By Carolyn Manning
Cold hearted orb that rules the night,
Removes the colours from our sight.
Red is gray and yellow white,
But we decide which is right.
And which is an illusion.
I don’t get it. Even someone who’d never noticed on their own that dim light obscures color has surely heard the mellifluous tones of Richard Burton reciting these lines in the overly dramatic ending of the Moody Blues’ Knights in White Satin, and would then have observed for themselves that twilight robs the landscape of all color variation, making everything appear black, white or a shade of gray.
You knew that, didn’t you? Of course you did.
You also know we eat with our eyes first. And I have to believe every good chef knows it, too, and it guides his/her choice of plating elements every bit as much as the actual flavors do.
Why, then, would a culinary artist display his/her work in an unlit gallery?
A short while ago, Marshall and I went to dinner at a well-established NE Portland restaurant that we had heard excellent things about, but had never tried. Let me say, first of all, the food was unbelievably good.
For our first dish, picture in your mind a large plate, mounded in the center with a playful mix of pale green frisee and dark green arugula, lightly dressed in a vinaigrette, giving the leaves the slightest shimmer. Add vibrant green slices of avocado, golden chunks of perfectly smoked trout, and shockingly red supremes of blood orange scattered throughout. Can you imagine the beauty of it? We did. We had to imagine it, because the lighting was so low, everything looked gray except the blood orange segments, which looked black.
Do you find gray avocado slices visually appealing? Neither did we.
The flavors were divine, however. The creaminess of the avocado played nicely off the citrus, and the smoked trout was the best I’ve had in Portland. It was moist and fresh, with just the right amount of smoke. I imagine it was the lovely light tan color most smoked fish achieves, but who knows? If it had been a yellow trout or one of those salmon-pink trout native to our icy mountain lakes, the color might have been some other variation.
But who would know? Not anyone in the dining room, that’s for sure.
You KNOW that plate was gorgeous in the bright lights of the kitchen. It was designed to be a feast for the senses … the eyes as well as the mouth.
So can someone tell me why a chef like that would allow his dining room to rob his diners of one of their keenest senses?
We asked our server if perhaps the lights were on a dimmer, and could they possibly be brought up a little so we could see our food. She acknowledged that the lights were indeed on a dimmer, but were purposely set so low in order to create “ambiance”.
Really … what ambiance is created by a mostly darkened room? Romance? Maybe … if the room you’re in also has a Posture Pedic. No, unless the food is in need of being hidden, a room so dimly lit adds nothing to the dining experience. Such a lighting choice should be reserved for seedy bars where lonely people in need of a place to hide can drink themselves into oblivion in dark anonymity.
After describing the visually gray experience of the first course with our waitperson, the house lights were brought up ever so slightly just after our entrees arrived.
My meatless entrée was one of the finest combinations of flavors and textures I’ve ever eaten. Truly a delight! I imagine it was stunningly beautiful in full light. It was a creamy polenta with asparagus spears, grilled spring onions, crowned with a perfectly soft poached egg.
In the very dim light as the dishes arrived, it was only a variation in the textures of the polenta and the egg that identified the presence of the egg at all. Was the polenta white or yellow … I still don’t know, because the lights were not brought up enough to make such a visually subtle difference discernible. But it was enough to identify the dark little chunks of goodness on my plate as red tomatoes … who knew? … yet not enough to tell for sure if the asparagus was gray from being overcooked or merely due to the poor lighting stealing the vibrant green from fresh spears cooked a perfect crisp-tender. By taste, I was delighted to find it was the latter.
I would want this dish again and again … it was just that good. And yet, I feel a little robbed by that night’s experience. While I thoroughly enjoyed the flavors and textures of the dish … the crisp asparagus against the creamy polenta and velvety egg yolk … I was deprived of the visual spectacle of the burst of bright yellow as the poached egg yolk flowed like lava over the pale polenta and the dark green asparagus. It was only a slightly darker shade of pale.
What a shame.
It would be a wonderful thing for this fad to fade. Maybe it will one day, when the wonderful chefs of this city step out of their brightly lit kitchens and take a look at their food as their diners see it. It’s not such a pretty picture.
Carolyn Manning is an occasional contributor to PortlandFoodandDrink.
truth says
You’re really not gonna say which restaurant, eh? Now I feel like I’m in the dark ;) I haven’t really noticed a problem with dim light, except at clarklewis (didnt they even provide flashlights?)
Peggy says
We all need to know what restaurant. So does the restaurant.
LadyConcierge says
You tease!
ATrain says
I too was reminded of clarklewis which did indeed provide flashlights (I guess so that you didn’t burn the menu when you held it to close to the candle :).
Food Dude says
Gilt Club also provided flashlights at one point. I think they have turned up the lights a bit now.
Carolyn Manning says
Is it really necessary to know which restaurant it was? If my article gets every chef out of his/her kitchen to see what their diners see, I’ve accomplished my gosl. Telling which specific restaurant is described here may actually work against that goal, as only that restaurant may take it to heart.
(Hint: it was not darklewis, though I did experience the same thing there, and will go back only during summer months when they have the walls open and the sun can illuminate my food)
Besides, I just don’t want the flaming responses from the restaurant’s fans who might disagree with me. As our brilliant President says, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool …fool me … can’t get fooled again.” HA! :-)
If you want to know because the food sounds too good to miss out on and you want some for yourself, well that’s another story.
-Carolyn
LadyConcierge says
Hmmm..well-established NE restaurant..Tabla, T9, Alberta St., Fife?
Pork Cop says
Please let it be Yakuza….Please?…….
anne says
I’m going to guess Lovely Hula Hands. We had the same amazing salad recently at 6pm on a spring evening, sitting upstairs in front of the windows-the light is just fine under those circumstances. While small, the setting felt intimate, but not stuffy or underlit.
sidemeat says
When i’m really trying to taste something I close me eyes.
If I’m reading a book, music is a distraction.
If I’m petting my cat, I must be trying to read the paper
If the food is good, I could almost listen to the Moody Blues
while I Dine.
Restaurants do create their atmosphere, sometimes to everyone’s taste in every way.
Usually not.
It’s too DARK, COLD, HOT,STUFFY, BREEZY, LOUD, CROWDED,
MOIST,THE MUSIC IS WRONG, and THIS is not what I ordered;
is just so much mewling.
We will not discuss art..
Your request for more light is just as valuable
as the next persons request for less.
Your server will attend to both by doing nothing.
Same with the heat, the open door, the choice of music,
that goddam 16 pt sans serif font on the port list.
Chill baby.
If you like the food, the drink, the service, your company,
everything but the light
bring your own.
Dine well.
Marshall Manning says
Sidemeat, while faux poetry (fauxetry?) in fragmented sentences is all well and good, the idea of food (and wine) appreciation is in pleasing as many senses as possible. If you eliminate the positive visual aspect, you’re just left with the senses of taste and smell. Yes, they can be great on their own, but the food loses some of its possible appeal when the visual aspect is reduced or eliminated.
Why NOT discuss art? Would you show a Monet (or another work of art of your choice) in a dimly lit room? If you were proud of the painting and wanted everyone to appreciate it, you’d make sure that it had plenty of light, right?
Cuisine Bonne Femme says
Very interesting write up. I was reminded of this from one of my favorite food books.
As taken from the Dictionary of Japanese Food where a recently blinded man describes eating:
“However splendid a repast it may be, its tastiness will considerably be diminished if you eat it in the dark. To start with, if you don’t know what you are eating you are bound to be somewhat apprehensive. As we eat, the faculty of sight enables us to identify the ingredients of the cooking and how it was done. If the ingredients are good and the cook competent, then when we see what has been cooked our feelings expand, our appetite is sharpened, and, finally, when we put the food in our mouth, we check whether the taste comes up to expectation or not. Food is tasted not just by our tongues but our brains.”
Yes “hopefully this fad will fade”. Or it will turn into a bigger fad where diners are either blindfolded or placed in completely dark rooms when they eat. Didn’t I recently read about a restaurant in NYC that is now doing just that?
Cuisine Bonne Femme says
Check this out. Seriously funny, but probably not meaning to be:
Dining in the Dark
Carolyn Manning says
“When i’m really trying to taste something I close me eyes.”
And why do you do that, Sidemeat? Is it perhaps because you find the appearance of what you are about to eat somehow influences the way it tastes? What has made you decide the dish is worthy of such concentration in the first place?
Thank you for making my point.
A good chef intentionally designs the presentation of their food to be an influential componant. If you choose to close your eyes to eat it, more power to you. A dark room gives us no choice but to eat it with our eyes closed … and does so without the opportunity to experience the anticipation that comes from being able to say, “Wow! That looks great!”
I’d be interested in knowing, meat, if you close your eyes when you anticipate the first bite of everything you eat … including a really ugly, boring-looking dish … or if you save that exercise for dishes your eyes have already told you will be something special.
And Anne, thanks for the tip! Next time we will ask for a window seat and go early enough to dine while the sun shines.
C McPherson says
By the way, that wasn’t Richard Burton reciting the poetry on Nights in White Satin. Richard was never on any Moody Blues album, he was on Jeff Wayne’s War of the Worlds in which he recited the spoken parts of the narrator and Justin Hayward of the Moody Blues sang the thoughts of the narrator. That’s the only connection. On the Moody Blues album in question : Days of Future Passed, it is Graeme Edge, the drummer who has been with the Moody Blues since day one, who recites his own poem.
sidemeat says
So much Manning, and so litle time.
Let us start by agreeing perhaps?
Some people do :)
I do
this
Same same as my people say,
It’s not even proto=poetry
monkeys with garbage can lids do better.
Food Dude says
Um, Sidemeat… the poetry contest ended. ;>)
sidemeat says
did it die?-
sharon jonquil says
I am at that stage of life when I need to bring reading glasses (on top of the contact lenses) in order to read menus. It is thoroughly frustrating to tip candles and try to not let the wax run out and pool on the tablecloth just so I can read the menu. I dislike dim lighting in restaurants because I enjoy intently perusing the menu before dinner so I can pick just the right thing to order, and then when I get it, be able to see what I am eating. Yeah I can bring a flashlight but thats stupid! I don’t want to have to remember that on top of everything else like where I parked the car and did I turn my cell phone off! Let there be light!
Food Dude says
Like sidemeat, I almost always close my eyes when I take my first few bites of any dish. As a college professor once explained to me, “vision takes a huge amount of energy. To really hear, or taste, close your eyes”. I firmly believe that he is correct. However…
A good part of the eating experience is in seeing the food. If not, why would a chef spend so much time on plating? I enjoy looking closely at my food, separating out the different ingredients and figuring out exactly how the dish was put together. I think designing a dish is about a combination of taste and color palate. An overly dark restaurant robs the diner of that pleasure. It makes the older people among us feel that much older. It makes me annoyed when I’m trying to figure out what is on the menu, or am forced to pass a candle around between companions as we figure out what were are going to order.
Of course some restaurants purposely keep the lights down to foster a ‘romantic’ image – I think that is what this particular restaurant was doing, but there comes a point where one has to ask which is the most important: the ambiance or the food.
sidemeat says
fasten your seatbelts people, here we go. Of course closing ones eyes while focusing on taste, smell, sound or memory (other examples people?) is common, nothing more than casual observation shows this truth. I think too that the proper action when compelled to eat something that one finds distastefull is to hold your nose. Thank you for your question Ms. Manning, but Meat eats pretty well for the most part. I have not had occassion for ‘ a really ugly, boring dish’ in memory but if our plane goes down in the Andes beware. My point about the lighting of (name) restaurant is not so much as to the quality or worth of the lighting, but to the nature of the request to change it. Unlike a request for dressing on the side or no onions, a request for more light means more light for everyone. Some people, perhaps not only lonely, drunken sots, may enjoy a darker dining room. Shari’s is pretty well lit. Breakfast at all hours. Dine well.
pam says
Uh, regarding ‘did it die’? I believe that may have been the death knell.
sidemeat says
you know, if I close my eyes, I can almost taste what she means…
Carolyn Manning says
Hey, McPherson …
Thanks for the trivia! I’ve always assumed it was Burton, and even wondered how they got him to do it. I appreciate you setting the record straight. That’s a cool bit of trivia I will use in the future. Thank you!
-C
Alexis says
Cuisine Bonne Femme,
The restaurant you refer to is in London. The waiters are all blind, and the lights are turned completely off.
Marshall Manning says
Dude, you may close your eyes on the first few bites of the dish, but before that the first thing you do is look at the food and get an impression. The lighting issue isn’t about the ability to taste the food, it’s about the ability to discern the overall composition of the plate, the presentation of the dish, the possibility that things that are colors they shouldn’t be (browned salad “greens”, meat cooked more than requested, etc.) and the overall visual feel of the food. All of this happens before you decide to close your eyes and take the first taste, and it’s very important in anyone’s enjoyment of the meal. If you don’t look at the dish first, you don’t know where to cut the meat, right?
C McPherson says
I’m always glad to help out.