Rude food

In Competition No. 3031 you were invited to provide a review by a restaurant critic that is tediously loaded with sexual language.
 
I have had this comp up my sleeve since reading a piece by Steven Poole in the Observer in which he laid into the relentless sexualisation of food in our culture: ‘Everyone revels in the “filthiness” of what they are naughtily pleased to call “gastroporn…”’, he writes. And Jamie Oliver ‘describes pretty much everything he is about to cook as “sexy”, as though not quite sure whether he would like to shag it or eat it …’
 
With the recent return to our screens of the queen of innuendo, Nigella Lawson, now seemed like a good time to set it. Lawson has said that she is mystified by the tag, which rather implies that it is all in the dirty minds of her devoted fans. Or perhaps, as she claims, it’s all down to the editing.
 
There was no need for editorial intervention to spice up the entry. The winners scoop £25. Basil Ransome-Davies nets £30.
 

Roger Maquereau, having aroused the culinary libido of the bourgeoisie in Cockfosters, has now opened a second restaurant, La Cuillère Grasse 2, on the opposite edge of town in Hampton Wick, whose lubricious association with the adjacent Bushy Park is enhanced by a seductive menu. One can take for granted the moist, vulvoid involutions of raw oysters, but among starters here the orally inflected foreplay bar is raised by the bonsai cauliflower sautéed in an emission of soya milk and asparagus foam, its tiny clitoral florets burnished pink by a glazing of cinnamon. Maquereau’s reinvention of the humble fried egg, the tantalisingly veiled yolk embraced by a white as extravagantly lacy as the filigree of a pair of pubis-hugging Janet Reger briefs, proved a climactic experience.