Dear Natasha,

I just watched The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, and there's this scene where Jean-Do – paralysed after a stroke – has this fantasy about eating a tonne of oysters with a beautiful woman. He feeds oysters to her, and they make out all over the table. I want to introduce some aphrodisiac foods into my love life, partly to consume and partly to rub all over our bodies. How and where can I get 'er done?

Cheers,

Foodie fun

Dear FF,

I think of myself as a love scientist, so I went out and did some first-hand experimental research for you. Here's what happened.

At 9pm I entered a restaurant that shall remain unnamed, because this is not a restaurant review. I ordered a plate of oysters and some Champagne.

9.15pm: First plate of oysters arrive. I have broken the meal into shifts, to better evaluate my reactions over a gradually increased intake of erotic substances.

9.18pm: Have consumed three oysters with lemon, and two sips of Champagne.

Feeling refined, gently delighted, tickled and curious.

I have consumed: one Hama Hama (from Washington state), one Kumamoto (also of American origin) and one Effingham (from Pacific Canada, the British Columbian inlets).

9.27pm: Round two. Two more Effingham and one more Kumamoto. The Effingham oysters are creamy, petite and pale, with delicate edges the colour of vintage lace. The Kumamoto is a much more masculine mollusk, its edges tinged with black, the meat plumper, with a little more chew. Personally, I prefer the smoothness of the Effingham – it's a gentler introduction to the carnal business of slurping wet flesh and the surrounding liquid at the dinner table. The briny, deep-cupped Kumamoto offers a lot of liquor – the water surrounding the meat.

9.35pm: Round two servings complete. Feeling: addicted. Champagne: half gone. Ordering round three. I recommend you eschew all forms of cooked oyster or hot sauce. Just go with lemon, and taste the terroir, er, "merroir" of the oyster's native region.

Now the 40-something restaurant manager is making his rounds, leaning over tables and offering hellos to his most loyal, deep-pocketed, and alluring patrons. I ask the all-important question: "So, are oysters actually effective aphrodisiacs?" (Subtext: or am I just getting a wee bit drunk?)

"Here's the thing," he muses, leaning on elbow toward me, gesturing in small circles with one hand, "It's partly... the shape. The suggestive, feminine shape. That's part of it. And it's pure protein, right? So it is absorbed quickly and processed quickly and then you get a little pick me up."

Pause.

"But if you really want to know, just buy me a couple dozen and we'll go back to my place and you can find out."

Ha. Gotta love the cheekiness. The man makes a valid point, though. You really just have to try The Diving Bell and the Butterfly fantasy to see for yourself.

Since Roman times, since Aphrodite and Eros, oysters have been praised for their erotic powers, but modern science has not confirmed what we so lasciviously want to believe. Various chemicals found in mollusks have been proven to have effects on rat brains, but we're much bigger than rats. The chemicals are only found in trace amounts, so a potent, drug-like effect is "medically unlikely," according to Joy Davidson, psychologist and author of Fearless Sex. "You can't mainline oysters," she adds. True, we can't. Yet.

All you can count on is your own experience. Head to one of Shanghai's fine oyster bars. Osteria, La Creperie, Enoteca, Laris... the list goes on. As for rubbing the wet flesh all over yourselves, you may wish to try 100 Century Avenue for that. Located within the Park Hyatt hotel up high in the Shanghai World Financial Center tower, you can eat in the restaurant, then retire to an equally posh suite, to continue the feasting on other, messier, forms of food fun in private.

Whatever you do, do not go cheap. Casanova would not go cheap. Casanova reportedly ate oysters every day. Some sources say he ate up to 50, in the morning, in the bathtub. That man knew how to combine maximum pleasure in minimum time. And why not spoil yourself? Make her feel special. Make the event feel singular.

Establishing a tone of unfettered grandiosity is an essential part of your strategy, friend. You want her feeling like a spoilt princess when you lift a half-shell full of goo and liquid to her lips and say, "Suck, my dear".

That's how Casanova did it. (Not kidding.)

Un milione di baci!

xoxo Natasha

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