Recently, my poor son—who’s generally as tactful as a seasoned diplomat—erred badly on the side of brutal honesty. And it’s (sort of) my fault.
He was visiting some friends during the holidays, and the host’s mother proudly brought out some of her “family-famous” cookies for him to try. This lady had heard that I was a cookbook author and after learning that my son had been a “taster-rater” of many of my cookie recipes, wanted him to judge hers, too. “I told her I really didn’t feel comfortable with that,” he related, “but she kept insisting, so finally I did.”
He gave her treats a score of “6.5 to 7 out of 10.” Immediately, all chit-chat ceased, and the room temperature dropped 30 degrees. His attempt to backpedal by adding that the cookies were “just a little bit dry and needed more flavor” didn’t help. “She only wanted me to say I liked them,” he lamented. “She wasn’t really interested at all in how to make them better!” He seemed startled at that, no doubt because it’s always why I want to know.
Which brings me to the point of this story: If you’re a professional creating recipes that people are paying for, you must move yourself beyond just wanting to be flattered by feedback. Seek out honest criticism. Force yourself to get past feeling insulted and act on the information provided. (For more on recipes that are good enough for publication go here.)
Because I stress to my recipe testers and taster/raters that I need the truth, I get it—and, on occasion, it’s brutal (yet often funny, too): “These cookies would be good for packing material and nothing else!” is probably the meanest, most colorful criticism I’ve ever gotten. Right up there with it is a taster-rater’s comment on a white chocolate mousse with mocha sauce, “Couldn’t bear to eat this at first–looked like mashed potatoes and gravy!” A 1.5 appearance rating–ouch!
Though such comments may seem unnecessarily harsh and should never be directed at a home cook, they alerted me to serious taste, texture, and appearance issues. I needed to know them to produce professional-quality dishes (the mashed potato-gravy problem hadn’t occurred to me at all).
Since most of us have been schooled to be kind about people’s cooking, it’s not only important for the professional food writer or cookbook author to seek out honest opinions, but to put in perspective the comments of those who are overly enthusiastic or just being nice. My editor at Wiley, Justin Schwartz, says that in particular, bloggers with lots of loyal followers tend to be swayed too much by flattering feedback and often need a dose of hard truth:
“I’ve had people tell me they probably just need someone to help them cross the t’s and dot the i’s, when I already know their recipes need massive reworking. Bloggers all think that. …. They’ll say things like, ‘But my recipes are good, and I know it because my fans tell me so.’ …. Are their friends/testers just not mentioning the problems?” If you’re a blogger interested in writing for cookbook or food editors, consider whether this observation might apply to you.
Is it ever pleasant to have testers or tasters pick at or diss my dishes? No, not even after thousands of recipes critiqued over many years. But it’s a lot better to have somebody privately tell me a recipe should only be fed to the garbage disposer than to have a disgruntled reviewer give it 1 star and say that on Amazon.com!
Libby, you make a number of valid points. A thick skin is handy! It helps you to really listen to rather than get upset by criticism. As you mentioned, it's also useful to note who is criticizing–everybody has opinions, but some are more valuable than others.
I guess I have developed a thick skin after working for several years in engineering with a work force of basically 90% men. In my "second life" job as a photographer I was blatantly told "you suck" when I first started even though I have basically had a camera in my hands since birth, and it was the best thing that ever happened. It drove me to develop proper plans for my work and to hone the fine details.
With the baking, I would rather have brutal honesty if something is bad. It encourages me to define what went wrong and improve.
I think you must also consider the source of the critiques. There are self acclaimed professionals, and then there are those who really know the business. Another consideration is the culinary segment you are aiming at, such as in "fine dining" quality or home baker fair to midland.
My pies have gotten pretty darned good because I've worked at them the past couple of years. Yeah they'd probably take home a county fair ribbon or two. However if I was to seek critique from a time honored pastry expert, I highly doubt that they would totally pass muster. I don't think I have crossed over to that highly refined skill level yet. It would be interesting to find out if someone of stature in pastry world had the time for me.
I have been fortunate enough to have taste testers who will give me great constructive criticism and don't always sugar coat it. They know I want to get things right before I send them out into the world!
Thanks for writing this thoughtful post Nancy. I am currently testing recipes for three different friends who are writing cookbooks. Because they are friends, I feel a little bad dissing a recipe. I try to be as constructive as possible but you are right, if something really doesn't work, they need to know about.
Excellent post, Nancy. This is something I see from both sides. People come to me for criticism (or critique!) on their writing and before I do it I make absolutely sure that they understand that it may not all be positive. I try and figure out if they really want critique or if they want a nod and a pat on the back. On the other side, I also recently had to create a few recipes for a publication and I had my son and his friends try the recipes. I tried to make them understand how important their complete honesty was because, as you said, I would rather them tell me they were no good than the editor tell me! I still wonder if they were too shy to really criticize honestly. Wonderful, important post! Thank you!
Thank you, Nancy. Your explanation makes sense. I wish I could figure out why it happens with some cupcakes and not others, from the same batch. Maybe baking 1 test cupcake is a good way to check on that.
Re: cake and cupcakes releasing from their paper (or metal) cups. I'm sure Shirley Corriher would have a better explanation but due to the leavening agents, beating in air, and natural expansion from heat, many baked goods fill the pan at first, but then as they cool tend to shrink a bit and pull away from the sides. I think this results partly from gluten and egg proteins tightening and also from evaporation of moisture naturally and normally occurring during baking. I actually call for a little baking powder in my pie dough, not really to lighten it, but to counteract the natural shrinking that occurs.
Thanks for responding on my blog, Nancy. I appreciate your input on my comment earlier.
I have a question for you that's not related to this topic (I don't have your email address). I apologize in advance for "spamming" your blog :o)
Why is it that sometimes when I bake cupcakes, the baked cupcakes (partially) release themselves from the paper cupcake liner? I always use a metal cupcake pan, not silicone, lined with paper liners, not foil liners. I fill them about 2/3 full, maybe 3/4.
I'd appreciate your input on this.
Thanks so much for commenting–delighted to hear that you are enjoying my posts. Yes, it did put my son in an awkward position–I doubt that he'll ever say anything negative to anyone (but me) again. And yes, it's really eye-opening to let testers and tasters loose on one's recipes. Of course this is what happens when recipes go to magazine/newspaper test kitchens, so any bloggers (or others) aspiring to write for them need to get used to the process.
Nancy, this is my first post on your site. We've recently become friends on FB and I now read your posts as they come out. GREAT STUFF. One of my testers is my son, who lives 3 hours away from me. He tests because he can cook, but does it in a "less refined" way than I, using different pot, pans, etc. This has opened my eyes to what happens to a recipe after it leaves my kitchen… even though I have tested it 3 times (my criteria for a recipe leaving my kitchen before publishing). My husband and my assistant are my other two… both of whom can speak their mind with me, and they do. As for the outside world, once I've made it past these three… it is lovely! I feel for your son. He was is an impossible situation.
Laura, you raise a good point. Even taster-raters I've "trained" have their own biases–I, for example, can't give rice pudding a fair grade because I just don't like bits of rice in any pudding, tasty or not.
I tend to take comments based on biases less seriously but have a little rule I follow relating to that: If one person, say a nut-hater, complains about the nuts lending an unpleasant texture, I discount it. But if two or more people say it, I always figure it's a legit complaint and need to do something about it. In other words, I then see it as a problem, not just an isolated, quirky perspective. (Don't know how critiquing would work with photos.)
Hi Nancy,
I'll gladly welcome and utilize criticism to improve my recipes if it’s done without bias. I want the truth so I can grow, but the problem is most people giving the opinions do so based on their personal taste preferences only. Say one person hates nuts, or the other doesn't like frosting period.
So I have no idea how to get a true take one what I'm doing. I need a non-bias taste tester in my life!
Now I know why food panels exist.
Laura
Nancy, you couldn't be more right on this one. And could you please send your son over to my house for some honest feedback? Over the years, with me participating in the State Fair baking contest every summer, where 99 out of 100 points, gets you second place, I've trained my husband well. He gives me great feedback. My friends at work have gotten much better at it as well. Thanks to them and my husband, I was able to tweak a peanut butter cookie recipe (3-4 revisions) and ended up getting first place (blue ribbon) for it at the State Fair. I'm allergic to peanut butter so I never tasted them. But the detailed feedback gave me good ideas on which tweaks to make.
This is such a true post. As a home cook, I think part of the problem is that you work so hard to create something fabulous for your family and if they are less than pleased it's hard not to take that to heart. But when you can take that aspect out of it then it gets easier. Since I started my blog, I'm able to say, "Ok, it's good, but is it blog-worthy?" And I find that my family and friends are more willing to be honest rather than just polite. Everybody kind of gets into it and we can figure out what needs to be tweaked. Thanks for this reminder of having a thick skin!
funny, I just talked about my hubby being a wise taster in one of my last posts. He will sometimes say, "That's good enough for me to eat, but not good enough to put in a cookbook! I love it!
Wonderful post, Nancy, I can sure relate. My husband was schooled early on, when I served him a recipe test and asked what he thought — at first he'd just say "fine" or "good" — but I urged him to be more detailed, more honest. He's a great taster-rater now. To the degree that sometimes he'd critique non-recipe-testing as well. Which is okay, but some days I need a night off — that's when I put the food down and say "tonight, it's just dinner"!
I crave all the objective input I can get on recipes, it's critical to me. And I also send many of them out to non-pro friends to test as well, to make sure they cut it in someone else's kitchen too.