What will heaven smell like?

I had a thought in the middle of the night, and although thoughts in the middle of the night usually are scary propositions, I stumbled out into the front room and found a piece of paper to scribble it on. I discovered, later, when I had resumed full consciousness (coffee helps) that I had written this new note over an old note that had been fulfilled and scratched out. But even though I could not read it, I still remembered the thought, perhaps simply because of having stumbled out of bed to write it down at 1:30 in the morning or whatever godawful time it was.

The thought is this: What will heaven smell like? Scripture and both Jewish and Christian extracanonical apocalyptic literature abound with descriptions of what the faithful who endure to the end will see, hear, taste, and touch on the other side of the cord--or whatever--but to my recollection there is not much at all in the way of what the faithful will smell when they get to heaven.

By contrast, there is plenty of description of what hell smells like: sulfur, brimstone, burnt things, rottenness, dankness, probably even waste material, decaying flesh...all sorts of wonderful things that you love reading about, especially right after breakfast. Near Manila as I am, my nose is filled will all manner of unsavory aromas, such that Han Solo's complaint to Princess Leia was the first thing on my mind when I stepped out of the airport into the city back in June. I've gotten used to diesel fumes, though my lungs are probably filled with soot by now, and you never quite get used to the odor of a public market with fresh fish (including the heads) mixed with chicken mixed with durian mixed with pork mixed with mangoes mixed with avocadoes mixed with rice mixed with various and sundry vegetables mixed with...well, you get the idea.

But, alas...I can recall nothing from apocalyptic literature on what heaven should smell like. There are descriptions of sights: angels, golden streets, heavenly host, visions of God, sometimes clouds. There are descriptions of things to touch: beautiful buildings, tapestries, again with the golden streets. There are descriptions of sounds: harps, pleasant conversation, unceasing worship of God. There are descriptions of tastes: sumptuous food (that seems never to make you fat), abundant drinks, fruits, vegetables--all the great stuff I might find at the public market, but without the scent. And that "without the scent" has a dual meaning, of course. On one level, the (generally) good food available at a public market often is masked over by the mixed aroma, and so in heaven you don't have the unpleasant smells to go with the food. But on the other level, there is no description of what anything would smell like. To conclude, this idiomatic question seems oddly appropriate:

Is this a cutting off of the nose to spite the face?