Water : 1 litre
Tomato puree : 2 tbsp
Crème fraîche : 100 ml
Cayenne pepper : to taste
Salt and pepper : to taste
Remove the tomalley from the lobster carcass, then in a bowl pound the shells with the end of a rolling pin until well crushed.
Melt the butter in a wide shallow pan then add the lobster shell. Fry for 30 seconds, then add the brandy and flambé.
Add the rice together with the vegetables, herbs and spices reserved from the lobster in a bag recipe. Stir to combine, then pour over the water and mix in the tomato puree. Bring to the boil, then simmer for 35 minutes.
Strain the bisque through a fine sieve, pressing as much vegetable paste through the sieve as possible. Return to the pan and boil vigorously to reduce the bisque to about 500 ml of liquid.
Whisk in the reserved lobster tomalley and crème fraîche. Season with cayenne pepper, salt and pepper as required.
MUSSELS
Mussels are the poor man’s oyster. Much beloved by our Belgian brethren, these briny little bivalves lack celebrity but offer the same aphrodisiac array of nutrients as their better-known big brother. The same bang for considerably less buck – cheap-date, bon viveurs take note. The inexpensive mussel holds its head up high, fine enough to bring a blush to the most high-falutin’ dining companion. Those that shudder at the raw kiss of a freshly shucked oyster will also appreciate the down-to-earth, conventional charms of the cooked mussel. Share a steaming cauldron of mussels with a loved one and the sensual pleasure of slurping tender morsels from hard shells will budge the most barnacled of libidos.
Mussels grow in clusters at the low tide line of rocky shores. Although they have been a food source for thousands of years, the history of mussel cultivation begins in thirteenth-century France. In 1290 a shipwrecked Irishman, Patrick Walton, was washed up on the French coast near La Rochelle. His enquiring Celtic mind noticed that the posts set up in the shallows to catch seabirds were covered with mussels. He planted posts close together, slung branches (bousches) between them and watched with satisfaction as his invention yielded bumper crops of mussels. The bouchot method of mussel cultivation carries on to this day.
As with oysters (and cockles and clams), mussels derive their aphrodisiac goodness from lusty marine minerals and two rather special amino acids. In the run-up to spawning, aspartic acid and methyl-aspartate pump mussels full of fertility. Following the throw-enough-mud-and-some-of-it-will-stick philosophy, mussels procreate by belching out superhuman quantities of sperm and eggs. In the vast sexual soup of speed-dating they hope at least some relationships will form before the whole lot gets washed out to sea. Studying baskets of fresh bivalves from the fish markets of Naples, scientists from Barry University in Miami and the Naples Institute of Neurobiology identified these two rare amino acids. They injected rats with them and observed supercharged rodent libido and raised levels of both testosterone and progesterone. The mineral X-factors are zinc, folic acid and selenium. They all are equally necessary to tip-top titillation and in-depth satisfaction (see oysters, asparagus and lobster for more detail).
When it comes to rustling up a cut-price aphrodisiac dinner, moules marinières is a hard dish to beat. Easy, effective and untaxing on the wallet, it is the definition of a one-pot wonder. Mussels, parsley, white wine and cream, twenty minutes of cooking and you are ready to roll. In Britain, the white wine is traditionally substituted with cider to equally delicious effect. My version dispenses with both, balancing the mussels’ sweet salty flavour with a mild, creamy curry sauce flavoured with saffron, ginger, curry leaf and coriander. Serve in a communal bowl with crusty bread to soak up the sauce and a young Muscadet to wash it down.
Saffron and Coconut Moules Marinières
Fresh coriander : 1 small bunch
Garlic : 2 cloves
Ginger root : 2 cm length
Carrot : 1 small carrot
Onion : 1 small onion
Mussels : 1 kg
Mustard seeds : a large pinch
Coriander seeds : a large pinch
Cumin seeds : a large pinch
Butter : 50 g
Curry leaf : a large pinch of dried leaves or 3 fresh leaves
Saffron : 8 strands
Coconut milk : 150 ml
Double cream : 100 ml
Roughly chop the coriander stalks and root, crush the garlic, and finely slice the ginger, carrot and onion. Wash the mussels under cold running water, pulling the beards off and discarding any that remain open.
Heat the spice seeds in a dry pan, then grind to powder in a pestle and mortar.
Melt the butter in a large pan, then sauté the vegetables with the ground spices, curry leaf and coriander stalk.
Hydrate the saffron in 50 ml of boiling water and leave to infuse for a few minutes.
Once the onion is soft add the coconut milk and saffron water, then bring to the boil. Put the mussels in the pan, cover and steam for 5 minutes.
Remove the mussels from the pan and discard any unopened specimens.
Strain the sauce through a fine sieve, return to the pan, mix in the cream and the reserved coriander leaf. Return the mussels to the pan and toss in the sauce.
Serve immediately.
OYSTERS
Oysters are aphrodisiac superstars. Everyone and their dog knows there is something special about these briny sex-bombs. I have slurped my way through more than my fair share, and am loudly confident that the fire fuelling this smoky reputation is red hot.
In many ways oysters are unlikely aphrodisiacs. They belong to the same biological family as slugs, feed off plankton and live in the brackish shallows of somewhat desolate estuaries. Unlike slugs, oysters are awe-inspiringly fertile. They may only come once a year but when they do it is an atomic sexual explosion. A single oyster can produce over a million eggs and enough sperm to turn the sea milky white. They are so supercharged they can even fertilise themselves!
Man has availed himself of this coastal superfood since prehistoric times. Huge piles of discarded shells show that Cro-Magnon man was quite the bon viveur. The Romans were the first to truly wallow in the oyster’s erotic delights. Ladies would dip oysters in honey as an incendiary hors d’oeuvre to lustful nights of imperial decadence. Emperor Vitellus was a consummate connoisseur, shipping snow-covered baskets of the finest British oysters to feed his refined appetite. Fast forward to the Enlightenment and we find oysters’ aphrodisiac allure undiminished. Legendary Venetian lothario Casanova would fuel himself for a busy day at the orifice with the original breakfast of champions, five dozen of our friendly bivalves.
The oyster’s scandalous reputation has both psychological and nutritional foundation. Eating a raw oyster enrages the senses with steamy stimuli. The smell, taste and texture allude to carnal matters – oceanic, wet, squelchy, soft and silky smooth. Put simply, if anything is sex on a plate, oysters are it. Lean, mean and full of beans, they harbour a sizzling low-fat cocktail of zinc, iodine and amino acids. A nutritional mix that specifically nourishes the two main drivers of desire: rapacious manly testosterone and orgasm-craving dopamine.
As oysters limber up for the heroics of the mating season, like mussels they flood with two rare amino acids, aspartic and methyl-aspartate. In humans, these acids perform much the same job, raising testosterone levels and stiffening sexual resolve. The massive zinc levels in oysters amplify this effect, arresting testosterone’s natural synthesis into wimpy, pyjama-clad oestrogen. The dopamine effect is equally strong, boosted by oysters’ richness in another amino acid called tyrosine. This metabolises directly into dopamine. High dopamine levels trigger an irresistible impulse and reward circuit in the primal brain, goading otherwise civilised citizens to rut in cupboards like beasts.
Oysters offer more than just sexual inspiration and enjoyment. In their extraordinary zinc content they provide the ejaculatory arsenal to arm the most protracted bedroom battle. When a man (or indeed a woman) huffs
and puffs and gasps then gushes, that gush will contain 1–3 mg of zinc. If you want to gush again any time soon, either ensure you have stockpiled enough zinc to draw on reserves or reload at your nearest oyster bar.
Oysters are at their aphrodisiac best in the spring run-up to the spawning season. To bask in their gourmet and nutritional goodness, you cannot be squeamish. Oysters must be eaten raw and they must be alive. They have no central nervous system so this is not as heartless as it may initially seem. Aliveness is imperative. The deceased oyster decays at a rapid rate, and a night of the runs is rarely romantic. Oysters should be bought as fresh as possible and eaten immediately. Store on ice in the fridge with a wet tea towel covering your haul. Test each oyster before you open it. The shell should be tightly closed and heavy with water. Some dead oysters may also be closed but can be identified by the distinctive hollow clacking sound they make when tapped.
The classic way to serve oysters is freshly shucked on the half-shell, chilled on a bed of ice and accompanied by bread and butter. The complex ozone, mineral taste and creamy, yielding flesh is usually tempered by a condiment of some sort. The most commonly served are lemon juice, black pepper, Tabasco and shallot vinegar. I have used elements of them all in the creation and refinement of my own inestimable Sauce Bon Viveur. When I need a break from blowing my own trumpet, I look east for inspiration and wolf down a delightful dozen with a zingy watermelon and daikon salsa.
SHUCKING OYSTERS
Opening an oyster is not the easiest of tasks. Place the oyster curved side down on a bunched-up dishcloth. Holding the oyster securely, firmly wiggle the blade of a stout oyster knife into the hinge joining the two halves of the shell. Once the point is securely lodged, twist the blade until there is a slight pop as the top shell is prised open. Slide the knife across the top shell to cut the adductor muscle. The lid can now be removed and the oyster loosened from the bottom half of its shell ready to be slipped effortlessly between one’s salivating lips. To avoid getting any unexpected titbits of shell, you can strain the juice from the oysters into a bowl. Remove the oysters from the shell and wash both under cold running water. Replace the oysters in the shells and spoon a little reserved juice over each one.
Sauce Bon Viveur
Spring onion : 2
Mild red chilli : 1
Butter : 15 g
White wine vinegar (good quality) : 50 ml
Dry white wine : 50 ml
Honey : 1 tsp
Freshly squeezed lemon juice : 1 tbsp
Tomato puree : 1 tbsp
Wash two large spring onions, de-seed the red chilli and slice both as finely as possible.
In a small saucepan heat the butter until it melts and starts to foam.
Add the spring onion and chilli to the foaming butter and fry gently for 3 minutes.
Add all the remaining ingredients, remove from the heat and whisk together.
(NB Make sure you use a good-quality white wine vinegar in this recipe.)
Set the sauce aside to cool thoroughly to allow the flavours to develop, then pass through a fine sieve to leave a silky-smooth sauce.
Chill and serve about half a teaspoonful with each freshly shucked oyster.
Watermelon and Daikon Salsa
Carrot : 1 tbsp diced carrot
Cucumber : 1 tbsp diced cucumber (see below)
Watermelon : 1 tbsp diced watermelon
Daikon : 1 tbsp diced daikon (see below)
Ginger root : 1 tsp finely chopped
Fresh coriander : 1 tsp finely chopped
Mirin : 75 ml
Rice vinegar : 50 ml
Honey : to taste (½ tsp)
Like many things Japanese, this recipe is pretty as a picture but calls for slightly obsessive precision. The vegetables need to be very finely and very neatly diced.
Peel and de-seed the cucumber before dicing, and use only a firm piece of watermelon.
Daikon is a large parsnip-shaped Japanese radish also known as mooli. This needs to be peeled and diced as before. If you can’t lay your hands on daikon, a European pink radish will suffice.
The ginger and leaf coriander need to be chopped as finely as possible.
All that remains is to mix the ingredients together and sweeten to taste with honey.
Chill and serve as before, about half a teaspoonful per oyster.
PUFFERFISH
After the golden poison frog, the pufferfish is the most toxic creature on earth. Each fish contains enough poison to kill thirty men and there is no known antidote. Undeterred by these dubious accolades, the Japanese have prized pufferfish or fugu as an aphrodisiac delicacy for thousands of years. It is clear that the kamikaze spirit is very much alive and well.
The poison in pufferfish is a substance called tetrodotoxin, roughly ten times more venomous than cyanide. Tetrodotoxin poisoning results in numbness followed by paralysis. As the poison cannot cross the blood–brain barrier the stricken gourmet will savour eventual suffocation fully conscious. Dicing with death lies at the heart of pufferfish’s aphrodisiac reputation. In small doses tetrodotoxin causes a pleasurable light-headedness, numb lips and a delightful tingling to fingers, toes and certain other manly extremities. Said manly extremities are also strengthened with the righteous rigidity of partial paralysis.
The trick with preparing pufferfish is to remove the poisonous organs whilst leaving just enough tetrodotoxin to foster some risky romance. This is no task for the amateur. The poison is distributed across the fish’s skin, intestines, eyes, kidneys, ovaries and, above all, in its liver. Fugu’s preparation is strictly controlled. Sushi masters must successfully complete three years of special training before they can prepare fugu for the public. People still die from fugu poisoning but most fatalities are the result of enthusiastic amateurs coming a cropper when indulging in culinary DIY.
The element of danger no doubt adds to the pufferfish’s aphrodisiac allure. The boost of adrenaline will stoke the pit of desire as efficiently as the hopefully mild poisoning. Typically fugu is served as sashimi, cut into wafer-thin translucent slices that are artfully arranged as chrysanthemum flowers. The taste is extremely mild with a hint of chicken. Taste, however, is almost incidental to the experience. Dining on pufferfish is a spectacle. The chef will ceremoniously dissect a living pufferfish, pulsing in pieces, in front of your eyes. The flesh is used for sashimi whilst its fishy balls – the most aphrodisiac part of the whole creature – are served in hot sake. It is illegal to serve the toxic liver. Nevertheless, if pressed, a chef will often oblige with an under-the-counter sliver of gourmet death wish. The tingling is palpable, distinctly dangerous and overwhelmingly seductive.
Pufferfish is the only food denied to the Japanese Emperor and his family. Unless you are in a licensed restaurant I suggest you follow his imperial lead. If you are in the right surroundings, roll the dice and relish in the aphrodisiac tingle of knowing that just maybe this might be your last meal. There is no better way to feel triumphantly alive.
SEA URCHIN
The spiny sea hedgehog is a gourmet gift to intrepid lovers, and one of my absolute favourites. The rich iodine intensity of sea urchin roe is a unique flavour that invigorates immediately. More than any other nation, the Japanese share my enthusiasm. In the Land of the Rising Sun sea urchins, or uni, have been treasured as an aphrodisiac for thousands of years. Sadly, the rocky shores that once teemed with a carpet of sea urchins are now distinctly threadbare. The price has rocketed to around £280 per kilogram and the world is being scoured to satisfy this oriental obsession.
As with many aphrodisiacs, the amber roe that is the edible part of the sea urchin turns out to be its sex organs. The five tongues of flesh lining the shell produce the millions of eggs and sperm required for successful aquatic reproduction. Each spawning season, like marine tumbleweed blowing across the sea floor, the sea urchins gather. Releasing a potent sex pheromone, the colony is attracted ever closer together. The pheromone intensity increases until finally it is too
much to bear, the colony takes a collective breath and then as one explodes in spectacular simultaneous orgasm and ovulation. The sea becomes a sexual soup of sea urchin effluent. This prodigious fertility is reason enough to finger the sea urchin as an agent provocateur. Combine this saltiness with unusually impressive nutritional statistics and you have a bona fide aphrodisiac all-star.
Sea urchin contains the usual shellfish smorgasbord of libido-enhancing nutrients. Zinc, phosphorus, iodine and potassium are all present and correct in impressive abundance. In addition to these sex-hormone-supporting minerals, sea urchin contains a rare cannabinoid neurotransmitter called anandamide. As the name suggests, it acts on the brain like cannabis, bringing on intense feelings of pleasure. The scientists who discovered anandamide, quite possibly a little high, named it after the Sanskrit word for bliss, ananda. In addition to simply making you feel what a Jamaican might call irie, anandamide is released in women at ovulation. This release corresponds to peaks in libido-driving oestrogen and testosterone levels. It is evolution’s way of ensuring eggs get fertilised. There is every reason to conclude that for women at least, anandamide is a very direct aphrodisiac. Sea urchin is the only identified food source of anandamide, so for females fulminating with friskiness, simply season with sea hedgehog – truly a woman’s best friend. The results from one of my more pleasurable sessions of scientific self-experimentation show that sea urchins are also pretty friendly to men.
In Japan, to best harness its aphrodisiac effect, sea urchin is eaten raw as sashimi or sushi, seasoned with the standard wasabi and soy sauce. Italy is another centre of urchin fancying. In Sardinia, where the rocky coast and crystal waters pulse with spiny life, sea urchin is the principal ingredient in the classic pasta dish linguine ai ricci di mare. Raw sea urchin is tossed through linguine flavoured with lemon, chilli, garlic, parsley and olive oil. If this seems like too much trouble, simply spread on toast the way they do in the Shetland Islands of Scotland. If you wish to go gourmand, whisk some raw sea urchin into a hollandaise to set off a superlative seafood brunch of poached eggs and samphire.
The Aphrodisiac Encyclopaedia Page 10