And I’m not thinking about chocolate, champagne and strawberries, oisters, chillies or anything in the like.

For me, a cooked dish, regardless if I’m making it for a casual dinner or for guests, spicy spaghetti with chillies and garlic always sounds the bell of memories of long marathons in the bed room, only interrupted to prepare a quick and simple but flavourful meal to fuel the body for the next round. With very little washing up to do afterwards.

A single food item - maybe an ingredient, trchnically? - that never fails to make my mind go into the restricted acess area is flour. One of my first memories with having some kind of sexually charged interaction was in a kitchen while baking. It quickly evolved into having flour coated hands roaming over bare skin under clothing. Memories were made.