I’d barely squinted my way through reading the appetizers at a dimly lit Chicago bistro before we gave up and my friend grabbed the pretty brass table lamp to use as a light. When my friend asked a server to explain an unfamiliar dish, she too strained her eyes over the menu. No one—diner or staff—could see a thing.
I’ve made a common practice of holding up votive candles to decipher the menu in pitch-dark basement wine bars, and shining my unlocked phone toward my plate to see the fish at a low-lit omakase. Across from me, my date’s face flickers in and out of sight like a ghost.
With their lighting, restaurants aim to strike a balance between functionality and the immersive theater they’re inviting diners into for a few hours. Unfortunately, diners and restaurant owners don’t always agree on what constitutes bright enough.
“Why are the majority of sit down restaurants so dark?” asked one Redditor a few months ago. Ambiance! someone replied in cheeky quotations. Some suspicious users guessed that the dimness hid grime on dishes or flaws in the food. A handful defended low lighting for helping “set the mood” or creating a more “romantic” setting.
“Low-lit spaces offer a cozy, private atmosphere separate from our everyday world,” says Whitney Walsh Cardozo, chef-owner of Chez Foushee Restaurant & Bar in Richmond. “Like color, lighting impacts people.” But finding the equilibrium between sultry world-building and enough visibility to read the menu is a delicate business. Chez Foushee complements its muted green walls with sconces that cast a soft upward glow. An alabaster chandelier illuminates “just enough of the bar area,” and small table lights emit sufficient light to see what’s going on, while an additional candle on each table establishes the mood.
Lighting has to serve multiple purposes. There’s general lighting to set the tone, brighter task lighting to help chefs and servers carry out their jobs, and accent lighting to draw attention to certain areas of the restaurant or up the ambiance. A soft spotlight over a table, drippy wax tabletop candles, or a spindly chandelier above the bar might draw diners’ attention to unique design elements or submerge them in a sexy dining room.
Accent lights are great for establishing a vibe, but deployed haphazardly, things can go from alluring to blackout-dark.
Industry pros often veer quite dim in their lighting preferences. Erin Boone, the founder and principal designer at Boone Interiors, prefers the immersiveness of a dark restaurant. When she visits restaurants she’s designed after they open, she routinely thinks they are far too bright.
“I think this is oftentimes a result of ‘caving’ to patrons who are complaining about the light levels being too dark,” she says. Depending on how receptive the client is, she may bring it up and coax them to go dimmer. “All restaurants should be designed for adjustable lighting that can change throughout the evening and also go ‘full tilt’ at night for cleaning.”
Dark dining rooms might be all about the vibes, but nothing kills the mood faster than a room full of diners pulling out their flashlights to decipher the menu—often what happens when no one can see.
“I get it, people have to take their phone light out and shine it on the menu, but many of them forget it’s on and just keep holding their phone in their hand and shining it in other people’s eyes,” says Hsing Chen, cofounder of Eat Well Hospitality in Chicago, which operates Spanish steakhouse Asador Bastian along with several other restaurants. “Everyone needs to be able to see, but shine it down, then turn it off.”
To mitigate these issues when Eat Well opens a new restaurant, co-founder and president Doug Psaltis and director of operations Luis Aguilar spend the first few days and nights tweaking the lighting. “It’s super annoying,” laughs Chen, “but it’s necessary.”
In some dark dining rooms, restaurateurs find creative ways to help people see. At steakhouse Hemlock in Boise, Idaho, they go so far as to fight the elements with tinted windows. Instead of letting in the sun, they provide light-up magnifying cards so diners can read, says Scott Slater, president of the restaurant group that runs Hemlock. After all, they worked hard to craft a sultry, escapist mood. “We want to control every aspect intentionally,” Slater says. “Especially the lighting.”