The moment I hear Law & Order's distinctive two-beat intro, my salivary glands flood. I watch this week's corpse discovery, then take the first commercial break to hustle out to the Sub-Zero. Two huge scoops of Vanilla Swiss Almond Häagen-Dazs in an oversize bowl later, I'm back in the company of police who investigate crime and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders. Over the next 15 minutes, those voluptuous mounds of ice cream, along with their bustier of chocolate sauce and Reddi-wip, disappear someplace.
Under cross-examination by Jack McCoy, I could probably be witness-badgered into specifying where this someplace is. Right now, however, I'm too distracted to remember or care. Another commercial comes on, and I feel a sudden vague sense that my life needs balance. Something crunchy, perhaps something with salt. Oh, and add something that will make this first combo of somethings easier to swallow.
By the time the jury finds the perp-o'-the-week guilty, an 8-inch stack of Zesta saltines and a 16-ounce Coke have slurried off together, crunch by crunch, sip by sip, in search of the missing Häagen-Dazs. Most men think, if we think about it at all, that the urge to eat is simple. We become hungry, we seek food, we shovel same into our maws, we feel full, we stop. After a suitable interlude, the cycle starts anew.
But hunger (appetite's physiological accelerator) and satiety (its brakes) are not the only reasons we start and stop eating. Researchers in the burgeoning field of food psychology have pinpointed a complex web of cues in the modern environment that all but overwhelm our once-adaptive systems: societal shifts in what constitutes appropriate portion sizes; the colors, embedded scents, and promotional language used in food packaging; the distracting effects of TV viewing during meals. These are just a few of the ubiquitous hidden persuaders that have converted eating from a natural human need into a national hobby.
Part of the problem is the sheer number of times we're confronted with food decisions. According to a University of Illinois study, the average American makes more than 200 choices each day, most executed on a quasi-conscious level. Yogurt or a sticky bun for breakfast? A garden salad or Double Whopper for lunch? Celery sticks or pork rinds with a pilsner or pale ale after work?
Psychologists in labs around the world, to be sure, have an interest in understanding what motivates such decisions and perhaps nowhere more so than in the labs at major food corporations. Whether it's Frito-Lay or Burger King, Dannon or Pillsbury, they're all in business to optimize profits. If tweaking the minutiae of consumer psychology will make their products more tempting than the competition's, you can bet they'll do so.
"Nowadays, companies are investing a lot of money to figure out this kind of information," says Leslie Harrington, Ph.D., founder of LH Color, a Connecticut-based company that advises food manufacturers on ways to leverage color's psychological effects. "You can't change behavior by cognition alone," she says. "You need to engage a consumer's emotions, and color is just one of many ways to do this."
The Science of Appetite
University and government researchers, for their part, approach food psychology from a different perspective. Most here are seeking strategies to steer us willingly, that is toward healthier diets, hoping in the process to not only save lives but also avoid a fortune in future medical costs from today's obesity epidemic.
For Brian Wansink, Ph.D., director of the Cornell University food and brand lab, part of the answer lies in a "know the enemy" approach. In his book, Mindless Eating: Why We Eat More Than We Think, Wansink condenses years of research into practical lessons for recognizing and circumventing the myriad influences that promote autopilot eating. "The goal," he says, "is to re-engineer your food life so you can enjoy eating without obsessing."
This doesn't just mean eating less junk. The same techniques that push Ho Hos and Häagen-Dazs can also help us eat better-quality fare, from five-a-day fruits and vegetables to soluble fiber and omega-3 fats. By better understanding how food psychology influences us, we can avoid being blinded by a false glow, and simultaneously add more luster to the foods our bodies really need.
Under cross-examination by Jack McCoy, I could probably be witness-badgered into specifying where this someplace is. Right now, however, I'm too distracted to remember or care. Another commercial comes on, and I feel a sudden vague sense that my life needs balance. Something crunchy, perhaps something with salt. Oh, and add something that will make this first combo of somethings easier to swallow.
By the time the jury finds the perp-o'-the-week guilty, an 8-inch stack of Zesta saltines and a 16-ounce Coke have slurried off together, crunch by crunch, sip by sip, in search of the missing Häagen-Dazs. Most men think, if we think about it at all, that the urge to eat is simple. We become hungry, we seek food, we shovel same into our maws, we feel full, we stop. After a suitable interlude, the cycle starts anew.
But hunger (appetite's physiological accelerator) and satiety (its brakes) are not the only reasons we start and stop eating. Researchers in the burgeoning field of food psychology have pinpointed a complex web of cues in the modern environment that all but overwhelm our once-adaptive systems: societal shifts in what constitutes appropriate portion sizes; the colors, embedded scents, and promotional language used in food packaging; the distracting effects of TV viewing during meals. These are just a few of the ubiquitous hidden persuaders that have converted eating from a natural human need into a national hobby.
Part of the problem is the sheer number of times we're confronted with food decisions. According to a University of Illinois study, the average American makes more than 200 choices each day, most executed on a quasi-conscious level. Yogurt or a sticky bun for breakfast? A garden salad or Double Whopper for lunch? Celery sticks or pork rinds with a pilsner or pale ale after work?
Psychologists in labs around the world, to be sure, have an interest in understanding what motivates such decisions and perhaps nowhere more so than in the labs at major food corporations. Whether it's Frito-Lay or Burger King, Dannon or Pillsbury, they're all in business to optimize profits. If tweaking the minutiae of consumer psychology will make their products more tempting than the competition's, you can bet they'll do so.
"Nowadays, companies are investing a lot of money to figure out this kind of information," says Leslie Harrington, Ph.D., founder of LH Color, a Connecticut-based company that advises food manufacturers on ways to leverage color's psychological effects. "You can't change behavior by cognition alone," she says. "You need to engage a consumer's emotions, and color is just one of many ways to do this."
The Science of Appetite
University and government researchers, for their part, approach food psychology from a different perspective. Most here are seeking strategies to steer us willingly, that is toward healthier diets, hoping in the process to not only save lives but also avoid a fortune in future medical costs from today's obesity epidemic.
For Brian Wansink, Ph.D., director of the Cornell University food and brand lab, part of the answer lies in a "know the enemy" approach. In his book, Mindless Eating: Why We Eat More Than We Think, Wansink condenses years of research into practical lessons for recognizing and circumventing the myriad influences that promote autopilot eating. "The goal," he says, "is to re-engineer your food life so you can enjoy eating without obsessing."
This doesn't just mean eating less junk. The same techniques that push Ho Hos and Häagen-Dazs can also help us eat better-quality fare, from five-a-day fruits and vegetables to soluble fiber and omega-3 fats. By better understanding how food psychology influences us, we can avoid being blinded by a false glow, and simultaneously add more luster to the foods our bodies really need.
The Atmospheres of AppetiteThough it doesn't appear on a list of ingredients, one of a food's most seductive additives is the setting in which it's served.
Restaurateurs from McDonald's to Ruth's Chris Steak House have long understood how critical ambience is to sales. Not surprisingly, the choice of atmosphere will differ dramatically, depending on how an establishment wants to make those sales. In the case of fast-food emporia, profits depend on speed eating, whereas at high-end restaurants, the goal is to keep diners ensconced long enough to "up-sell" them drinks, appetizers, and desserts.
One of the most common techniques used to achieve both ends is color. "Bright red, for example, is the color to stimulate your appetite," says color expert Harrington. "It also increases adrenaline and blood pressure and makes you physically want to move." It's no accident that the benches at every McDonald's are not only bright red but also bruisingly hard on the buttocks. The last thing you want en route to selling 80 billion burgers are loitering customers.
Contrast this approach with a high-end steak house. Managers here want you ravenous, too but they also want you to linger long enough to run up a drink tab and other expenses. "These places still use red to stimulate appetite," says Harrington, "but they tone it down to a softer burgundy or wine color." The soft seating here could be endorsed by post-op hemorrhoid patients.
To further encourage leisurely dining, upscale restaurants also frequently use muted lights and soothing music. Of course, you'll never find candelabra and Chopin anywhere near a bucket of chicken. If such places can't lure clientele onto the drive-thru conveyer belt, they'll at least make their interiors as energizing to the senses as possible.
For reasons that aren't completely understood, men seem particularly vulnerable to such manipulations. "Bright lights, loud noises, and reflective surfaces cause most everyone to eat faster," says Lenny R. Vartanian, Ph.D., lead author of a recent study in Appetite that examined factors influencing food consumption. "But environmental stimulation causes men to really speed up their eating it has a much more exaggerated influence."
Another highly provocative sense is smell. A mere whiff of something delicious increases salivation and the release of pancreatic enzymes, readying our bodies to be fed. Wansink has dubbed this the "Cinnabon Effect" after an aroma credited with generating $200 million in annual sticky-bun sales.
"I've been in food courts where it seems like restaurants are battling," says Armand V. Cardello, Ph.D., a food psychologist at the U.S. Army Natick Labs. "Every 5 feet you walk, you're hit with a different smell."
Short of wearing nose clips, earplugs, and welder's glasses when dining out, there's not much we can do to eliminate this assault on our senses. Still, knowing what we're up against can move such marketing ploys from unconsciousness to awareness, where we have at least a fighting chance of resisting or avoiding them.
At home, where we do have some control over our eating environment, we can use these same marketing strategies to our benefit. For example, "even broccoli tastes better by candlelight," says Wansink. He recommends a few guy-specific tactics, as well. For at least 30 minutes of your meal, turn off the TV and instead play your favorite slow music softly in the background. Use decent china, which sends the message "fine dining ahead!" as opposed to plastic plates and bowls, which proclaim "time to spork down some biomass." Perhaps most important, serve food at a table where you've previously enjoyed celebratory meals not on a TV tray where you've previously celebrated sports victories.
If your goal is simply to eat less, try a more radical approach to ambience. "Blue is the color most associated with mold and decay in food," says Harrington. "The greatest diet tip I know is simply to put a blue lightbulb in your refrigerator."
Restaurateurs from McDonald's to Ruth's Chris Steak House have long understood how critical ambience is to sales. Not surprisingly, the choice of atmosphere will differ dramatically, depending on how an establishment wants to make those sales. In the case of fast-food emporia, profits depend on speed eating, whereas at high-end restaurants, the goal is to keep diners ensconced long enough to "up-sell" them drinks, appetizers, and desserts.
One of the most common techniques used to achieve both ends is color. "Bright red, for example, is the color to stimulate your appetite," says color expert Harrington. "It also increases adrenaline and blood pressure and makes you physically want to move." It's no accident that the benches at every McDonald's are not only bright red but also bruisingly hard on the buttocks. The last thing you want en route to selling 80 billion burgers are loitering customers.
Contrast this approach with a high-end steak house. Managers here want you ravenous, too but they also want you to linger long enough to run up a drink tab and other expenses. "These places still use red to stimulate appetite," says Harrington, "but they tone it down to a softer burgundy or wine color." The soft seating here could be endorsed by post-op hemorrhoid patients.
To further encourage leisurely dining, upscale restaurants also frequently use muted lights and soothing music. Of course, you'll never find candelabra and Chopin anywhere near a bucket of chicken. If such places can't lure clientele onto the drive-thru conveyer belt, they'll at least make their interiors as energizing to the senses as possible.
For reasons that aren't completely understood, men seem particularly vulnerable to such manipulations. "Bright lights, loud noises, and reflective surfaces cause most everyone to eat faster," says Lenny R. Vartanian, Ph.D., lead author of a recent study in Appetite that examined factors influencing food consumption. "But environmental stimulation causes men to really speed up their eating it has a much more exaggerated influence."
Another highly provocative sense is smell. A mere whiff of something delicious increases salivation and the release of pancreatic enzymes, readying our bodies to be fed. Wansink has dubbed this the "Cinnabon Effect" after an aroma credited with generating $200 million in annual sticky-bun sales.
"I've been in food courts where it seems like restaurants are battling," says Armand V. Cardello, Ph.D., a food psychologist at the U.S. Army Natick Labs. "Every 5 feet you walk, you're hit with a different smell."
Short of wearing nose clips, earplugs, and welder's glasses when dining out, there's not much we can do to eliminate this assault on our senses. Still, knowing what we're up against can move such marketing ploys from unconsciousness to awareness, where we have at least a fighting chance of resisting or avoiding them.
At home, where we do have some control over our eating environment, we can use these same marketing strategies to our benefit. For example, "even broccoli tastes better by candlelight," says Wansink. He recommends a few guy-specific tactics, as well. For at least 30 minutes of your meal, turn off the TV and instead play your favorite slow music softly in the background. Use decent china, which sends the message "fine dining ahead!" as opposed to plastic plates and bowls, which proclaim "time to spork down some biomass." Perhaps most important, serve food at a table where you've previously enjoyed celebratory meals not on a TV tray where you've previously celebrated sports victories.
If your goal is simply to eat less, try a more radical approach to ambience. "Blue is the color most associated with mold and decay in food," says Harrington. "The greatest diet tip I know is simply to put a blue lightbulb in your refrigerator."
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