What gets me through a bad day is the knowledge that at the end of it, I’ll get to be in the kitchen. At the end of a good day, it’s just an added treat. 

This shouldn’t come as breaking news, seeing as, for most of my life, I’ve seen the kitchen as a sort of place of worship. Not in the—this is where the grown ups store the cookies and I pray to the Altar of Chocolate Chips type way. No, it’s more religious than that. If a church, a mosque, and a synagogue are where you’re meant to feel at peace—the place you go for grounding and clarity, community, camaraderie, comfort, and a long sought after sense of control but resignation in the same breath, then no place is holier than the room where dehydrated pebbles can magically turn into protein sources and two threads of an expensive flower can turn a whole dish orange. If a temple is a place to cry and repent or celebrate and release, then for me, my cathedral is the room where the food is made. It’s that simple.

The kitchen is my flow state playground. No thoughts, just swanning about, playing games of roulette with salt, fat, acid, and heat, praying to the ghosts of Julia Child and Anthony Bourdain that whatever’s gone into the pot comes out marginally better after an hour or so. A place that runs like clockwork…if you bought a very temperamental clock.

The same way a good church provides so much more than just a room to kneel during mass, the kitchen does more than simply satiate hunger. It nourishes with community and stories and family and music and laughter. It sets the stage for all of life’s little intimate moments. Crying over algebra homework while eating carrot sticks. Playing games with family during the holidays, mugs of tea in hand and a plate of cookies in the middle. The hard conversations and the even harder fits of laughter. The predictable rhythm of chopping vegetables and the omnipresent hum of sauces simmering. Heirloom pots and pans passed down through generations. Inside jokes. The childhood concoctions you’d whip up with your cousins that somehow all tasted exactly the same type of horrible. Grandmother cooking lessons. Midnight snacking. Dance parties while scream-singing ABBA into ladles. And maybe the occasional evening spent Serena and Nate style on the tile floor…I suppose, in that situation, they’re not quite as holy as a church, but hey, you might be left seeing god.

Today we’re diving into why this is and how spaces—their design, decor, aesthetic and our relationships to them—impact what and how we eat.

Mad Science: The Science of Senses

Our brains process taste through a complex neural network that combines input from all our senses. When you take a bite of food, your brain isn't just registering flavors. It's creating a complete sensory experience that includes:

• Visual input (Is the lighting flattering? Does the space feel inviting?)

• Auditory cues (Is there loud music? Echo-y acoustics?)  

• Temperature (Is the room too hot or cold?)

• Spatial awareness (Do you feel cramped or comfortable?)

• Emotional context (Does the space make you feel relaxed or anxious?)

Sound

I never hold grudges against people, but as someone who frequently gets overstimulated, I sometimes hold grudges against restaurants. There’s nothing more overwhelming than taking a bite of a beautifully thought out and complex dish and not being able to fully enjoy the flavors because their power is at war with the eardrum-shattering untz untz coming out of the speakers. Studies show that noise levels directly affect:

• How much we eat (louder environments = eating more)

• How fast we eat (faster with upbeat music)

• What we order (complex dishes feel overwhelming in loud spaces)

• How we taste (background noise can suppress sweet and salty flavors)

The ideal dining room should hover around 70 decibels—about the level of animated conversation. Any louder and we start to lose our ability to taste nuanced flavors. Any quieter and we feel self-conscious about every fork scrape and glass clink.

Texture & Touch

But it's not just about what we hear. The textures around us literally change how food tastes. Research shows that:

• Rough textures enhance savory flavors

• Smooth surfaces amplify sweetness

• Weight matters (heavy cutlery makes food taste more expensive)

• Even the chair you're sitting in affects taste perception

This is why that croissant actually does taste better at a marble café table than it does at your kitchen counter. Your brain is processing the luxury of the environment and attributing it to the food.

Scent

Ok here’s my clickbait for smell 🚨 Your Kitchen's Ventilation System Might Be Sabotaging Your Cooking 🚨 The ex-digital media girl in me loved the clicky drama of that hed, but it’s honestly not that far off. Good air quality doesn't just make a space more pleasant; it fundamentally changes how we experience flavor. Poor ventilation can:

• Dull our sense of smell (and therefore taste)

• Create flavor confusion from competing aromas

• Increase cooking fatigue

• Make us less likely to cook complex dishes

History 101: From Hearth to Home

The evolution of dining spaces tells us everything about how our relationship with food—and each other—has changed:

Medieval Times (5th-15th century):

There was no separation between cooking and living spaces. Cooking happened over an open hearth and dining was communal but hierarchical. Food was served on trenchers (stale bread plate).

Victorian Era (1837-1901):

Space was status. Kitchens moved to back of house. Separate dining rooms became symbols of class. Service areas were hidden from view and there as an emphasis on formality and ritual.

Mid-Century Modern (1945-1969):

People started to recognize the roles place and space play in various aspects of life. As the most natural gathering place, the concept of the kitchen as the "heart of home" emerges. This era introduces breakfast nooks, efficiency-focused design, and the rise of casual dining.

Today:

With the modern focus on open concept layouts to emphasize flow and community and multifunctional spaces, we see a massive prioritization on space and light as a sort of character in a meal. There’s also been a great return to cooking as entertainment which centers the kitchen in day to day life in a more substantial way.

Cultural Crossroads: How The World Dines

The habits and priorities when it comes to space and dining differs country to country. For example—

Japanese design features a lot of low tables and minimal decor. This is intended to promote mindfulness and reduce distraction when eating. The use of natural materials helps connect what you are eating to its ingredient origins and flexible spaces are great for adapting one room to meet multiple needs.

That said, Mediterranean style prioritizes different things. The tables are long for family style dining. You’ll see a lot of indoor-outdoor flow spaces between the kitchen, the dining room, and the outdoors because cooking is a spectacle, but there is also a cultural emphasis on lingering before, after, and between meals.

The Scandinavian approach exists somewhere in between. There is still the emphasis on functional minimalism like the Japanese, but this is married with the community-centered layouts of many Mediterranean homes. You’ll see lots of natural light and hygge-inspired cozy corners.

The Social Science of Space

How we arrange our dining spaces fundamentally affects how we interact.

Round Tables:

• Promote equal participation in conversation

• Increase food sharing

• Create more intimate atmosphere

• Encourage longer meals

Rectangular Tables:

• Establish clear hierarchy

• Better for large groups

• Support formal dining structure

• Create natural conversation pairs

The most successful dining spaces often combine elements. Think about your favorite restaurant. Odds are it has different types of seating for different social needs: maybe a bar for solo diners, booths for intimate conversations, and larger tables for groups.

The real magic happens when we design spaces that facilitate what anthropologists call "commensality"—the practice of eating together. A good dining space design can create natural conversation zones, encourage shared food preparation, support multi-generational gathering, and foster longer, more meaningful meals.

Looking Forward: The Future of Food Spaces

We're seeing a fascinating return to some historical dining patterns, but with modern twists:

• Cooking islands that double as dining tables

• Flexible spaces that adapt from casual to formal

• Technology integration that doesn't interrupt social connection

• Design that encourages cooking as entertainment

Much like what made the historical hearths so special, today’s dining spaces bring people together not just to eat, but to create, share, and connect. There are no set rules for how to make this happen though. You don't need a complete renovation to improve your dining experience—try:

1. Sound Management

• Add soft surfaces to absorb noise

• Use background music intentionally

• Consider acoustic panels

• Create conversation-friendly seating arrangements

2. Texture Play

• Mix materials thoughtfully

• Add natural elements

• Consider tactile contrasts

• Think about temperature variation

3. Scent Strategy

• Improve ventilation

• Use herbs and plants

• Consider natural air purifiers

• Create scent zones

The best dining space is one that makes you want to linger a little longer, talk a little more, and just exist in cooking and community.

Reply with your favorite dining space memory or the design element that makes your kitchen feel like home! See you next week!