A Restaurant for All Senses
There is a vintage-style diner in Dorset, England, just yards from the shoreline. It’s a casual lunch venue with simple food, but the views of sand, sea, and sky, and the smell of fresh sea air tinged with salt make it a popular destination for a sunny weekend lunch. A sublime experience? It wasn’t for me.
The coffee machine, which probably cost twice as much as my car and was twice as loud, hissed, whistled, and moaned over every shot. China clinked and clattered as cups and plates were distributed and collected at breakneck speed, and conversation was full volume to drown out the blaring 1960s music. It felt like trying to eat next to a speaker at a Motörhead concert: My stomach was in a knot before the first bite. Stylish bifold doors let sunshine flood in and reflect off every retro chrome fitting and tabletop until all I could see were silhouettes against blinding, white light, which added another layer of sensory input on top of the cacophony. The food on my plate was invisible until I donned sunglasses indoors, committing a fashion and social etiquette faux pas.
Ninety percent of autistic people have sensory processing disorder (SPD). Some are hyposensitive (or under-sensitive), meaning they need extra sensory input to feel grounded. But for most of us, hypersensitivity means we avoid sensory input, otherwise we quickly get overwhelmed.
“Overwhelmed” may not sound that bad, but sensory overwhelm is not just an emotion; it is a very physical reaction. Once sensory input becomes excessive, our brain can’t interpret all the competing information and the body goes into “fight, flight, or freeze” mode. This can cause a surge of epinephrine, inciting symptoms such as sweating, shaking, palpitations, and a general feeling of panic. In autism, this can lead to a shutdown and a need to retreat. We can lose the ability to process speech: I am aware someone is talking to me and recognize individual words, but I can’t grasp what the sentence means. If it’s particularly bad, I can’t form words in response. Soon exhaustion kicks in, and the aftereffects (that feel a bit like a hangover) last for another day.
In a study published in Autism in Adulthood in 2022, eateries were listed as one of the most disabling public places for autistic adults, owing to the sensory environment. I have found this to be true, and as much as I love food, eating out can be a traumatic event best avoided.
Sensory processing disorder is not exclusive to autism, although it is more common among the neurodivergent, affecting 80 percent of people with Tourette Syndrome and up to 69 percent with ADHD. In actuality, 20 to 30 percent of the global population have some sort of sensory sensitivity. That’s a lot of people who could enjoy eating out more if their needs were met.
I asked Natasha Dale of Design Collaborative Ltd—a commercial interior designer who creates accessible spaces—how restaurants can modify their venue for guests who have sensory processing disorder. She suggests focusing on key design elements to create a more comfortable and inclusive environment: a neutral color palette, fabrics that are tactile and soft in both color and pattern, and warm, white, dimmable LED lighting to help prevent sensory overload and promote a calm, peaceful environment. Sound-absorbing surfaces, such as acoustic wall or ceiling panels, plus rugs and upholstered furniture, can be added to reduce noise and minimize reverberation. Finally, layout is important: a well-defined, decluttered layout provides organization and familiarity, making circulation and navigation easier. Also, creating smaller, quieter areas within large open spaces can provide a sense of security and privacy.
While some of these suggestions are easier to include in a refurbishment project, others are low-budget quick-fixes, such as decluttering, reorganising tables, or adding sound-absorbing materials. It doesn’t take a full makeover or huge investment to make an environment more sensory-sensitivity friendly.
In a different industry, the question of how to create an accessible environment was considered by James Dewar-Haggart FCIMSPA Ch of Safe Spaces Group, a pioneer of inclusivity in sport. He works with gyms and personal trainers to help them meet the needs of neurodivergent clients, including those with sensory disorders. He suggests gyms offer exclusive quiet sessions at times when footfall is usually low. These sessions are literally quiet: no loud motivational music, a smaller number of clients, and coaches who have been trained to work with neurodivergent clientele. It’s still early days, but this approach is opening doors to a new audience who previously would have avoided gyms like the plague.
How could this apply to restaurants? Exclusive quiet times could be promoted as an eating experience for those with sensory sensitivities. Without music, bright lighting, and over-enthusiastic table-clearing, the sensory focus is on the food—not to the extent of restaurants like Dans Le Noir where you eat in total darkness, but certainly more so than a typical hospitality venue. A small amount of training could be given to staff to help them enhance the calm atmosphere, so that neurodivergent customers don’t feel rushed or judged, or overwhelmed by the menu alone. In addition to creating an inclusive venue that meets the needs of the neurodivergent, these adaptations can give restaurants an opportunity to widen their customer base.
Heston Blumenthal, a neurodivergent chef, once said in an interview, “To me, food is as much about the moment, the occasion, the location and the company as it is about the taste.” This is also true of eating out when you have sensory processing disorder. Perfectly prepared food is not delicious when your other senses are being assaulted. With just a few tweaks and adaptations—creating a calm, organized, and quiet environment hosted by understanding servers—dining out can be a pleasurable experience for us all.
Jude Bliss is a writer and bookworm with a love of food, science, and art. She is currently creating a free, evidence-based nutrition hub for neurodivergent adults. Jude also volunteers on neurodiversity advisory panels in the UK. She lives with her husband and Ken, the beloved stand mixer, cooking and writing her way toward the goal of making healthy eating accessible for everyone.
