The Aphrodisiac Encyclopaedia
Page 11
Linguine ai Ricci di Mare
Sea urchins : 10
Dry linguine : 300 g
Extra virgin olive oil (mildly flavoured) : 2 tbsp
Garlic : 1 clove
Red chilli : ½ mild chilli
Lemon : ½
Parsley (finely chopped) : 1 tbsp
Salt and pepper : to taste
Sea urchin, like all seafood, is at its best when at its most fresh. Nothing beats diving for sea urchins and eating them on the rocks then and there. When buying sea urchins, look out for firm spines and a tightly clenched mouth. Avoid any that smell fishy.
Wearing a thick rubber glove, grasp the sea urchin and cut a circle around the mouth orifice. As this comes away it will bring the digestive tract with it – discard both. Scrape out the orange meat with a small teaspoon and strain the liquid from each sea urchin into a bowl.
Cook the linguine as per instructions.
In a pan heat the olive oil, add the garlic crushed into a paste and the finely chopped chilli. Cook for a minute, then add the juice of half a lemon, and the sea urchin meat and juice. Beat together and warm through.
Add the sauce to the pasta and toss with the chopped parsley. Season with sea salt and black pepper.
Eggs Oursinade
Sea urchins : 10
Sun-dried tomato : 4
Freshly squeezed lemon juice : 1 tsp
White vermouth : 1 tsp
Tabasco : a few drops
Hollandaise : 100ml
Eggs (very fresh) : 4
Samphire : 1 large handful
Butter : 1 tbsp
English muffins : 2
Salt and pepper : to taste
Prepare the sea urchins. Add half to a bowl with finely chopped sun-dried tomato, lemon juice, vermouth and Tabasco. Leave to marinate.
Prepare the hollandaise (see artichokes for recipe). Once complete, beat in the remaining sea urchin meat and keep warm.
Poach the very fresh eggs in trembling water (see asparagus for recipe).
Blanch the samphire for 60 seconds in boiling water.
Beat the butter into the marinated sea urchin mix to form a smooth paste.
Toast the muffins, cut them in half and spread with the sea urchin paste.
Place the poached eggs on the muffin halves, spoon over the urchin hollandaise and scatter the plate with the samphire.
Season with salt and freshly ground pepper.
Herbs
BASIL
The risqué Victorian adventurer Sir Richard Burton observed that basil ‘unless it is warmed by the fingers, emits no perfume’; the old rogue goes on to add, ‘much like a woman’. And it seems that since antiquity women and basil have been the best of friends. A Roman woman would dust her bosom with dried basil to ensure her lover’s lasting affection; the scent was well known to drive men wild. A theory also subscribed to by Italian prostitutes who centuries later would smear themselves with basil oil to attract punters; it remains unclear whether this was indeed to drive men wild or perhaps to mask less savoury odours.
By way of contrast, in India, holy basil or tulsi is the preserve of the devout, who regard it as the manifestation of the goddess Tulasi. Hindu legend tells of Lord Vishnu tricking Tulasi into some extramarital rumpy pumpy by masquerading as her husband. Legend is delicately unspecific regarding the exact moment Vishnu’s ruse was uncovered, but uncovered it was. Mortified by her infidelity, Tulasi promptly threw herself on to a bonfire and was burnt to a cinder. From the smoking ashes of her burnt body sprung up a profusion of basil bushes and Vishnu, unrepentant but impressed by this woman’s fidelity, declared that Tulasi should be worshipped for her faithfulness and that the herb tulsi should represent her. Thus holy basil became a symbol of love and fidelity for millions of Hindus.
It is unlikely that you would ever eat enough basil for it to have a significant aphrodisiac effect from its nutritional composition. Any bedroom impulses must therefore stem from basil’s fragrance and flavour, which come from its peculiarly high concentration of essential oils. In modern aromatherapy basil is used as a mental and emotional pick-me-up. It dispels melancholy, sharpens the senses and induces a euphoric, giddy feeling; from this description it sounds all too likely that basil does indeed put one in the mood for a little rough and tumble. A more scientific study offers additional support, showing that basil, sweet basil and holy basil all contain the compound eugenol. Without getting too technical, eugenol dilates one’s blood vessels. This increases blood flow to one’s extremities, turning the diminutive wee man into an incredible hulk. What better way to enliven these unmentionable extremities than a ‘relaxing’ cup of herbal basil tea before bedtime?
Tulsi Tea
Holy basil is a wild variant of common basil; it is available from pretty much all oriental stores and is great substituted for common basil in all cooked dishes. To make Tulsi tea take a good sprig of fresh holy basil, the zest of half an orange, a few cardamom pods and a spoonful of honey. Place all the ingredients except the honey in a pot and fill with boiling water. Leave to infuse for 5 minutes and add the honey to taste. Sweet dreams.
MINT
There are over twenty-five varieties of mint. Although they all smell and taste similarly fresh and fragrant their aphrodisiac effects can be polar opposites. History has been correspondingly confused over mint’s aphrodisiac credentials.
In the fourth century BC medical maestro Hippocrates gave mint the most dismal diagnosis, declaring that it diluted sperm, weakened erections and tired the body. Aristotle’s opinion was the exact opposite. He thought mint such an aphrodisiac that he formally advised Alexander the Great to forbid his troops from drinking mint tea on campaign lest their minds wandered to less warlike activities. As long as Hippocrates was railing against spearmint and Aristotle championing peppermint, they could both have been right.
Modern medical research has revealed spearmint to be quite the party pooper when it comes to adult activities. Spearmint tea is effective as a treatment for hirsutism in women. Although bearded ladies are not my particular cup of tea, neither is the chemical action that banishes the bristles. Spearmint has anti-androgenic properties and reduces the level of free testosterone in the body. Bio-available testosterone sounds the charge for carnal conquest so this state of affairs is far from ideal. Bearded bon viveurs hell bent on bed bouncing should give it a wide berth.
Peppermint smells much like spearmint but has very different chemical components. Its essential oil is up to 70 per cent menthol, compared with the paltry ½ per cent in spearmint oil. This difference makes all the difference. Menthol behaves like capsaicin in chilli, triggering the body’s heat sensors. Whereas chilli fools the body into thinking it is hot, peppermint produces a cooling sensation. The body responds to this temperature threat by dilating blood vessels and raising the heart rate. This elevated state of metabolism mirrors that of arousal, allowing seamless transition from numbing minty chill to hot tingling passion.
It is a crying shame that the mint most commonly used in cooking is spearmint. The sprig with your new potatoes, scenting peas and slathering roast lamb may be delicious but is decidedly unhelpful in propagating romance. Say a sad sayonara to Mojitos and mint juleps and a questionable hello to crème de menthe. Peppermint is most widely used in confectionary and ice cream. The gastronome can at least give a small cheer for after-dinner mint fondants and mint choc chip.
Peppermint Fondants
Egg : 1
Icing sugar : 400 g + extra for dusting
Lemon juice : a squeeze
Peppermint extract : 1 tsp
Bitter dark chocolate
(70% cocoa solids) : 200 g
Separate the egg white from the yolk and whisk it in a clean bowl until it forms soft peaks.
Gradually whisk sifted icing sugar into the egg white and finally whisk in the lemon juice and peppermint extract. The mix should be a thick paste. Taste the fondant mix and if you want a stronger mint kick add a little more peppermi
nt.
Dust a board with icing sugar and roll out the fondant mix to a thickness of under ½ cm. Place the rolled fondant on a sheet of non-stick parchment paper and allow to air dry for a few hours.
Once firm, use a sharp knife to cut out neat 4 cm squares. Put the fondants in the freezer for 20 minutes to firm them up completely, ready to be dipped in chocolate.
Break the chocolate into pieces and melt in a pan set over simmering water. Once melted, one by one immerse the fondants in the chocolate. Delicately fish them out with two forks and place on non-stick parchment paper to set.
ROCKET
For those fond of certainties rocket is a little confusing. It hovers mysteriously between herb and salad, and I am never quite sure whether it prefers the names arugula or roquette to rocket. If what’s-its-name is a salad it is an unusual one. According to legend, lettuce stifles the libido whereas rocket does the exact opposite.
In classical antiquity, rocket was sacred to the god Priapus. The son of beautiful Aphrodite and dissolute Dionysus, Priapus has the most erotic pedigree and is best known for his large, ever-ready erection. Rocket was planted at the rural shrines dedicated to Priapus. It was widely believed that a quick graze on its peppery leaves would have male members standing at full attention, swollen with devout desire. In Dioscorides’s authoritative Pharmacopeia of herbal remedies, raw rocket and its seeds are formally fingered as powerful aphrodisiacs. Rocket’s reputation survived the sack of Rome, thriving in subsequent Spanish Visigoth culture. The Archbishop of Seville, St Isidore, is often referred to as the last scholar of the ancient world. His saintly seventh-century mind was not above observing the rocket effect. In his Etymologiae (the first Christian encyclopaedia) Isidore writes that ‘rocket is, so to speak, inflammatory, since it has burning properties and, if consumed frequently in the diet arouses the sexual appetite’.
A few hundred years later, the Church took a much dimmer view of such properties. They banned rocket from monastic diets and their general disapproval led to rocket largely disappearing from the cuisines of Europe. Italy was the notable exception. The recent popularity of rustic Italian food has seen rocket restored to global gastronomic favour.
Rocket’s hot, peppery taste is the fuel for its aphrodisiac reputation. Just as chilli, pepper, mustard, horseradish and peppermint trip our heat-sensitive defence system, so does rocket. The distinctive pungent taste of raw rocket sensitises the mouth, raises the metabolism and dilates blood vessels. This spirited state of affairs puts one in a decidedly frisky mood; a sniff of stimulation and you will be rampant as a randy rabbit. The glucosinolates responsible for rocket’s fiery frisson are defused by cooking. Restrict culinary adventure to the raw experience. Tossed with olive oil and sprinkled with shavings of Parmesan, it makes a salad sophisticated enough for any occasion. Rocket’s punchy flavour stands up well to the boldness of beef, its heat a delightful and necessary counterpoint to the raw reality of beef carpaccio. The same idea works to more dramatic effect with beef tataki rolls filled with rocket and curls of buttery avocado – if you are feeling flash you can substitute the avocado with curls of chilled foie gras to excellent effect and no doubt ecstatic approval all round.
Rocket, Avocado and Beef Tataki Rolls
Beef fillet (tail piece) : 250 g
Vegetable oil : 1 tbsp
Sesame oil : 1 tsp
Balsamic vinegar : 1 tbsp
Honey : 1 tsp
Tabasco : a few drops
Rocket : 50 g
Avocado : 1
Chives : 4
Toasted sesame seeds : 1 tbsp
Brush the beef with the vegetable oil. Heat a heavy-based non-stick frying pan and when it is very hot, sear the meat on all sides. Wrap the seared meat in cling film and refrigerate for a few hours.
Mix the sesame oil with the balsamic vinegar, honey and Tabasco to create a glaze. Cut the chives into 8 cm lengths.
Slice the beef very thinly and brush one side of each slice with the sesame balsamic glaze. Place a few leaves of rocket, a curl of avocado and two pieces of chive down the centre of each slice and wrap up to form a loose roll.
Place each roll on a large rocket leaf and sprinkle each one with a few toasted sesame seeds.
ROSE
A bon viveur embraces all things floral. Unimaginative yet effective, the well-chosen posy delights all but the most disagreeable. When it comes to charming the ladies, roses are the most attentive, witty and debonair of suitors. Men are equally at sea; the scent of rose bewitches and bamboozles. It is the essence of unbridled femininity, mysterious and utterly compelling. The perfume wafts into the kitchen. Rose is used to scent and flavour food, adding a seductive edge of languorous sensuality.
The rose has been a symbol of love since antiquity. In ancient Egypt it was sacred to Isis, the goddess of motherhood, magic and fertility. Greek legend attributes the rose’s romantic origins to a veritable dream team of divinity. Chloris, the goddess of flowers, found a favourite nymph dead in a woodland clearing. Grieving, she decided to turn her into the most beautiful flower the world had ever seen. She enlisted Aphrodite to give the rose beauty; Dionysus added nectar and beguiling scent and the three Graces gave charm, brightness and joy. Zephyr, the gentle west wind, chased away the clouds and Apollo, the sun god, shone and made the rose bloom. Bees attracted to the rose’s heady perfume proceeded to sting a passing Eros. The dashing deity of desire, somewhat miffed, drew his bow and let fly with a hail of arrows. He missed his target and the arrows struck the rose bush, leaving sharp thorns along its stem.
The ancients took the erotic origins to heart. In Egypt, ever eager for aphrodisiac advantage, Cleopatra carpeted her pleasure palace with rose petals. When she seduced Mark Antony it is said they lay an inch thick over the floor of her bedchamber. The Emperor Nero, dissolutus maximus of ancient Rome, took rose fancying to extreme levels. At home to decadence and debauchery, he lounged on pillows filled with rose petals, drank rose-flavoured wine, ate rose pudding for afters and cavorted naked in rose-perfumed pools. The Arab world was equally impressed. Clay tablets from the ancient temple of Ur, in modern-day Iraq, document Baghdad’s infatuation with roses. The sultan’s clearly extensive harem got through a mighty 30,000 jars of rose water a year. In 1718, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, wife to the British ambassador in Istanbul, wrote of the secret rose language of the harem. Lovers were not allowed to express their love openly in the harems of the Ottoman Empire. Instead they exchanged roses. A furled red rose signalled budding desire, an open red rose was more forward, stating that one was full of love and lust. An open white rose asked, ‘Will you love me?’ whilst an open yellow rose pleaded, ‘Do you still love me?’
It was in Ottoman Istanbul that the rose found its most celebrated culinary use. The sultan Abdul Hamid I commissioned his master sweet-maker to devise a confection to wow the jaded palates of his wives and mistresses. In 1776 Hadji Bekir created rahat lokum, a candy of set rose syrup dusted in sugar. The harem was agog. In the eighteenth century it was exported to England, renamed with all the exoticism of the East as Turkish delight.
The tradition, scent and physical beauty of the rose are all achingly romantic. The psychological associations and heady sensual aroma are more than enough to suffuse a dish with aphrodisiac appeal. It is pleasing, however, to find scientific support. Studies at the Smell and Taste Treatment and Research Foundation in Chicago have recently found that the scent of roses increases olfactory-evoked nostalgia. Happy memories and loving occasions spring back to life – the warm fuzzy glow to start an amorous fire.
Rose is a sweet, heady fragrance. In gastronomy it only really works in desserts and sweetened drinks. A sticky sponge pudding scented with rose syrup and drenched in vanilla custard would surely invoke the spirit of Nero’s decadent feasts. The sweet-toothed Iranians are passionate about rose-water ice cream. This combination works particularly well. The coolness counteracts and sharpens the potentially cloying sweetness of the rose. In North Africa, rose i
s often used in the savoury spice mix ras el hanout. Here the sweetness of rose is balanced by the kick of chilli and pepper. In Turkish delight the addition of lemon juice does the same job, tempering the rose with sharp acidity. A delicately set cube of Turkish delight melts on the tongue with intoxicating effect. Eyes glaze and mouths slip open. Unleash said effect with this surprisingly simple recipe.
Rose and Pomegranate Turkish Delight
Water : 250 ml
Cornflour : 35 g + 1 tsp
Cream of tartar : ½ tsp
Caster sugar : 200 g
Freshly squeezed lemon juice : 1 tbsp
Freshly squeezed pomegranate juice : 1 tbsp
Rose water : 2 tbsp
Icing sugar : 3 tbsp
In a small pan mix 150 ml of water with the cornflour and cream of tartar. Whisk together, then heat until the mixture has thickened.
In another pan heat the caster sugar with remaining 100 ml of water, the lemon juice and pomegranate juice. You need pure pomegranate juice for this recipe, so it is best to squeeze a fresh fruit. Heat to 115°C (soft ball stage on a sugar thermometer).
Remove from the heat and steadily add the cornflour mixture to the sugar syrup, whisking furiously to combine. Return to the heat and continue to cook until the mix reaches 120°C.
Remove from the heat and allow to cool slightly. Add the rose water and stir to combine – as all rose water has different strengths it is best to do this a teaspoon at a time, tasting as you go.