Dealing With Critical Feedback, or How To Take A Sucker Punch to the Gut

Author: Marshall Schott


We’ve all been there– you spend hours designing a recipe, even more time making the wort, pitching your yeast starter, controlling fermentation temps, then packaging and storing it well. You wait an appropriate amount of time anxiously anticipating that first sample, when the time comes the heavens open up, wrap you in a hoppy hug as the angels gloriously sing praises to your brewing prowess. It’s exactly as you imagined, beautifully balanced, no butterscotch or grassy flavors with a gorgeous white cap of foam that never fades. Now, all you can think about is sharing it with others, perhaps even entering it into a competition. And so you do. Samples are poured for your brew club compadres, some of whom are BJCP judges, others who you’ve learned to trust know what the hell they’re talking about. You gaze proudly as they bring small glasses first to their noses then to their lips, sublimating the very real nervousness we all experience in instances like this into phony smiles and awkward glances. Then it happens. First one taster, then another. A small grimace, a look of concern, perhaps even a “hrmph” that sounds 100 decibels louder in your head than it was in reality. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks.

They don’t love it.

This is an unfortunate scenario I imagine every homebrewer can relate to on some level, similar to receiving a competition scoresheet with a score much lower than you expected and comments that don’t jibe with your perception of the beer you entered. It sucks. There’s no getting around the fact that something you created and thought was great wasn’t received well by others. It just sucks. The focus of this article isn’t on how to improve your beer or refine your palate, I’m probably not the best person to dole out that advice, but rather how to make receiving negative feedback suck just a little less.

Tips for Dealing With Critical Feedback

Practice Humility

Did you know that fully half of all the beer you make is going to be below average? This is a statistical absolute. Ponder that for a minute, let it really sink in. Not every batch you brew is going to be your best, it’s not possible. Bearing this in mind, before you enter a beer into a competition or share it with a friend, prior to even making a batch, take a look in the mirror, stare the reflected version of you in the eyes and say aloud:

I am not perfect, at times I suck, and that’s okay. 

That’s right, you suck, so do I, at least sometimes, and that’s perfectly fine. Once we get to a place where we can accept that we are no better than anyone else, and they’re no better than us, we free ourselves from the burden of meeting our own self-ascribed high expectations. If before even milling grain for a batch I spent a few hours designing I tell myself it may not turn out all that good, I’m already mentally preparing myself to cope with negative feedback from others, even if I end up really liking the beer myself. Personally, I believe humility is a character trait many of us could use some work on, present company included, and the only way to integrate it into who I am is through regular practice.

Do not mistake humility for self-deprecating diffidence. There’s little less appealing to me than being around someone lacking totally in self-confidence, that person who, every time they share a beer, is sure to prepare me for disappointment. I’ll admit that in these situations, I usually give in and validate the brewer, even if I actually like their beer. It’s not my place to convince someone their beer is better than they think.

Accept that Preference is Subjective

First, what this doesn’t mean: please do not use the subjectivity of individual preference as an excuse to become defensive and resistant to change– if the majority of people you share your beer with detect diacetyl, it may be worth considering adapting a part of your process. What I’m referring to is the idea that we all experience what we sense just a bit differently. Okay, that seems a bit presumptuous. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that there’s no way to know that my experience of a flavor or aroma exactly matches that of another person’s, all we have are words to describe what we sense, there’s no valid test to prove that experience is shared. Now, I’m certainly no Solipsist, but I fully believe that what I think is good another person may not, and whether there’s genuinely something wrong with the beer or not, preferences bias people. Which is okay, we’re all affected by this stuff, and reminding ourselves of this may help to assuage some of the negative feelings associated with receiving less than stellar reviews of our beer.

Be the First to Notice the Flaws

Making beer requires quite an investment of time, energy, and money. Even if you ferment quick and burst carb in a keg, most beers won’t be ready for at minimum a week, while those who bottle condition are looking at even longer times. During all of this waiting, we’ve expended massive amounts of mental energy talking ourselves out of a million concerns– Is it infected? Did I pitch enough yeast? Was my grain bill complex enough? Is it going to carbonate correctly? Is it… infected?! It’s no wonder by the time the beer is finally ready to consume, we all think it’s second only to our favorite commercial version. As humans, our natural self-preserving tendency is to notice the good in what we do while looking past those things that could use a little help. What I would suggest is, after enjoying that first glorious pint, take a step back, mentally separate yourself from your creation, and remind yourself that your opinion is hugely influenced by your current emotional state. Whenever you’re ready, sit down with another pint of this beer and approach it from the perspective of a snooty judge who gets off on pointing out only what’s wrong. Be very intentional in your observation of even barely noticeable flaws and come up with some good potential reasons for them being present. Now, if you share with a friend and they like it, you’re good to go, you might even point out a few of your concerns; in those cases where someone does notice an issue, even if it’s different than what you noted, you’re well prepared to at least engage in a constructive conversation.

Friend: The beer is pretty good, I like the hop character, but the body really seems to be lacking.

Prepared You: Thanks, I like it too. You know, I agree that the body is a little thinner than it could be, which makes it almost too easy for me to drink, maybe next time I’ll bump the mash temp up a couple degrees. 

Not only does this contribute to one’s sense of humility, but it also allows one to be more comfortably honest when sharing their beer.

Do Not Take Things Personally

I’ve jokingly said in the past that a person’s evaluation of my beer is probably analogous to their evaluation of me as a person. The truth is, I am not my beer, I’m just the person who spent a few hours throwing ingredients together and waiting for it to become beer. If it ends up being flawed in some way and someone is honest enough to point it out, I don’t overlay their evaluation of my beer onto me as a person. How annoying would it be if the people you shared your beer with felt compelled to lie to you because they were afraid of hurting your feelings? As much as I enjoy being around people and trying their beer, I’m most uncomfortable when I feel like I have tiptoe around their emotions. Learning to appreciate the honesty of others rather than taking their opinions as a personal attack will not only make you more pleasant to be around, but could contribute to your becoming a better brewer by integrating their feedback.

There are some people who seem to get off on only pointing out flaws, taking it as a badge of pride, a symbol of their superior beer tasting skills when they pick up an off-flavor that no one else notices.  These are usually very knowledgable people who understand that a common flaw in English beer is diacetyl, Pilsner malt has more DMS precursor than standard 2-row, and acetaldehyde is not pronounced acetyl-aldehyde. They are great to have around when you want to know something and don’t feel like Googling it yourself or you’re in the mood for geeking out on some esoteric brewing method, I choose to accept them for this while ignoring their overly negative and usually inaccurate evaluations of my beer.

You Get What You Give

Kindness begets kindness. Similarly, being a dick to others usually results in others being a dick to you. At some point, society began reinforcing the idea that being mean and demeaning to others is cool, I call this the American Idol effect and it really just makes people come across as insecure buttheads. Honesty does not an asshole require, critical feedback can be provided in a friendly manner. If when you’re critiquing someone’s beer you do it in a considerate manner, chances they’re going to approach evaluations of your beer similarly. One technique that works well for providing constructive criticism is referred to as the compliment sandwich where you provide a compliment followed by the criticism then finish with another compliment. These guys explain it well (do not watch with kids or bosses present):

In those instances where I start to feel offended by someone’s evaluation, I take that as an indicator to check myself, as it almost certainly stems from my own silly issues.

| CONCLUSIONS |

I’m not usually one to give hard advice, but I trust that utilizing the tips discussed here may lead to less hurt feelings and maybe even better beer. One of the more interesting psychologists, a dude I spent maybe too much time studying, Fritz Perls, once alluded to the idea that growth is a function of frustration, without it nothing changes, we stagnate. And so it goes with homebrewing– if I’m incapable of accepting negative feedback and only seek positive validation, my beer won’t develop, it won’t get better.

Plus, it’s just beer.

If you have any other tips for dealing with or doling out constructive criticism that I didn’t mention, I’m sure there’s plenty, please be sure to share it in the comments section below. Cheers!


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17 thoughts on “Dealing With Critical Feedback, or How To Take A Sucker Punch to the Gut”

  1. Great post!

    I believe it’s important not to dwell on the fails in a defeatist fashion, but rather view them as an opportunity to grow and learn from them. I often remind myself that since I can’t travel back in time and fix something I did, the next best thing I can do is learn from it. Otherwise its a waste. I’ll admit, when I do take the first sip of that beer that I spent so much time on and was SURE it was going to be perfect and have been counting the days till it was ready, my heart does sink a bit – I think that’s natural. It’s how you process that and act on it that makes the difference.

    I think it’s just as important to be able to take compliments to heart as they can be just as valuable as criticism, as validation of “I don’t suck all the time”. At least for me, that fuels my desire to get even better and to share more with others.

    Probably the main reason I brew other than just the love of the hobby (ok, and the product) is the fact that I can create something that brings pleasure and happiness to my neighbors and friends. I guess that ties into what our host was talking about as it relates to giving.

    All great points you made in your post, and I couldn’t agree more!

  2. Great advice. Detaching yourself from your creation is really important. As a filmmaker, I’ve had tons of practice with this. Something I try to remember too, is that even the best breweries out there don’t brew great beer all the time. Most of the time, all we ever get to taste is their best work. Their successful and perfected recipes. I’m not saying I’m skilled enough to be a pro-brewer, but keeping this in mind reminds me of how unrealistic it is to expect all of my recipes to be home runs. No matter how good I get, I’ll still brew a lot of duds.

  3. I read a business book called Failing Forward that I’ve been able to apply to many parts of my life, especially in my brewing and cooking hobbies. Summarized, it states you WILL fail. Give yourself a mistake quota, and when you fill that quota, just restart the count and try to fill it again. WD-40 was the 40th try, Edison tried thousands of filaments, Teflon, Post-it Notes, and the Slinky were all mistakes.

  4. I want to try the Compliment Sandwich next time I judge at comp.

    Something along the lines of, “Very lovely bubbles of substantial quantity. On the other hand, smells and tastes like rotten can of creamed corn. Perhaps you should actually boil the wort. The brown bottle and gold crown definitely does bring some needed class to the experience!”

    Failure is the fertilizer of success. And yes it often stinks.

  5. I think I’m very rude with myself. The first question I ask me when I try my beer is, did I enjoy it? then, would I drink it again? then I go for the killer, Would I buy this on a bar?

    I have never made a beer that has been of 3 “Yes”

    Most people i give my beer to taste is because I think their have good judgment at least with beers but I panic every time no one finds a flaw, I know when I make a very good brew but I think always have improvements to make.

  6. Good article. It takes a while to really sort out the negatives between those people who don’t really know how to evaluate what you are trying to give them and those who can’t. A lot of people simply don’t like that style of beer but can’t communicate why they don’t like your beer.

    However “Did you know that fully half of all the beer you make is going to be below average? This is a statistical absolute” is completely ridiculous statement. If I make 10 beers, 8 of them are 5/10, 1 is a 4/10 and 1 is a 6/10 then only 1 of them is “below average”.

    1. I didn’t mean for this to cause such a stir. If you make 10 beers and you rank all 10 on the same scale, half are going to fall below average. If one believes every beer they make is 6/10 or higher, well…

      1. Sorry, but maybe you could re-read my example. In my example only 1 beer was “below average”. 8 beers were “average” and 1 beer was “above average”.

        If you are making more beers below 5/10 than at or above you are doing it wrong.

  7. “Im good enough, Im smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.”
    I still remember my first time sharing beer with a local homebrew club. My pumpkin ale that I slaved over did not receive the warm welcome I anticipated. Butt-hurt and miffed, I vowed never to go to another meeting. “Those IPA lovers dont know a thing! Screw those guys!”
    Nowadays I realize that it was my childish reaction was just the novice in me speaking. Its ok to take a little criticism. Learn from it, and use it to improve.
    I make beer cuz I like it. And I like to share it with my friends. I know Im the minority here, but I have zero interest in entering a competition. I just wanna brew beer and drink it. It tastes good (to me anyways) and Im perfectly happy to enjoy it at home. Here’s to all the homebrewers out there.

  8. Niemand Besonders

    Don’t seek critical feedback from people who don’t know more about beer than you do. You can graciously accept it, but don’t go looking for it.

  9. Great post!

    I find it difficult to get truly-honest criticism, even from people who are BJCP-certified. But I can understand their struggle; I’ve definitely over-rated or over-complimented beers that I knew, at heart, weren’t above “good”.

    Mind you, on the other side, if you give a beer to someone who is UNDER-critical, it’s also tough, because they’re constantly saying they love your beer… and maybe it’s because they don’t understand beer flaws enough? Or maybe you’re being too hard on yourself?

    See, now I’m rambling. All said and done, it’s tough to know for sure, whether you enter in competitions (some judges are great, and some suck… “There’s an off-flavor in the flavor” was once the only thing written in the Taste section of a beer I entered).

  10. Nice article. I tend to be a lot harder on my beer then others that I share it with. I pick apart everything. I think out of 27 batches or so I have only made 3 beer that I would not change a thing about. The thing that drives me crazy is when you know something is wrong with your beer, but you can’t figure out what went wrong in your process or recipe. Luckily, I have been apart of a small group of brewers (not a club, we call it a fellowship) that meets monthly and critically evaluate each others beers. So I’m able to figure out most of my mistakes eventually and learn from it. I just find it hard sometimes not to dwell on stupid mistakes. But like someone said you can’t go back it time so why let it eat at you.

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