Anais Nin and Sexual Awakenings

Aphrodite’s body, born of foam, and risen from a scallop shell, speaks in echoes of sea-salted flesh, sensuality, fertility, desire. She is the namesake of aphrodisiacs, those foods professing to be of sexually stimulant quality.

Bridging the most basic of instincts - food and fornication - aphrodisiacs have long played an important part in the continuation of our species. And thanks to the miracle that is modern agriculture and refrigeration, ambergris aside, these remedies are readily available yearround.

But do these foods stand up to their potential? Have we diluted their potency with GMOs and factory farming? Were the Ancient Greeks really onto something, or were they simply horned up from poppy juice and legalised sex work?

A requisite Adonis appointed as my lab partner, I committed an afternoon and an evening to investigate these pressing concerns. To intuitively eat my way through the aphrodisiac almanac. For science, of course.

OYSTERS An eyebrow-raisingly suggestive offering on any menu, there is a covenant formed in the ritual of ordering oysters. A pact unspoken but known by all.

Oh-so-casually, it is thrown in as an apparent afterthought - “Oh, and a dozen oysters as well. Yep, the natural ones, thanks.” You pretend not to nervously sweat, and the waiter pretends not to knowingly glance at your companion. Everyone else in earshot, or joining you at the table, smiles wanly and pretends they aren’t being assaulted by depraved intrusive thoughts.

Faced with open pools of slippery seawater, even the physical act strikes a nerve. Tipping your head back, pushing past a choking spasm, maintaining coy composure. An oyster requires you to take it whole, to devour an entire life in one greedy swallow. For optimal freshness, it is still alive when you suck it from the shell. It’s the obvious choice, but obvious for a reason. An oyster is voyeuristic.

FIGS More than flavour, there are aesthetic, textural elements to the fig. It is more about the mythology, the build-up, than the finish. Downy and supple, the skin gives way to insides like burst capillaries, rosy and blooming.

Some say that Eve’s forbidden fruit was actually a fig. Does that alone not tempt you - to taste that which destroyed the innocence of man?

Which is to say: it tastes okay. Kind of a combination of honey and dirt.