Food, Writing and the erotic

Of late, my favorite detective fiction writer is Donna Leon. Her detective lives in Venice and when he's not chasing criminals, he is eating the most wonderful meals cooked by his wife. And of course there are wines to go with these meals. Here is a quote from Suffer The Little Children:

Brunetti usually disliked eating the same thing for lunch and dinner, but the tuna steaks Paola had simmered in a sauce of capers, olives and tomatoes could hardly be said to have originated on the same planet as the tuna tramezzini he had eaten fro lunch. Tact and good sense prevented his making any reference to the latter, since comparison even with such paltry opposition might offend. He and his son Raffi shared the last piece of fish, and Brunetti spooned the remainder of the sauce on to his own second helping of rice.

"Dessert?" Chiara asked her mother, and Brunetti realized that he had managed to save space for something sweet.

"There's fig ice-cream," Paola said, filling Brunetti with a flush of anticipation....

Sensational it was, and after the four of them had managed to knock off an entire kilo, Brunetti and Paola repaired to the living room, each with a small glass of grappa, just what Brunett's Uncle Ludovico had always prescribed to counteract the effects of heavy meal.

I can't but wonder how it would be possible to do the same with a British detective. How could steak and kidney pie or a hamburger ever be as sensual as some of the dishes Brunetti describes. Moveover, he goes home for lunch! What detective does that! I love it!

I've been a bit preoccupied by the sensuality of food and drink in the last week. I'm not sure why. Reading another Donna Leon novel probably did it. So,when I went into a book shop yesterday looking for a book on Chinese cooking, I couldn't resist a book by Isabel Allende, Aphrodite: the love of food and the food of love.
This from the introduction:

The fiftieth year of our life is like
the last hour of dusk,
when the sun has set and one turns
naturally towards reflection.
In my case, however, dusk incites me to sin,
and perhaps for that reason,
in my fiftieth year I find myself reflecting
on my relationship
with food and eroticism: the weaknesses
of the flesh that most tempt
me are not, alas,
those I have practiced most.

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. Just a coincidence, I must add.