3’s a Breeze – Olfactory Overload

Downstairs

I woke up to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee this morning – a delightful start to a day. I knew better than to expect a steaming cup to magically appear on my kitchen counter even in my sleepy state – Chester hasn’t progressed much past licking crumbs off the floor in his pursuit to dominate the kitchen. The coffee was being brewed upstairs – my kitchen was still quiet and diffused with the odor of the failed cauliflower stew I made last night.

The people upstairs have a decidedly more exotic life than I do – their house wafts the essence of a French cafe while mine smells like a giant dog fart.

I know heat rises (I learned that at school) but I think stink moves horizontally (at least I hope it does). I would hate to think the entire house reeked of my failed culinary adventure.

There are so many pros to this new living arrangement it makes the cons almost inconsequential – but there are some. The stench of an overcooked cauliflower stew could be one of them.

This is not my first misdemeanor – I had to apologize for the disgusting scent of rancid cooking oil I tried to pop corn in the other night – upstairs dismissed the apology and offered to send down microwave popcorn for my next attempt. It was mentioned in passing that one of the parties upstairs had been accused of wiping popcorn hands on the furniture prior to the arrival of my apology – perhaps I should have extended apologies to him as well. (my theory about stink traveling horizontally may not be as sound as I thought.)

Hopefully for Upstairs Downstairs has learned something from this experience and will try to stick to a less fragrant cuisine – or at least keep a closer eye on what’s being overcooked on the stove.

Next up – a new recipe for broccoli soup.

Upstairs

“What’s that smell?”

Smell. One of our five (six?) senses that allow us to interact with the world. Our senses provide us with stimuli that shape our experiences and inform our actions. I love smells. One of my favourite things about riding a motorcycle is that you are IN the surrounding environment, and when you crack the visor on your helmet it acts like a funnel, blasting your face with the air and whatever temperature, texture, or smell it may have. This can understandably have positive effects or negative effects; the smell of fields being fertilised in the spring could be considered almost a taste for its intensity, and every motorcycle rider knows about the drivers with obnoxiously dirty diesel exhaust. On the positive side, for almost a decade I lived in a town that was the world headquarters of M&M-Mars, the candy/chocolate company, and the smell of chocolate would carry on the morning fog, so intense you could also taste it. 

Deciding to live with my scent sensitive spouse five years ago has changed things somewhat. We don’t use scented detergent, dryer sheets, perfume, candles or cleaners. About the smelliest things around our place are mild essential oils such as lavender and mint, deodorant, food… and dogs.

The subject of dog farts is a different story. As I mentioned in a previous post, we have a French Bulldog. Frenchies are beautiful, funny, smart, charismatic critters, who happen to be rotting on the inside. Much like the fertilised fields, or the valley of chocolate, the odor of a frenchie fart is palatable. It lingers. It works it way around whatever is covering your face and mouth and causes uncontrollable tears to flow and the occasional nose to run. It is also audible; you can hear a frenchie fart. Sometimes it is a small “pffft” and other times it will sound like a 13 year-old after burrito night. Frenchies often will wake themselves from a nap with a toot and will leave the room, deciding on escape rather than laying in their own noxious cloud. The amount of consideration I have given this topic should tell you how serious I am.

Chester is generally smelly. He’s a water dog with fur that keeps him warm and dry but carries a bit of an odor. We know it’s not his fault, but once that smell gets into things, it’s staying. Petting Chester leaves you with a reminder of his love until you wash your hands.

Now to the topic of the cauliflower stew. I can confirm that smell, as with heat, does rise. I would rate the stew as less initially noxious than frenchie farts, but with the staying power of wet Chesapeake. It could have been worse, I could have just made another pot of coffee and put a cup at the top of the stairs.