Viands
Sexy Food for Valentine’s Day
Of oysters, chocolate, and much more:
By David Gibbons
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Photo by Brett C Vermilyea
Geoffrey Zakarian, at his restaurant Country, shares several sexy recipes.
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Picture yourself, ladies, slowly parting your lips, gently puckering them around a beautifully proportioned, plump stalk of just-picked asparagus, lightly braised, served warm and inviting. Take a moment, gentlemen, to imagine round, juicy, ripe cantaloupes, firm yet delicate and yielding to the touch. Your mouth starts to water, doesn’t it? But not necessarily because you’re hungry for fresh vegetables or melons…
Food and sex have been inextricably entwined in the human consciousness since we learned to walk upright. If this notion doesn’t preoccupy our minds at any other time of the year, it certainly does in the middle of the coldest month when we celebrate our warmest holiday by giving our sweethearts gifts of heart-shaped chocolates or taking them out for a special candle-lit dinner. What better time than the eve of Valentine’s Day to explore the possibilities of food for love?
Enhancing sex and romance — prolonging and enlarging the experience in every sense — has always been a compelling concern of homo sapiens. For this reason, folk medicine and kitchen lore have focused on aphrodisiacs since ancient times.
Animals copulate quickly and from behind — mostly. it is believed, so they can maintain awareness of danger and, if necessary, make a quick escape. Humans do it face to face — supposedly one of the main distinctions rendering us superior to our fellow mammals. Do baboons employ French-kissing as foreplay? Does the thought of eating a banana arouse an orangutan? Do we know? Do we care? What we do know is that facing our partners affords us humans the opportunity of giving and receiving pleasure by mouth, one of the keys to enjoying sex and also, of course, food.
These two magnificent obsessions appear side-by-side in literature and song. Down through the ages, clever artists have repeatedly summoned eating metaphors to describe the desires — and acts — of love. (“I’m hungry for you, baby!”) Bob Marley, the late, great Jamaican reggae ambassador and No. 1 World Music superstar, said it as well as anybody in his 1973 hit “Stir It Up”: “Quench me when I’m thirsty/Cool me down when I’m hot/Your recipe, darlin’, is so tasty/And you sure can stir your pot.”
Anyway, I think you begin to get the point: Art imitates life; food and sex go hand in hand. Perpetuating the life force is about nourishment and procreation. Meanwhile, as part of the deal, we might as well enjoy the extra added bonus of some sexual — and perhaps even romantic — fulfillment.
If food and sex go together, so do love and lust. We’re all hungry for a rich treat at one time or another of the day, a reward for a job well done, a break from the monotony of toil. By the same token, hopefully we’re grown-up enough to stop short of gluttony or excess. A good old friend of mine, whom I consider an expert in amorous pursuits, offers the following observation: “If I’m eating out, I think the sexiest thing a woman can do is go at her food with gusto. I mean, I don’t want to see barbecue sauce smeared all over her jaw, but if she shows she appreciates food — has appetites — I consider it a good sign.” (Shades of the famous eating scene in the classic 1963 film adaptation of Henry Fielding’s 18th-century novel Tom Jones?)
My friend points out another strong connection between food and sex: smell. The allure of aromas is a crucial component in both arenas. “If (s)he is going to cook, the sexiest thing is to walk in and smell something absolutely delicious. So cook something you think smells great while you’re cooking it. If (s)he doesn’t like what you like in terms of smell, you’re probably not going to get along in the long-term anyway.” Over the past few decades, scientists have begun to explore the role played in sex by pheromones — chemicals exuded by our bodies and perceived by the scent organs of potential mates.
They have also begun to investigate, in greater depth, how the tastes of food are conveyed largely by smell, through the nasopharyngeal connection between the nose and throat. In other words, you will remember the smells of the foods you crave and the people you’re hot for — and science can back that up.
Smell and taste are two of the more powerful, suggestive elements contributing to the buildup and crescendo that properly enhance all sensual pleasures. In love and lust, half the fun is in the chase; sex without foreplay is ultimately not all that satisfying. The same is true when it comes to food: without the anticipatory rituals of imagining, planning, shopping for, and prepping a meal, without those mouth-watering aromas wafting through the house, your romantic desires will most certainly vanish into thin air. You might as well order take-out, watch a movie and go right to sleep.
Isabel Allende’s best-selling Aphrodite: A Memoir of the Senses (1998) is full of tantalizing and amusing anecdotes, quotable quotes, and fascinating lore — as one might expect from a smart, sexy 50-something writer of her immense talents. She opens with this evocation: “The fiftieth year of our life is like the last hour of dusk, when the sun has set and one turns naturally toward reflection. In my case, however, dusk incites me to sin, and perhaps for that reason, in my fiftieth year I find myself reflecting on my relationship with food and eroticism …” She articulates the fundamental food-sex connection beautifully: “Appetite and sex are the great motivators of history; they preserve and propagate the species, they provoke wars and songs, they influence religion, law, and art.” And on the next page: “The bond between food and sensual pleasure is the first thing we learn at birth. The sensation of the baby clamped to the maternal teat, immersed in its mother’s warmth and smell, is purely erotic and leaves an ineradicable mark on the remainder of that individual’s life. From nursing to death, food and sex go hand in hand.”
Ultimately, though, Allende’s memoir-cum-cookbook is disappointing. Her tallies of sexy foods read a little too much like your common grocery lists. Here is her “subjective list of aphrodisiac vegetables”: artichoke, asparagus, bean, carrot, celery, corn, cucumber, eggplant, endive, escarole lettuce, garbanzo, garlic, leek, mushroom, onion, pepper and/or chili, rice, spinach, tomato, truffle, turnip, watercress, wheat. There are many more lists, which include just about every type of seafood and three pages of fruits. (Did I mention cheese, eggs, and frog’s legs?)
Maybe we should be told which foods are not aphrodisiac; at least the lists would be shorter. It’s hard to imagine how a hearty Catalan soup, from that author’s matronly and imposing literary agent Carmen Balcells, made with chicken, sausage, chickpeas, pig’s feet, ham hock, potatoes, and bacon, could boost one’s libido. Delicious and authentic, yes. But sexy? Probably not. Ditto the tomato and onion sauce, which looks to be a good base for almost any pasta dish but not the path to amorous arousal or conjugal ecstasy. Perhaps Ms. Allende’s choice of her mother as recipe-writer was not as inspired as her many insights into the history and tradition of erotic eating.
In its tally of aphrodisiacs, the Larousse Gastronomique, France’s quintessential gourmet reference, includes offal such as sweetbreads, animelles (testicles), amourettes (spinal marrow), brains, and kidneys; seafood such as lobster, crayfish, caviar and other roes; truffles and morels amongst the mushrooms; certain condiments, including cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, saffron, vanilla, ginger, and, naturally, pepper — which induces sneezing, a physiological reaction akin to orgasm — and finally “exotics” like shark fins, ambergris (petrified whale vomit), and musk (a glandular secretion of certain animals, e.g. the musk deer and European muskrat, also present in several plants).
Belief in the potions, elixirs, and philters of medieval alchemy lingers on. In traditional Asian cultures, purported aphrodisiacs such as rare herbs, and turtle and snake blood, preferably drunk warm from a fresh kill, are current into the 21st century. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, Americans of the Great Plains — natives as well as the Europeans who took over — endorsed the sex-inducing benefits of eating Rocky Mountain Oysters.
Is there any scientific basis for the notion of aphrodisiac foods? Giacomo Casanova, legendary Venetian lothario and polymath of the 18th century, was famous for consuming 50 raw oysters every day at breakfast, claiming, in his exaggerated memoirs, that it spurred his prodigious sexual adventures. As a result the mythical power of oysters was debated for more than two centuries. Then a presentation by a group of biochemists at the 2005 American Chemical Society convention caused quite a stir. Dr. George Fisher, of Barry University, Miami, Florida, and Drs. Raul Mirza and Antimo D’Aniello, of the Laboratory of Neurobiology, Naples, Italy, revealed their findings that mussels, clams, and oysters contain two rare amino acids (D-aspartic acid or D-asp and N-methyl-D-aspartate or NMDA), which have been proved to stimulate production of testosterone in males and estrogen in females. Elevated levels of these hormones are the prime indicators of — you guessed it — increased sexual activity. Needless to say, this was among the most-discussed papers in the staid 126-year history of the ACS, not to mention a boon to peddlers of oyster-extract capsules and to the Alaskan seafood industry, which boasts by far America’s longest coastline and purest waters — ideal for year-round cultivation of those magical mollusks. (By the way, cooking the oysters pretty much negates the effect of those two key amino acids, which is why the accompanying recipe calls for them raw.)
Perhaps not entirely coincidentally, the Aztec emperor Montezuma was known to consume 50 cups (see Casanova’s 50 oysters) of a bitter cocoa drink per day as an aphrodisiac. It was called xocolatl in his native language of Nahuatl; hence the modern word “chocolate.” Aside from the caffeine-like effects of its stimulants, one of chocolate’s many presumed attributes is its ability to increase levels in the brain of a neuropeptide called phenylethylamine (PEA), considered one of the body’s most significant inherent aphrodisiacs. None of this has been proved conclusively; however, after Columbus introduced chocolate to Europe in 1502 and sweetening processes were developed, chocolate became such a highly popular luxury item and rumored sex aide that the Catholic Church initiated efforts to ban it as an instrument of the devil.
So, aside from gorging yourself on chocolate or eating huge plates of raw oysters, clams, or mussels — not necessarily within everybody’s diet or budgetary constraints — what’s the best formula for a sexy meal? You could serve that plump asparagus stalk with two new red potatoes on each side of its base and a cream sauce drizzled around the plate. It’s a bit blatant, but after all, apart from the ability to cook, a sturdy, unselfconscious ego and a hearty sense of humor are considered two of the sexiest traits in man or woman. So take the blunt tack if you feel confident. Otherwise, try the accompanying recipes, which attempt to offer a few less heavy-handed suggestions for culinary erotic stimulation. Perhaps you’ll find them fitting preludes to a discreet nudge in the direction of the bedroom.
We all have our preferences, but there seems to be a broad consensus regarding certain seafoods — shellfish and mollusks — and also chocolate. I find foods with relatively light, fresh textures and subtle, evocative flavors to be the most romantically suggestive: eggplants, almonds, parsley, artichokes, asparagus, and mild seafoods all come to mind. (Fishy-smelling seafood is not only totally unsexy but also likely not very fresh; seafood should only offer a light, briny hint of the seashore.) By all means try to include a dish with chocolate in your sexy menu for this Valentine’s Day — if not one of the accompanying recipes, then maybe one for chocolate mousse, chocolate soufflé, or flourless chocolate cake. There are plenty of good recipes on line for all of these dishes (and also for a divine flourless cake in Alfred Portale’s Gotham Bar and Grill Cookbook).
Dr. Ruth Westheimer, the esteemed psychosexual therapist and promoter of sexual literacy (her term), has written nearly 30 books, including the recent Dr. Ruth’s Sex After 50: Revving Up the Romance, Passion and Excitement. Here is her take on foods for sex: “There’s been all kinds of speculation about the scientific and psychological basis for aphrodisiacs. But really, people should use anything they believe will work for themselves. If they believe it’s chocolate or black olives, so be it. If they believe in caviar, let them eat caviar! A glass of wine? Sure, if it helps overcome any nervousness, tension, or anxiety — but of course not to get drunk. For some people, perhaps a sandwich of rye bread and butter is an aphrodisiac. In other words, it doesn’t have to be something expensive like caviar. Anything that is pleasing, that recalls good memories and brings on the right feelings can be considered an aphrodisiac.”
Whatever recipes you choose for your romantic meal, remember that atmosphere and ambiance count for a lot, and that there is a load of pleasure in the buildup. Try to serve up hints of far-flung luxuries and forbidden pleasures — exotica as erotica. Prepare exciting, stimulating, yet not overly complex dishes in appropriate portions. (Who’s up for a romp in the bedroom on a bloated stomach?) Summon the power of suggestion, but be discreet. Look to create subtle allusions and tender traps as opposed to bowling them over with intense potions or big slathered portions. Innuendo is in; orgiastic Roman feasts are out. Isabel Allende says; “Just as lists of sins excite rebellion, the constraints imposed at table may have a stimulating effect.” Put another way, gourmet savvy and table manners are sexy; raw hunger and lust are not.
As Dr. Ruth reminds us, sexy food is mostly about belief and inspiration, and not much about science (except for those oysters and that chocolate, of course). When cooking for the man or woman of your dreams, putting your love (or lust) into the preparation is your best guarantee. Be sure to devote extra time and care to the dishes for your lover. And finally, don’t forget to dim the lights, fire up a few candles, and put on a good jazz CD.
David Gibbons is a freelance editor and writer, mostly of books and articles about food. He thinks he knows a lot about one of the topics of this article and wishes he knew more about the other.
Geoffrey Zakarian is executive chef of two Manhattan restaurants, Town (at the Chambers Hotel, 15 West 56th Street) and Country (at the Carlton Hotel, 88 Madison Avenue, corner of 29th street).
