Why restaurant criticism is unattainable (and what to do instead)
Free meals at some of the best restaurants in the country? The prestige of owning a hyper-dependable palate? A guaranteed constant readership of food-curious people?
Restaurant critique is the dream to the average food writer. To some, it’s the ultimate goal.
Unfortunately, reaching the heights of restaurant critic for a national newspaper is not realistic for 99% of food writers.
But I strongly suspect that, by the end of this post, you’ll think that this might not be such a bad thing.
Decades of experience
Generally, I tell new freelance food writers they don't have to start on the bottom rung of the ladder in terms of working with publications. If you want to pitch and write for the Financial Times on day one, with some adaptations to your approach, there’s no reason why you can’t.
The line however is drawn at restaurant criticism. This is traditionally done in-house, by someone intimately known to the magazine or paper for their witty, story-led journalism and eye for detail. That kind of relationship doesn’t happen overnight.
While the odd opportunity might otherwise crop up on your food writing journey and as you get to know editors well enough (I’ve written some reviews for Time Out in the distant past), they are usually fleeting.
In short, while restaurant criticism might be something you want to aim at, it would be unrealistic to regard it as a major goal.
Restaurant critics aren’t food experts
Or rather, they don’t start out as such. Jay Rayner, Grace Dent, Giles Coren – though they may be the biggest names in restaurant criticism, none of them originated from a food background, or were writing specifically about food and restaurants before their appointment as restaurant critics.
It might sound strange, but restaurant critics are employed for their critical skills – not necessarily for their food knowledge. Rayner was a generalist, Dent wrote about soap operas, and Coren created the job for himself when he was editor of Tatler. Them becoming restaurant critics was more a case of being in the right place at the right time (and tied in some way to a major newspaper) than it was having any sort of preexisting food writing credentials.
Restaurant criticism is gatekept
Of course, anyone can review a restaurant, as long as it’s off their own back and either on their own platform or a public one (i.e. Tripadvisor).
Things get a bit more complicated when it’s for a well-circulated newspaper or magazine.
You see, there’s probably only a couple dozen restaurant critics in the UK. That’s to say, people who review restaurants on a consistent basis, publish their reviews in the press, and get paid at least a decent sum for it.
These positions are so coveted that they only really open up when a critic dies or, on an even rarer occasion, decide to leave their post.
As mentioned above, whoever’s next in line will be well known to the publication. And once they have it, they hold it.
Why restaurant criticism isn’t as fun as you think
Visiting countless restaurants, eating at them on someone else’s dime, then writing about the experience sounds like the best gig ever. And it often can be – enough, at least, for critics to basically never voluntarily leave their job.
The reality is that most restaurants a critic visits, in the same way most restaurants anyone visits in their life, are really quite bad. Or mediocre at best. In such cases, the reader benefits from the experience way more than the reviewer does. That is, if they ever hear about it – many restaurants not viewed favourably by a reviewer never see print.
There is also the curse of a good palate to consider – the more diversity you eat, the more your palate improves. And the more your palate improves, the higher your benchmark for what constitutes as ‘good’. Naturally, this means a smaller and smaller pool of restaurants you visit will fit into this criteria.
Finally on this point, work is work – the shine of being paid to write about a restaurant wears off quickly, as you’re essentially being asked to eat out professionally and objectively, thus putting the pursuit of your own enjoyment to one side. If you were to visit the same restaurant once for work and once for pleasure, you’re much more likely to enjoy it as a casual punter. Trust me, I’ve done both.
Embracing the alternatives
While the dream of being a (nationally-renowned) restaurant critic might be unrealistic for most new food writers, this isn’t necessarily a negative. Other, arguably more fulfilling, avenues in the food writing world include:
Food journalism: Issues, problems, and narratives around food. The stories behind the people who grow and prepare food. The cultures that manifest around food and how they influence our lives for better or worse.
Trade journalism: The challenges faced by people in the food industry – how they have arisen, and who’s engineered solutions to overcome them.
Food history: What connections do our current food tendencies (or lack thereof) have to our past? What did our grandparents eat that we’ve long since forgotten?
Recipes and culinary journalism: More than just cookbooks. What’s the story behind a dish? How can keen home cooks improve their repertoire?
Travel writing: Helping travellers get to grips with a local culinary scene. This might include round ups on local cooking classes, a deep-dive into a town’s seafood restaurants, or a dining out experience you can’t find anywhere else.
If you’d like to know more and perhaps embark on one of these disciplines – in lieu of the elusive "food critic" title – check out So you want to be a food writer?, my pitching course helping new writers to sell their stories to editors, and featuring a money back guarantee.