To celebrate our anniversary, my partner and I dine in a trendy London restaurant in Hackney with a Michelin star – my first time in such a place. A crispy little bonbon is introduced to us simply as “Pine, kvass lees and vin brûlé.”
I watch my partner light up, the flickering candle in her eyes, as the waiter sets the thing down. The impact of the aroma has already registered on her face. With her first bite she is transported to her childhood in Massachusetts.
“Gosh,” she gasps, closing her eyes as a New England virgin pine forest explodes in her mind. When she blinks open, returning to the here and now, she looks at me guiltily. I take a bite and wince. No coniferous wonderland for me. Just unpleasant bitterness, confined very much to the tongue.
I am pleased for her, truly. I’m a magnanimous guy. But from that moment on, the whole evening is a bit of a spectator sport and, by the end of it, I have a feeling that she is even playing her enjoyment down, muting her reactions, as if to say, “You’re not missing out.” She finds some dishes prove more successful than others – the sweetness of cherry, an umami-rich mushroom – but I
am missing out: on the nuances, the emotions, the memories. The smell.
It’s been three years since I lost it. November 2020. I was living with three friends in a flat in Glasgow when we all caught Covid in the pre-vaccine days. Two of us lost our smell and never fully recovered it. We’re in good company.
Around 700,000 people in the UK are believed to have total smell loss caused by the virus, with around six million still experiencing some olfactory dysfunction. I estimate mine has returned by about 30%, but it’s inconsistent and often distorted.
To summarise my symptoms of anosmia, as total or partial loss of smell is known: some things have a faint odour, some don’t smell as they should and others don’t smell at all.
For example: basil smells mild but good, ground coffee and a certain brand of toothpaste smell like fish and, mercifully, sheet doesn’t stink at all. Apart from the latter, all bad news.
Sometimes, I get one glorious accurate sniff of something before it disappears. It’s as if my olfactory receptors wake up to the novelty of a scent, but immediately become bored and go back to sleep. If I cut open an orange, I’ll get a floral, citrus hit on the first inhale – oh my God, my nose has returned! But when I take another whiff, I get nothing back……..
https://www.theguardian.com/science...e-of-smell-after-covid?CMP=Share_iOSApp_Other