CUISINE PHALLIQUE ET VAGINALE
Seamus Muldoon, Himself
Copyright © 1997-2010
All Rights Reserved
Gastronomy is art. It is the art of many senses. As graphic, structural
and musical art appeals to our sensory urges as well as our intellectual
beings, so does the presentation of food. Actually, our mouths are the
last to appreciate what we eat (forgetting for now our nether regions).
Our eyes and olfactory senses precede our oral satiety. They are the
prelude to the ultimate oral poetry of good food.
I may one day – but not
yet – cease thinking about and enjoying sexual intimacy and all things
associated with it. Until then, eroticism will continue to be an aspect
of what I serve and how I serve it. While I am heterosexual, this
approach applies with equal relevance to homosexual gastronomy. But it
is beyond mere lewd food.
Dining is so often the
overture to sexual intimacy that it is appropriate that sensuality begin
with the first note of an evening’s music; the first sip of the first
wine; the first aroma that wafts from stove or oven; and the first sight
of each dish.
Sensuality is the
accommodation of one’s inhibitions to the sharing of physicality. It is
the process by which one begins to feel secure, comfortable and
unthreatened, and to become sufficiently relaxed to begin to contemplate
intimacy as something to be sought rather than resisted or simply
surrendered. Surrender is for bad movies. Pheromones are secreted and
sensed by an organ in one’s nose that is directly connected to the
limbic region of the brain, the seat of emotion and passion. Each gender
is programmed to sense pheromones and to react to them. One never needs
to “come on” to anyone. The food, the music, the aromas, consideration,
generosity, kindness all speak/sing to this music, Mutuality of desire
is the summum bonum of everything gastronomic.
By way of contrary
illustration, I recently dined in a very good local seafood restaurant
at which the chef was more interested in expressing the functionality of
descriptiveness, to the point of missing a great opportunity at
effective marketing. He offered a dish that he dubbed Crispy Snapper.
How bloody awful! Who would ever think of putting his mouth on a snapper
that had such a texture? Snapper is supposed to be warm and wet and
somewhat redolent of tumescence, with or without hair. Crispy Snapper
sounds like a snapper that needs medical attention. I intend to visit
with the chef on my next encounter and explain to him that practitioners
of oral intimacy are not enthused by the suggestion of crispiness.
Someone in my group
ordered the grilled cote de porc, which came with a mustard cherry
sauce, painted on the plate with an impression in its middle running
down the imprint of the sauce. It was red and luscious looking, and that
streak of impression running down its middle made the whole thing look
like a slightly opening vagina. As it was placed on the table I
exclaimed, “Ah. Sauce vaginale!” The waiter cracked up and had to leave
the scene immediately to regain his composure. He reported it to the
chef who did not look amused. Hmmmm. Maybe I shouldn’t discuss with him
my notion about the Crispy Snapper.
Halve a chicken. Remove all the
bones except the leg bone. Stuff the now open chicken demi carcass with
your favorite savory, very yummy, most delectable Thanksgiving kind of
stuffing – very comfort food stuffing – forget the fois gras and any
other fru fru crap. Close the carcass around the stuffing ball so that
it stands on the stuffed ball of chicken with the leg bone pointing
skyward. Oil and season the now erect plat du our and roast it at 350
degrees for 45 minutes (Check internal temperature for proper doneness).
Serve it after a small salad, with olives and roasted and seasoned chick
peas, ala Grec (salt, pepper, garlic oil – roasted at 425 for 30 minutes
and drained on paper towels spread over a cloth dish towel).
Wines? Try a Chateau St
Jean Fume Blanc – the L’Etoile bottling and Tomassi Ripasso.
Desert? Each other. If
it’s the first date, try Sacher torte and Brut Champaign.
You can thank me later.