Ask George: When you enter a restaurant, what leads: your eyes, ears, or nose?

Ask George: When you enter a restaurant, what leads: your eyes, ears, or nose? —Kathy L., St. Louis

My knee-jerk reaction: Visual stimuli strike first and hardest… No, wait. Can I change my mind?

Most people walk into a restaurant for the first time with their heads on a swivel, scanning and panning, attempting to quickly pick up every nuance.

Sometimes it’s the noise level that strikes you first. A cacophonous environment is fine…as long as you’re expecting it. We recently approached a front desk—where neither party could hear one another—and communicated through hand gestures that the wait (we pointed at our watch with raised eyebrows) was 45 minutes (she signaled a four and five). We mouthed “thank you” and left. 

Or how often have you approached a favorite barbecue joint and smelled the sweet fruitwood smoke well before reaching the destination or been shocked by the almost burning intensity of the smoke from acrid woods, such as oak and hickory? The aroma of cooking garlic can be detected in varying degrees on The Hill and outside myriad other Italian restaurants in the metro area.

The smell of somebody’s grandma’s fried chicken emanating from a local chicken shack? Good. The smell of oven-burned Provel cheese emanating from a pizzeria? Bad. But how about the pleasantly greasy smell of hamburgers being smashed-and-seared on a flat-top griddle? (Hello, Carl’s Drive-In.) Or the more refined odor of a well-marbled ribeye rendering over an open flame?

Now, step inside the restaurant. Even from the breezeway, one can often detect the lemony sizzle of mussels sizzling in a cast-iron skillet or fajita vegetables popping on their platters. Just as easily, odors can backfire: There’s the smell of fish cooking in spent cooking oil, the moldy odor of stale mop water, and the worst offender: the smell of sewer gas emanating from who-knows-where the moment you open the door.

That fiery-looking dish being whisked across the dining room of a Thai restaurant is often preceded by a hint of fire in the nostrils (or if you miss it, you know it just passed by).

Years ago, when we sent out what became a signature dessert—a gingerbread waffle topped with steaming, cinnamon-y spiced apples—the waffle baker immediately fired two more in wise anticipation, knowing he’d just tossed out a powerful olfactory lure.

The most alluring aroma for me, however, is the one generated by the 50-year-old flambée ritual at Cyrano’s, a combination of butter, orange juice, brown sugar, and cinnamon, all singing harmoniously in a stainless-steel sautée pan. The topper is the flaming of a half shot of Bacardi 151-proof rum and the fiery plume resulting from sprinkles of more cinnamon and  sugar.

Think about it: A plate is placed in front of you at a restaurant. You’ll immediately notice the artistry, but you probably “tasted” it—through your nose—moments before it arrives at your table.     

Editor’s note: This article has been updated from a previous version.      

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