BY JAY FRIEDMAN
PHOTOS BY RINA JORDAN
Chef Jason Wilson will never look at his customers this same way. Not after our conversation.
I am, after all, not just a food writer, but also a sex educator.
Jason and his business/life partner Nicole are cuddled close on a banquette at Crush, the restaurant they started based on their romance. When I tell them I want to talk about the connections between food and sex, Nicole says “something special happens here at Crush,” pointing out that the restaurant’s slogan is “arouse your senses.” She and Jason love to witness first dates, proposals, weddings, and anniversaries, and frequently hear from people who tell them that a romantic dinner set the right tone for a perfect evening. “I’ve had folks tell us that they went home and had a fabulous night,” Jason says. “Or, sometimes they don’t even make it home. We’ve seen people spend 40 minutes in the bathroom, and they weren’t getting sick.”
We all enjoy a laugh about this. Though it gets me wondering, aloud: “What is it about a good dining experience that leads to sex?”
“We impart love into our food…the whole menu oozes sensuality,” Jason says, before Nicole turns more philosophical. “Taste is one of your senses,” she explains, adding “Food is one of the simple pleasures of life, like sex. It’s something you can’t live without.” Jason agrees. “Food and sex are on the same playing field of ultimate pleasure.”
As both my jobs are about pleasure, Jason’s statement piques my interest. How does the pursuit of pleasure start, and where does it go?
“There’s an evolution of taste, just as there’s an evolution of sex,” Jason asserts. He explains that most of us take baby steps with food. As kids, we’re fussy, with limited diets. We like Oreo cookies, and other sweets. But then we grow older and typically develop a desire for savories, like bacon. Then we discover prosciutto, and suddenly we like Brussels sprouts with pancetta. “The more you open up yourself, the more incredible it can actually become,” Jason says, adding “And sex is the same way. I can’t imagine people having sex just to do it—or doing it the same way all the time. It makes no sense to me.”
“Well, what about the people who come to the restaurant to eat the same dish all the time?” I ask.
“Yes, we have customers who come in and always order the short ribs,” he says. “They can’t get that dish elsewhere, or they don’t have the 50-gallon stockpots and immersion circulators and sous vide stuff to make it at home. Whereas others go for the 6-course or 12-course tasting menus, wanting a new experience each time.”
I push the issue. “And what do you think this says about their sex lives?”
Jason smiles. “It’s interesting, as I’ve never really thought about it this way,” he says. “I was listening to a story on the radio one day about a study that tracked people’s movement based on their cell phone usage, and the result was that people are far more routine than they actually let on.” He pauses before continuing. “Looking at the way people eat could be a window on how they behave [sexually]. Maybe the ones who have the short ribs and a glass of the cabernet every time are the missionaries, and maybe the ones who do the tasting menu are the swingers. I mean, who knows?”
“Perhaps some people find their comfort food, and some people find their comfort sex,” I suggest, to which Jason responds: “Yeah, some people like what they like. It’ s missionary, it’s three minutes, and it’s done—then you roll over and go to sleep, and it’s like: What the hell happened to my life?”
There’s nothing wrong with liking comfort. It’s important to know what feels good for yourself and for a partner. Inevitably, you’ll have favorites. But I believe that the most fulfilled people have an ever-expanding menu of sexual behaviors, filled with ever-changing specials. Variety is the spice of life, and you won’t know what you like until you give it a try. It’s easy to get focused on one position, for example, just as it’s easy to get focused on one favorite food. This is where sex lives get in a rut—what’s called “vanilla” sex. It might bring comfort, and it might be happy and sweet, but it’s plain, and eventually for most, without passion.
Jason’s comment, “The more you open yourself up, the more incredible it can actually become,” is a lesson of love. Like a fine dining experience, sex is not something to rush. Instead of big bites, take nibbles. Enjoy the process. Think about it. Talk about it. Relax and take note of the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and textures of the experience.
Jason is thrilled that anyone would love his short ribs enough to return to Crush regularly, but he’ll often throw his regulars a little taste of something different in hopes of expanding their repertoires—maybe moving them ever-so-slowly toward feeling comfortable ordering the tasting menu. Good chefs try to build relationships with their customers; as Jason tells me, “Trust is one of the most important things to develop.” The same can be said for sex. A healthy relationship is a partnership, made better with good communication and open negotiation.
Crush’s hamachi crudo is a good example of something Jason recommends to his meat-eaters. Hamachi is a rich, fatty and yet not very strong-tasting fish. Also, crudo is light, in contrast to a huge steak, which can be too much for a hot-and-heavy evening.
The food at Crush is at once simple and complex. (What I love about eating at the restaurant is that I learn something every time; sex should be the same: always a learning experience.) Jason exudes ecstasy as he talks about the rich oiliness of the candied Cerignola olives and the resulting texture when mixed with some tartare of hamachi, the sweet and sour flavors and second degree of soft texture from the hedgehog mushrooms, the sweetness and acidity of the coulis, a puree which features preserved lemon, olive oil, and champagne; and the tastes and textures of the pumpkin seeds and shaved fennel. “There’s a delicate sensuality—which is what I found in my partner here,” he beams as he nuzzles Nicole.
While the conversation remains lively, it’s time for Jason to go cook. As with previous visits to Crush, a full plate of chocolates completes the experience. “Enjoy,” Nicole and Jason beckon. I take in the alluring shapes, colors, and textures of the treats as Jason describes them to me: “Almond Joy”-like marconas, coconut rum balls, giandujas, mint decagons, and more. No vanilla here! I can no longer resist, ultimately sampling each one, slowly, closing my eyes to arouse the rest of my senses. It’s the end of my evening at Crush, but the night is still young…
Jay Friedman is a certified sex educator (by the American Association of Sexuality Educators, Counselors and Therapists) and is full-time on the college lecture circuit, where he’s shared his insights and outbursts on love, sex and dating with thousands of students for over 25 years. He brings similar passion to his food writing, compiling his crushes and cravings at www.gastrolust.com.
