I didn’t expect to be at Disney this time of year, but an impromptu getaway to Palm Beach opened the door to a last-minute reservation at Victoria & Albert’s for my parents’ 29th wedding anniversary. The moment we stepped into the Grand Floridian, a rush of childhood memories washed over me—the bright, inviting lobby, the gentle melody of the lobby pianist, and excited kids running around with their Mickey Mouse ice cream bars. Having walked past Victoria & Albert’s countless times before, I’d always dismissed it as another tourist trap. Yet, in 2024 they secured their first Michelin star—the only one awarded within a theme park resort—so we decided to give it a chance. In the end, I was more than pleasantly surprised.

Before dinner, we relaxed over cocktails in one of the resort’s lounges when the head of house came by and personally escorted us to the restaurant, introducing us to the staff along the way. Soon after, we were greeted by Israel Pérez—recipient of the 2024 Michelin Guide Florida Service Award—whose warm presence made us feel immediately at ease. Admittedly, there was a slight disconnect in the overall ambience. Still, everyone was gracious, but in the back of my mind I kept thinking there was an odd push-and-pull in the atmosphere: the meticulous orchestration of hospitality at odds with a certain casualness. Perhaps the wooden table extension felt like a misplaced prop, or maybe the dining room’s energy simply lacked an organic pulse.

When we finally settled in, personalized envelopes revealed two menu options: seven courses for ($295) or ten courses for ($375), alongside wine pairings priced at ($155) and ($210). I opted for the larger format and accompanying wines. A dedicated water menu, while impressive, struck me as theatrical—even pretentious. Partway through, a harpist appeared, weaving classical melodies into the low hum of conversation. It was pleasant enough, though I couldn’t help suspecting it was more spectacle than soul. Regardless, I was eager to see how the night would end—and whether this restaurant deserved the star they received.

Now that we were fully settled, the initial tastes of the evening arrived in a series of delicate bites: a butternut squash and raisin tart, a pumpkin-infused chawanmushi, an acorn-and-gjetost morsel, and a sweet-salty kabocha (think of a much sweeter butternut squash) creation. Each offered a subtle interplay of sweetness and earthiness, hinting at the kitchen’s autumnal leanings (which I found a bit odd as it was March). Collectively, they marked a pleasant, if not revelatory, opening to the meal. (8.1 /10)

The first course arrived in the form of a caviar presentation, crowned by a delicate cocoa tuile that added a subtle crunch. This textural interplay shone brightest when cracked and mixed alongside the mezcal-infused avocado sorbet and oyster panna cotta—a combination that laced brininess with a flash of acidity and a gentle sweetness. It was a striking and a promising start to the night’s progression. (8.5 /10)

Next came a dish I hadn’t anticipated: cucumbers, Norwegian king crab, and black sesame. Presented with razor-thin cucumber slices draped over succulent crab, I initially wondered how this modest pairing could deliver impact. But the crab’s freshness, a subtle acidity, and the gentle crunch of cucumber coalesced into something unexpectedly vibrant. It was easily a standout course—an understated composition that belied just how deeply satisfying it turned out to be. (9.1 /10)

Next arrived a fish I’d never encountered before: Glacier 51 Toothfish, sourced from some of the most remote waters on Earth. (Funny enough, I would have it again later in the trip—both instances courtesy of Disney’s fine dining scene.) Presented in a lustrous, Cedar Key clam broth reminiscent of a delicate consommé, the dish also featured tender leeks that underscored the fish’s sweet, maritime character topped with caviar. Cooked sous-vide to a buttery flake, it dissolved on the palate, paired beautifully with the 2022 Pouilly-Vinzelles white burgundy. The overall effect was superb and deeply comforting—easily one of the evening’s most memorable dishes. (9.6 /10)

After such a high, we reached an unexpected low. The diver scallops were cooked flawlessly—perfectly seared and tender—but the surrounding flavors felt disjointed. Black truffle, heirloom apples, and Iberico lardo all vied for attention, overshadowing the scallops’ natural sweetness. The sauce, meanwhile, leaned heavily savory in a way that clashed with the dish’s lighter elements. Despite the technical precision, it was a course that didn’t quite find its balance. (7.2 /10)

After, we were presented with a simple yet satisfying bread course: a fragrant focaccia paired with peppery, high-quality olive oil and dollops of aged balsamic vinegar. It was understated but spot-on—proof that even the smallest, simplest offerings can leave a big impression. (8.8 /10)

Next came a beautifully cooked Rohan duck, its fat rendered to a satisfying crisp. The sweet, tangy sauce—derived from Grand Marnier—was paired with pickled daikon, an unexpected but surprisingly harmonious touch. While not the most memorable dish of the night, it showcased solid technique and a confident hand in the kitchen—good cooking, plain and simple. (8.0 /10)

The Colorado lamb dish stood out as truly exceptional. Braised for what I believe was over 12 hours, it delivered one of the most tender bites of lamb I’ve ever tasted. The black garlic and the fried lacinato kale complemented the rich, savory depth perfectly. My only wish was for a slightly bigger portion, though I realize the richness demanded restraint. (8.4 /10)

If you ask the average diner what defines “fine dining,” caviar, truffles, and A5 wagyu inevitably come to mind. The A-5 miyazaki wagyu here was indeed tender and flavorful, yet I couldn’t help yearning for something a bit more adventurous—perhaps squab or pigeon, ingredients that reflect a chef’s willingness to push boundaries. Still, we are in Disney World; the dish was good, just not particularly revelatory. (8.0 /10)

With the savory courses behind us, the meal shifted to a dessert interlude that still hinted at savoriness. The spotlight landed on Purple Haze chèvre, balanced by a guava base subtly infused with Reypenear VSOP—a clever bridge between sweet and salty. Alongside it came a playful twist on a classic snack: a “Gouda Cheez-It” scaled up to about twenty times its usual size, both whimsical to behold and unexpectedly delicious. It was a distinctive, lighthearted way to ease into the evening’s sweet finale. (8.6 /10)

I must note, however, that the accompanying dessert wine—Vin Santo del Chianti Classico (2022, if I recall correctly)—was one of the bigger letdowns I’ve experienced in a pairing. It was far too young, lacking the depth and maturity needed to complement the flavors of the dish. Not the most satisfying way to close out an otherwise thoughtful menu.

One of my favorite desserts of the year arrived next: a roasted banana and malted milk creation infused with whiskey. Layered with notes of peanut butter, a touch of salt, and just the right amount of sweetness, it was a harmonious blend of flavors that ticked all the boxes. There’s little else to say besides this: they should keep this dessert on the menu indefinitely. (9.2 /10)

The final course arrived as a Floridian nod to the humble grapefruit (a powerful yet delicate sauce), layered with tangerine and elderflower. Though I’m typically wary of heavy citrus notes in desserts, the sweetness here counterbalanced the tang, making for a brilliant conclusion. It was bright, refreshing, and an elegant way to close the evening. (8.6 /10)

I admit, I was skeptical at the outset—Disney’s Grand Floridian nabbing a Michelin star seemed almost implausible. But once I tasted that cucumber-and-king-crab course, I realized the kitchen was working at a higher level. Admittedly, there’s room to refine the experience beyond the plate: the lighting felt off, the bathrooms and signage betrayed a generic hotel vibe, and the overall flow lacked seamlessness. Still, the cuisine itself felt worthy of a two-star standard, and you definitely pay a premium for it.

For anyone in Orlando, I’d suggest experiencing Victoria & Albert’s at least once. My parents’ company made the night even more special—drinking good wine, trading stories, joking with the staff, and asking the harpist to play a few favorites. We left with homemade chocolate chip cookies and petit fours (7.8 /10) (the former delightful, the latter less so), but overall, Disney deserves a nod for stepping up its culinary game. Bravo, indeed.