The fridge of no return
You open the fridge and spot a container that has been lurking at the back for an unspecified period of time.
You know what it is. You know roughly when you bought it. And, judging by the mysterious liquid gathering at one end, you strongly suspect it has passed beyond the point where a second chance is appropriate.
Naturally, you open the lid and have a sniff.
Your face immediately contorts into an expression normally reserved for discovering that someone has used your toothbrush to clean the kitchen sink.
You recoil. You shut the lid. Then, for reasons nobody can adequately explain, you have another sniff.
Just to be sure.
Why do we do this to ourselves?
Surely the first sniff was enough? Your nose has delivered its verdict. The evidence is overwhelming. The prosecution rests.
Yet we persist.
Part of the explanation is that smell is closely connected to memory and emotion. A familiar smell can bring back a vivid experience, while an unfamiliar or unpleasant one can make us wary. Our noses are useful warning systems, helping us notice when something might be wrong with food.
But there is a catch. Smell alone cannot reliably tell us whether food is safe to eat. Some harmful bacteria can be present without producing an obvious change in smell, appearance or taste.
So, while your nose may tell you that the leftovers have become a biological research project, a perfectly innocent smell doesn’t guarantee that they’re safe either.
The sensible response is to follow food-safety guidance, check storage times and conditions, and throw away anything you suspect is unsafe. Repeated sniffing is not a recognised laboratory test, however enthusiastic we become.
The second sniff: scientific breakthrough or wishful thinking?
Perhaps we’re hoping the first sniff was misleading.
Maybe the smell was just the container. Perhaps it was the fridge. Perhaps the food has somehow recovered since Tuesday.
We are, after all, remarkably good at negotiating with reality when the alternative involves admitting we’ve wasted food.
The second sniff becomes a tiny appeal process. We have already reached a conclusion, but we’re giving the evidence another hearing in the hope of a more favourable outcome.
It’s the same instinct that makes us press a lift button twice, even though the first press clearly registered, or check the front door handle after locking it.
We don’t necessarily need more information. We want reassurance.
Unfortunately, the universe is not obliged to provide it.
When in doubt, don’t sniff it out
There is something rather admirable about our determination to investigate. We could simply throw the suspicious container away, but no. We must conduct a forensic examination, preferably with our head halfway inside the fridge.
Still, there comes a point when common sense should win.
If the food looks suspicious, has been stored too long or may have been kept at an unsafe temperature, don’t rely on a sniff test. Follow reliable food-safety advice and bin it if necessary.
Your nose has done its best. It would quite like to return to smelling coffee, flowers and other things that don’t require a risk assessment.
Be honest: what’s the oldest thing you’ve ever found lurking at the back of your fridge? And did you really give it a sniff? Let me know in the comments below!
