eating as the context. A $6 plate in Bangkok and a $6 plate in Los Angeles aren’t the same deal.

What the $ signs mean

The dollar signs tell you how much it costs. The Value score tells you if it was worth it.

The price range is what one person can expect to spend on a meal, before tax and tip. It’s set from the per-person figure Google shows for the restaurant, checked against what I actually paid.

• $: under $15
• $$: $15 to under $30
• $$$: $30 to under $60
• $$$$: $60 and up

Price is not the score. Value asks whether I’d pay it again. An expensive place can score high on Value, and a cheap one can score low.

How each part gets its number

I don’t pick numbers cold. For each part I answer a question in plain words. Food, service and the room are judged against others in the same class. Value is one question: would I pay this again?

That answer sets the whole number. Then I say how strong it was. Flat is the number itself, low adds .2, mid adds .5 and high adds .8. A high 7 is 7.8, a flat 7 is 7.0, and a 10 is just a 10.

The overall is the average of the parts, rounded to one decimal.

I lock the scores at the table, with the time. If I change one later, the original stays on record.

Against others in its class: food, service, the room

• 10 Nothing I’ve had in this class beats it.
• 9 I’d make the trip just for this.
• 8 I’d send someone here over somewhere else.
• 7 Good. I’d stop if I’m nearby, but I won’t go out of my way.
• 6 Just above average for the class.
• 5 Average for the class. Fine, forgettable.
• 4 Below average. Something was off.
• 3 Let down. Missed more than it hit.
• 2 Bad. I’d steer people away.
• 1 Failed at the basics.

Value: would I pay this again?

• 10 A steal. I’d happily pay more.
• 9 Yes, gladly, even if it cost a bit more.
• 8 Yes, at this price, no hesitation.
• 7 Yes, at this price, but that’s about the most I’d pay.
• 6 Probably, if I’m in the area.
• 5 Maybe. It costs what it costs.
• 4 Probably not at this price.
• 3 No. Not worth it.
• 2 No, and I’d warn people about the price.
• 1 Felt like a ripoff.

Special formats and revisits

Takeout gets judged on what shows up in the bag. If I go back, the newest visit’s score goes on top.

Special formats

• Single items: When I review one dish or a limited-time menu item instead of a whole restaurant, it gets a Food score only, labeled as an item review, and judged against its own kind: a burger against burgers, a shake against shakes. Item scores never get mixed in with restaurant scores.
• Pop-ups and supper clubs: Scored in the category they operate as and labeled as pop-ups, since they may not be around when you read this.
• Takeout: If I picked it up myself, Service is scored on the pickup: how I was treated, how long it took, and whether the order was right. Ambiance isn’t scored.
• Delivery: If it came through a delivery service, the review scores Food, Service, and Value on what the restaurant controls, like packaging, accuracy, and how the food held up. Problems caused by a third-party driver get mentioned but don’t count against the restaurant. Ambiance isn’t scored.

For takeout and delivery, the overall average uses only the parts that were scored.

Going back

Restaurants change, so scores aren’t permanent. Every scored visit gets its own date. The number at the top of a review is my most recent scored visit, and past ones stay listed underneath so you can see whether a place is getting better or slipping. If a review covers more than one visit, it’ll say so.

Standards and independence

Nobody can pay me for a score. If a meal was free, I tell you up top. If I was paid, there’s no score.

Knowing what I know

I know some cuisines down to the bone and others I’m still learning. When I’m reviewing outside what I know deeply, I’ll tell you, and I’ll weigh what the people who grew up on that food think of the place.

Editorial independence

Restaurants, sponsors, and anyone representing them can’t buy favorable coverage, approve or edit a review, or request a particular score. Factual corrections, like a wrong address, hours, or a chef’s name, are always welcome and will be fixed.

Comps and sponsorships

I accept hosted meals, tastings, and invitations, and I pay my own way too. When a visit was hosted, invited, or paid, a disclosure box at the top of the post says exactly what kind of arrangement it was:

• Media invitation: a publicist or agency arranged the visit, and I paid for the meal.
• Hosted meal: the restaurant or an agency provided the meal or experience. No payment was received for coverage.
• Paid partnership: I was paid to produce the feature.

Paid features don’t carry a score. A complimentary meal may get me a table. It doesn’t buy what I say after I leave it. Hosted meals can carry a score, judged by the same rules as everything else, with the disclosure right on top so you can weigh it for yourself. Paid features can still tell you what I liked and what to order, but there’s no number on them.

This system has a date

Scoring system updated October 2026. When it launched, every scored review on the site was brought under these rules, so everything you read here is measured the same way. If the system changes again, the date changes with it, and older scores will say which rules they were given under.