What is sexy food?
Written by Anni Mara
I texted my boyfriend asking if he would like a fish-finger roll with fried egg for lunch, as he was letting me know that he is on his way home, to which he replied as if I had just sent him a photograph of my bare chest. “That’s a hot message”, he said.
Oh, you mean the soft, white, pillow-like roll that melts into a sweet sponge in your mouth when you bite into it, a oozy yellow egg yolk with a crispy fish finger complimenting the whole bite. Oh yeah, darling. Come home, I’ll make sure you walk into a warm, fish finger sandwich waiting for you.
Food is functional, primal- a necessity, not a seduction. Yet, here I was, effortlessly weaving sensuality into something as humble as a fish-finger roll. Food and sex occupy similar spaces in the human psyche: both are essential, messy, indulgent. Both are pleasures we crave, consume, and sometimes even feel guilty about enjoying. Even when most of us can easily associate eggplants and peaches for something saucy, they are not the most appealing ingredients when we try to talk someone to bed. Perhaps there are foods that sounds sexy or look sexy, but never at the same time. And then again - what is in food that puts them into those categories at the first place? There is seemingly nothing sexy about something that is so essential to human survival- like eating, like breathing oxygen, like sex.
And let’s not forget the act of feeding another person—a gesture so intimate it often transcends the food itself. Whether it’s a shared forkful of dessert in a restaurant or a piece of fruit offered between smiles, feeding someone can feel like the ultimate connection. It’s a moment of vulnerability and trust, an unspoken exchange that says, “I want you to enjoy this as much as I do.”
Perhaps that’s why food so often plays a role in love stories—it’s not just about sustenance but about shared pleasure, a language of its own.
But what about the less obvious players? The foods that don’t need candlelight or a sultry soundtrack to seduce, such as the perfect crunch of a baguette crust or the intoxicating aroma of garlic sizzling in olive oil. These are the everyday moments of culinary intimacy that don’t scream sexy but whisper it in their own way. A ripe tomato, bursting with juice. The sharp tang of freshly grated Parmesan. “Oh, darling, I cooked you dinner!”
Food, at its core, is inherently sensual. It requires all five senses: the sight of glistening fat on a steak, the sound of a spoon cracking through crème caramel, the aroma of fresh basil, the texture of silky custard, and the taste of salt dissolving on your tongue. It engages us in ways that go beyond sustenance and into something deeper, something primal.
So, what makes food sexy? Is it the context, the company, or the act of sharing? Is it the indulgence of eating with your hands, feeling the juices run down your chin? Or is it simply the pleasure of something so good it feels a little bit naughty?
Perhaps it’s all of these things. Food and desire are inseparable because they are, at their heart, about connection—whether to another person, to the moment, or to ourselves. A fish-finger roll might not fit the classic definition of “sexy food,” but in the right hands, in the right moment, it’s as seductive as anything else.
And when my boyfriend arrived home and walked through the door that afternoon, his smile told me I was, indeed, right.
