Gastrophysics - the new science of eating / Prof Charles Spence interview

Sensory cues—sound, color, and even cutlery—can measurably change how food tastes, and the effects can carry from tightly controlled labs into real restaurants. Charles Spence, a sensory scientist and experimental psychologist, describes “gastrophysics” as the effort to treat eating as a multisensory experience: the brain blends smell, taste, sight, hearing, and touch into flavor, so changing any one cue can shift perceived sweetness, crunchiness, spiciness, and overall liking.

Spence’s best-known work centers on “Sonic seasoning,” including the “Sonic chip” experiment that earned an IG Nobel Prize for nutrition. Hungry undergraduates were given Pringles while researchers altered the crunch sound—making it louder or quieter and boosting or cutting high frequencies. The result was not just a change in how crunchy the chips sounded; participants rated them as about 15% more crunchy and fresher when the audio matched the intended crunch profile. The approach traces back to a classic psychology illusion (the “parchment skin” effect) where changing sound alters perceived touch sensations, then applies the same logic to food.

From there, the research expands beyond the crunch. Spence describes studies showing that the sound of crisp packets—wrinkling and rattling—can also enhance perceived crispness. He then connects sound to broader taste experiences, including ambient soundscapes (airplanes, the sea) and music designed to amplify specific flavors. For spiciness, lab experiments identify “spicy” sound characteristics—high pitch, high tempo, and high energy—and then translate those parameters into music. In restaurant trials, diners eating a spicy mango salad reported higher spiciness ratings when the restaurant played the matched “spicy” soundscape, with the effect appearing in naturalistic settings rather than only in controlled testing.

Color research follows a similar path: visual cues can’t be ignored even when people are told to focus elsewhere. Spence recounts experiments using colored fruit drinks where participants were instructed to ignore color and report flavor; they still couldn’t disregard it. He also describes a major plate-color study at the Alícia Foundation near Barcelona: the same strawberry mousse served on white versus black plates was rated roughly 9–13% higher for sweetness and flavor on the white plates. Over time, that line of work grew into dozens of published studies on how containers—plates, cups, bowls—shape taste judgments.

Gastrophysics then pushes into the “ignored” mechanics of eating. Spence notes that cutlery has rarely been studied scientifically, despite being central to how food reaches the mouth. He also highlights how plate shape and texture can matter, including collaborations with ceramic makers who produce designs intended to bring out sweetness or pungency through tactile and visual properties.

A key theme is experimental design across contexts. Spence describes using both lab settings (paid participants, systematic rating tasks, controlled conditions) and real-world environments (restaurants, cafes, large tasting events). He acknowledges expectancy and priming effects can complicate interpretation at massive scales, so researchers often look for consistency across both controlled and naturalistic settings.

Finally, Spence frames the next frontier as moving from “enhancing” known flavors to engineering extraordinary emotional responses—dishes that can trigger awe, ASMR-like chills, or even tears. He cites a Milan experiment with chef Federico Roy, where a rice pudding dish reportedly made about 60% of diners cry, and researchers are now testing which elements of the experience drive that reaction. The broader implication: multisensory design isn’t just for restaurants and food brands; it extends to retail atmospheres and even automotive safety, where Toyota used sound cues from behind the driver’s headrest to help drivers brake more quickly.