You might not now this but the simple act of chewing has a big impact on your brain health. In this article, we explore why texture and oral care matter so much.
Drawing on insights from neuropsychologist Prof. Dr. Erik Scherder, you’ll see how a “chew-first” mindset can turn dinner from mere calories into real brain therapy.
Chewing has more health benefits than you might think - (Image Credit: Krakenimages com via Shutterstock / HDR tune by Universal-Sci)
Neuropsychologist Prof. Dr. Erik Scherder makes a deceptively simple claim: if we want healthier brains—especially in people living with dementia—we need to take chewing and oral care far more seriously.
It’s an unexpected thesis, introduced with a wry observation from his evening rounds on psychogeriatric wards. Around dinnertime, the food cart rolls by brimming with soft foods—custard and porridge. For some residents, this is necessary: swallowing problems (dysphagia) can make solid food risky. But Scherder points out a quiet mismatch: while roughly 30% may truly need a soft diet, many others still can chew—yet aren’t given the chance. In that gap, he argues, we lose something vital for both brain and person.
Chewing is movement
Scherder starts with the science. Small studies (he’s careful to note they’re not all blockbuster trials) have found that chewing—yes, even gum—can nudge memory performance upward. Mechanisms are still being untangled, but two immediate effects are clear:
Heart rate rises when we chew, a modest activation akin to very light exercise.
Cerebral blood flow increases, notably through the middle cerebral artery (arteria cerebri media)—one of the brain’s major highways and the vessel implicated in a large share of ischemic strokes.
For older adults who can no longer walk safely, Scherder suggests chewing is an accessible, alternative form of activity—a way to stimulate the brain and circulation without leaving a chair.
The cost of sidelining the mouth
From here, the story becomes quietly devastating. Scherder describes common scenes: ill-fitting dentures, swapped or misplaced dental plates, and the resulting frustration and passivity. The anecdotes are funny at first—until you realise their implications.
If a resident’s denture doesn’t sit right, they won’t chew. If they won’t chew, they won’t enjoy food. If they don’t enjoy food, they eat less, interact less, and withdraw further.
This is where Scherder’s clinical lens widens from “nutrition” to neuropsychology. Eating is not just caloric intake; it’s oral sensation—taste, smell, texture, temperature—the theatre of flavour that lights up the orbitofrontal cortex. Encouragingly, Scherder notes that circuitry in this region can remain relatively preserved for a long time in dementia. That means enjoyment is still reachable. A warm roll with a crisp crust, a slice of apple, a spiced meatball—when safely possible—can awaken brain areas that help sustain motivation, mood, and engagement.
A preventable tragedy
The following is a true story: An older man with dementia became agitated in the late afternoon—“sundowning,” staff believed. He was restrained between 4 p.m. and 7 p.m. to keep him and others safe. Weeks became months; photographs show him slumped in chairs and bed, arms hanging, face strained. A heartbreaking state of affairs...
Then a dentist looked in his mouth. Severe dental decay—rotting down to the roots—was the likely driver of his agitation. After treatment, the restraints were removed. He remained a person with dementia, but he was calmer, brighter, more himself—smiling again in the garden. Scherder’s question lingers: How often does this happen—worldwide—simply because we don’t look inside the mouth?
What this means for care homes—and for us
Scherder is emphatic: this is not a criticism of caregivers. Nurses and aides are sacred in his words, working under chronic staffing pressure.
His point is systemic. If we designed elder care around the brain as well as the body, oral care and chewing would be non-negotiable parts of daily therapy.
Here’s what that looks like in practice:
Screen the mouth routinely. Check teeth, gums, pressure points, and denture fit. Pain, ulcers, and infections drive agitation and malnutrition—and they’re treatable.
Restore the right to chew (when safe). Use individualised assessments to determine who truly needs a soft diet. For everyone else, offer chewable textures and time to eat.
Treat chewing as an activity. For residents who can’t walk much, structured chewing sessions—with safe foods or sugar-free gum when appropriate—can add brain-directed stimulation.
Design for pleasure, not just calories. Re-introduce aroma, temperature, and texture. Think crunchy, warm, and flavorful within safety limits. The goal is to light up the orbitofrontal cortex—to make food worth anticipating again.
Protect the dentures. Label clearly, store correctly, and maintain hygiene. A well-fitting denture is the difference between passive spoon-feeding and an autonomous meal.
Train and resource the team. Give staff time, tools, and backup from dental professionals. Oral health is interdisciplinary care, not an afterthought.
Why this matters
Chewing is easy to underestimate. It isn’t a blockbuster drug, a new scanner, or a fancy protocol. It’s everyday physiology that links movement, blood flow, pleasure, and memory. In Scherder’s framing, choosing custard for convenience when a person could safely manage a carrot isn’t a small compromise—it’s a missed therapeutic opportunity.
And behind the science sits something more human.
To chew is to participate: to decide the pace of your meal, to savour a favourite flavour, to finish a plate on your own terms. For people living with dementia, those moments of agency are rare—and precious. As Scherder puts it, when we give them back, we activate what’s still there.
A call to look inside the mouth
The next time agitation rises on a ward, or when a once-eager eater begins to refuse meals, open the mouth before you tighten the straps.
Pain and poor fit are solvable. And the next time the dinner cart rolls by, ask a simple question: Who here can still chew? Then serve accordingly.
Prof. Dr. Erik Scherder’s message is disarmingly practical: chew more, check more, and choose pleasure. If we do, we’ll nourish not just bodies, but brains—and the personhood that persists even as memory fades.
Sources, further reading and more interesting articles on the subject of Health, Mind & Brain:
How you sleep might reveal early signs of Alzheimer’s disease - (Universal-Sci)
The number of people living with dementia could triple in 30 years, scientists predict - (Universal-Sci)
Why it’s harder for some older adults to remember both a name and the face that goes with it - (Universal-Sci)
What Processed Red Meat May Be Doing to Your Brain Health - (Universal-Sci)
Can hearing aids help prevent dementia? - (Universal-Sci)
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