Drinkers don’t need beer reviews because beer is cheap, regional, subjective – and because making up your own mind is half the fun.
In a recent post at his revived blog at Total Ales Matthew Curtis wrote:
“This week I’ve been thinking about the lack of criticism in beer writing. It’s something I’ve thought about a lot over the years, because beer and pub reviewing doesn’t really exist in any meaningful way compared to how it does in wine or food writing.”
This isn’t quite the same issue as one we’ve addressed various times over the years: why is beer writing so uncritical?
The answer to that question is mostly that there’s a collective sense that small, independent breweries need to be supported, not kicked at.
This was a principle established by Michael ‘The Beer Hunter’ Jackson decades ago and one to which many people writing about beer still adhere.
We decided to write critically about breweries and pubs a few years ago, if we felt like it. And some people did not, and do not, like that.
It’s a choice each beer writer (pro or hobbyist) has to make for themselves. As Katie Mather observes…
I generally don't write negative reviews because I can't be arsed with the backlash. People online are rude, and brewery owners get personally offended and DM-y. For the sake of my sanity, I just say nothing.
— Katie Mather (@katiematherkm.bsky.social) October 28, 2024 at 9:59 AM
But Matt’s question is about why more publications don’t have a beer critic on their books.
Apart from the odd exception, we cannot generally pick up a newspaper at the weekend and get intel on which beers to seek out or buy.
But the thing is, we do not need that intel.
If we see a beer for sale that looks interesting, we’re willing to invest a fiver in a pint, or a couple of quid in a half. If it’s bad, we haven’t lost much in terms of cash or time.
Compare that to a film, for example, where a critical review could save you £15 and two and a half hours of your life.
From our own small experience writing a small column for the Guardian Guide for a small amount of time a decade or so ago, we also know that beer criticism is limited by the availability of the beers in question.
There is no point in recommending a beer that is only produced in limited volumes, or only available regionally.
So, you end up writing about national brands from larger producers, available in supermarkets or mainstream pubs.
That can be interesting – especially if you’re able to highlight hidden gems that might otherwise be overlooked. For example, we discovered McEwan’s Champion because Martyn Cornell took the trouble to explain why it was a more interesting beer than we’d realised.
There’s also the problem that our review of a pint of a cask ale from, say, Ashley Down Brewery at a pub here in Bristol might reflect a totally different experience to yours at a festival in Leeds in six months’ time.
When a wine reviewer says “Grab the 2021 Riesling from Château Bloggs” yes, there are variables, but far fewer than for a pint of ale.
Batch, storage, age, condition, presentation… There are so many ways a beer can be screwed up in the supply chain – or enhanced.
Talking this over between ourselves, though, we can think of some instances where beer criticism might be useful.
First, for hyped-up, expensive, limited edition beers. Should you blow £30 on a 750ml bottle of a sour beer from a brewery with a mixed reputation? Or save your money?
Secondly, where the styles or production methods are strange or unfamiliar. Last week, we drank two Grodziskie beers in Poland, but did not have the critical framework to know if they were good examples of the style.
Even in these cases, though, as beer geeks, we like taking a punt. Being lost and trying to find our own way is where the enjoyment comes from.