You can get a large audience together for a striptease act—that is, to watch a girl undress on the stage. Now suppose you come to a country where you could fill a theatre by simply bringing a covered plate on to the stage and then slowly lifting the cover so as to let every one see, just before the lights went out, that it contained a mutton chop or a bit of bacon, would you not think that in that country something had gone wrong with the appetite for food? And would not anyone who had grown up in a different world think there was something equally queer about the state of the sex instinct among us?
One critic said that if he found a country in which such strip-tease acts with food were popular, he would conclude that the people of that country were starving. He meant, of course, to imply that such things as the strip-tease act resulted not from sexual corruption but from sexual starvation.
: I'll tell you what you did, Caligula. You've combined food and sex together into one sick, uncontrollable urge! George
: You gonna finish those fries? Jerry
: Please tell me that's all you're gonna do with them.
"My mind is muddled with excess, having just lived on copious amounts of champagne and cheese, meats stewed in lusciously decadent sauce, chocolate soufflés and salted caramels, and more champagne to wash it all down."
Soft, sultry commercial voiceover (Dervla Kirwan): "Gourmet salad with caramelised pears and creamy stilton... cookswell pork pie, in rich crust pastry... extra-sweet, hand-picked fresh cherries... This is not just food..."
: (leaping up and undoing his belt) "You're damn right it's not, it's food that's about to be fucked silly."
In my own first story I described at length what I thought a very fine high tea given by a hospitable faun to the little girl who was my heroine. A man, who has children of his own, said, "Ah, I see how you got to that. If you want to please grown-up readers give them sex, so you thought to yourself, 'That won't do for children, what shall I give them instead? I know! The little blighters like eating.'" In reality, however, I myself like eating and drinking. I put in what I would have liked to read as a child and what I still like reading now in my fifties.
Sexy Female Voiceover: We start with pure milk chocolate...
Homer: mmmm, chocolate...
Sexy Female Voiceover:...add a layer of farm fresh honey...
Homer: ohhhh, sweet....
Sexy Female Voiceover:...then we sprinkle on four kinds of sugar...
Sexy Female Voiceover:
....and dip it in rich, creamery butter.
She grabbed and groped around, reveling in in the warm, sticky feeling of the blood coating her arm and her hands, filling her nose with glorious salty sweetness, as she worked to locate the most desirable part of-
With a twist and a yell of primal joy, she pulled out her own prize - a small, dark red chunk of muscle from within the snake, coated with fresh, warm blood. Sweet, tender underbelly meat. Her absolute favorite.
I do not recall all the good things we ate, cheeses and ptarmigan, fat and lazy and only just turning out of its white winter plumage, new spring fish, heavy with salty roe, venison and lamb, cooked with early apples, even a haunch of ham, thinly-sliced rich, coated in crushed white peppercorns, up from the curing cellars just for us. There were stews also, and pies filled with hearty vegetables, gravy of goose drippings and white wine, a mound of mashed turnips swimming in butter, fennel, blanched whole and beautiful in its delicate aniseed flavour, crisp to the bite. I ate as much as I could, not more than Sanguieur, but at least I had room for the glorious mint and strawberry tart that followed everything, with rich, sweet plum wine for the adults.