What Makes a Bad Review Good
How to Complain Without Being a Dick (From Someone Who’s Read Them All)
It always starts with a ping.
Usually from a mate. Sometimes a staff member. Occasionally a regular who thinks they’re doing you a favour. And every now and then, it’s your mum — calling you, concerned, like you’ve been personally slandered. "Have you seen this?" they ask, as they drop a one-star bomb into your inbox. And just like that, your day goes sideways.
Bad reviews land hard. Doesn’t matter how seasoned you are, how confident you feel, or how brilliant last night’s service was. One snotty comment from a stranger and suddenly you're questioning your life choices, your kitchen setup, your music playlist, and whether your entire existence is a lie built on under-seasoned courgettes.
The modern restaurant lives under constant evaluation. Google, TripAdvisor, Instagram DMs, angry emails from Hotmail accounts. Everyone’s a critic. And the real challenge? Figuring out which bits are actually worth listening to.
Because here’s the truth: not all bad reviews are created equal.
Some are fair and helpful. Some are petty and unhinged. Some are written by people who genuinely want you to do better next time. Others come from folks who just didn’t like your decor — or that your walls aren’t colourful enough, your chairs don’t look like they came from a chain pub refurb, or your lighting doesn’t make them feel like they’re dining in a dentist’s waiting room.
So how do we filter it? How do we separate the signal from the noise?
And just to be clear — these are all real reviews (some public, some private) from my own restaurants. Nothing made up here. Every line came from a guest who walked through our doors, ate our food, and felt the need to share their truth.
The Good Kind of Bad ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
"Two pieces of feedback, the butter for the bread was cold, difficult to spread. For the gnocchi dish, the courgette was under-seasoned, it didn’t stop me enjoying it. Apart from that, we absolutely loved it here, even signed up to the loyalty scheme. Will definitely return for more incredible food. The staff were very attentive, the music was lit… Wish you best of luck, a real gem."
This one’s a gift. Specific, constructive, full of warmth. The kind of review that says, “We love what you’re doing, just tighten a couple of bolts.” That’s the good kind of bad. You screenshot it. You share it with the team. You fix the butter and check your seasoning.
The Point-Misser ⭐️ ⭐️
"I just don’t understand the point of ‘Small Plates’ really… The food is well presented and very tasty, and I guess that’s what you’re paying for? There doesn’t seem to be a breakfast menu any more, which is a shame, although it was limited and slightly overpriced to begin with. The 2 occasions I have visited, the staff have been pleasant and engaging, so credit to them. I guess my rating just reflects the fact that I just don’t get it."
This one’s a classic. Not a review of the food — a review of the concept. Everything was tasty, service was good, staff were charming... but oh no, they don’t like small plates. That’s like turning up to a tapas restaurant and getting upset your main came in instalments. What do you want us to do — invent breakfast again just to soothe your existential fear of sharing? We’re not changing the menu because your soul longs for beige carbs and a fried egg. Go to a Wetherspoons, mate.
The Painfully Fair One ⭐️⭐️⭐️
"Had a good meal — food was delicious and service was good too. However, there was a long delay to the final course coming out which meant being rushed through it to meet the table curfew, as the next table were waiting. I understand these places have to work to tight schedules, but we only had 15 minutes to eat our desserts, cheese and finish drinks. The waitress was lovely and apologetic, but we spent over £250 on the meal and it was a special occasion, so left a bit of a bitter taste."
This one stings — because they’re right. We remember the night. We remember the delay. And we know the exact moment they felt shoved out the door. That’s the kind of review that sparks a team talk and a policy tweak. Because they weren’t trying to take us down — they just wanted the night to end as well as it started.
The Four-Star Riddle ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
"Lovely food. Everything we had was cooked to perfection. Notable dishes were the Beef Shin Nugget and the Lardo starter. Also we'd never had cooked olives before and they were a revelation. Great service too. Thank you!" — 4 stars
No one’s perfect — except, apparently, we were. Their words, not ours: cooked to perfection, a revelation, great service. So why the four stars? It’s the great mystery of hospitality — the phantom star that disappears into the void. Maybe they just don’t believe in giving full marks. Maybe their Uber was late. Maybe their ex liked cooked olives too. Whatever the reason, it’s maddening. We smile and say thanks. But quietly? We scream into a napkin (or write a Substack).
How to Complain Without Being a Dick (A Public Service Announcement)
Praise in public, criticise in private — that’s how I try to live (both personally, and in business), and it’s how I think most people should approach feedback. Especially in hospitality, where what we do is personal, messy, and done in front of an audience.
Personally, I’ve never left a bad review. If I don’t like a place, I don’t go back. Maybe I moan to my mates. Maybe I stew on it for a day. But I don’t try to damage someone’s business because I didn’t like the vibes.
That said, feedback can be helpful — if it’s done right. So if you are going to leave a review, here’s how to do it like someone who actually wants restaurants to succeed:
Be specific. “It was bad” is useless. “The fish was dry” helps.
Be timely. Three weeks later? That’s not feedback. That’s festering.
Don’t make it personal. Critique the service, not the staff’s outfit (that actually happened once).
Balance helps. If you liked the wine, say so. We’re fragile.
Think before you type. Was it really one-star bad, or just not your scene?
Hospitality is personal. Restaurants are human. And your review? It echoes longer than you think.
So if you’ve got something to say — say it like someone who gives a shit. We’ll read it. We always do.
N.B. When it comes to reviews, I think it's worth drawing a line between the average punter and professional critics.
The latter — journalists, restaurant writers, whatever you want to call them — are (ideally) informed, experienced, and honest. Their job is to call it as they see it, not to flatter chefs or pander to PR fluff. That’s their role, and when done well, it’s essential.
The average punter, though? Less so. Most diners aren’t experts in food, service, or restaurant culture — and that’s fine. But if you’re going to leave a glowing five-star or scathing one-star review, a bit of self-awareness wouldn’t go amiss. This applies in both directions. Loving it or hating it doesn’t automatically make you right.
Still remember every non-5 star review Novel got. They were few and far between, but even the 4s stung!
Great read. Thank you!