The aphrodisiac food debate raised its head again in the papers recently. It doesn’t come up very often, possibly owing to a shortage of aphrodisiac, but the report talked about the same old foods, oysters, chocolate, what you should serve for a ‘romantic dinner’ etc.
Thing is, when it comes to pulling, you should really discount food. All you need is a very cold bottle of champagne and a hot obliging bloke. Oh and the right music. Not ‘Je t’aime’ but Elgar and Vaughan Williams.
I wouldn’t entirely rule out a fish and chip supper afterwards, but the whole process of cooking for someone as a kind of foreplay is intrinsically flawed.
There are far too many opportunities for romance failure. Realistically, if the cooking is *that* good, you are going to have seconds of the main course and then complete the pigging out with a large chunk of the toffee pear cheesecake which will make it impossible for you to suck your tum in and attempt to look alluring.
Also, if you have a very good dinner there is a high chance of gusty southerlies which, while occasionally hilarious between people who know each other well – probably rather too well – are for some reason never recommended in the “How to Hook a Dishy Bloke” books.
So on the whole as far as food as foreplay is concerned, you might as well make the spread so bad that both parties can either cut to the chase or regretfully back away with some concocted excuse about irritable bowel playing up. Any talk including the words “irritable” and “bowel” in the same sentence is an instant passion killer anyway.
So while I don’t hold with any legal additive but champagne making you feel sexy, I do believe certain foods make you happy or at least provide temporary emotional satiation.
Colleagues at work yesterday were wistfully remembering the best of school dinners – chocolate crunch and pink custard; spotty dick and custard and lemon curd shortcake. Then another colleage rushed in during a break and starting riffling frantically through the biscuit and cake tins demanding “Chocolate! Is there any chocolate?”
Fortunately we do keep a chocolate stash for dire emotional emergencies. It usually works.
And if some food makes you happy – doesn’t it follow that other foods make you depressed?
I was depressed by a sausage last weekend in a b&b dining room in Weymouth.
It came accompanied by a single rasher of cooked bacon with little white spots on it, which I assumed to be some kind of additive deposit.
The sausage had a skin that was too small and too tight, leaving an exposed rounded end of pinky-beige sausagemeat that looked like the result of a tentative circumcision
It’s depressing to be presented with that sort of thing first thing in the morning. Also, it makes you wonder if the person cooking the food has ever had a decent breakfast in their life.
Bad food is depressing generally. Long-life orange juice with a similar Ph to battery acid was also served, which was about as far removed from the dripping sweet juices of a fresh orange squeezed by a naked hand as you could possibly get. Tepid tea and packeted breakfast cereals completed the repast.
“Will you be wanting a sausage tomorrow?” the owner asked me reproachfully, removing my plate and the rejected sausage.
I didn’t think so, on account of it being obviously the cheapest, nastiest sort of sausage in christendom, consisting of sawdust, cereals and husk sweepings mixed together with goo and squirted into its soon-to-be-inadequate skin. I didn’t say the last bit out loud, obviously, not wanting to spoil everyone else’s breakfast.
Now, I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me while I go and tuck into a pile of golden glistening yellow scrambled egg and hot steaming butter-fried field mushrooms. It’s so nice to be home.