There comes a time in every writer's life when it becomes necessary to recognize what people really care about. I have had such a moment since the publication of my new book about oysters.
I wrote this book because I realized that, through telling the history of the development and destruction of New York City's oyster beds, I could tell the entire history of New York, its dining and culture, politics and government, and raise questions about the destruction of urban environments. People do seem to be interested in these issues, but I have noticed that there is something else they really want to know about.
During every interview, usually early on in the questioning, the interviewer asks something like, "So, are they an aphrodisiac? How does it work?"
One critic in an otherwise enthusiastic review complained that I had failed to give more information about the role of oysters as an aphrodisiac. I did give it more than a page. But it seems clear that in today's conspicuously dysfunctional society, one type of dysfunction is more preoccupying than all the others.
Had I watched more television, I would have realized this, because it seems that a great deal of programming is sponsored by pharmaceutical companies selling aphrodisiacs. And perhaps this is what is -- forgive the expression -- stimulating all this discussion.
I always assumed that aphrodisiacs were largely mythical, that any placebo would work if you believed in it. Oysters have an erotic appearance, as does rhinoceros horn in a different way, and so they are thought to be aphrodisiacs.
When the Dutch first came to New York, they put their hopes in striped bass, partly because they had never seen such a fish before and because they noted that when Indians caught stripers, they would give them to their wives, "who looked for them anxiously." In earlier, less-scientific times, the process was usually not mysterious. People in the Caribbean believe conch to be an aphrodisiac, so it is traditionally served along with liquor and women in Caribbean houses of prostitution.
The same concept prevailed in 19th century New York, where oyster cellars -- bars in those peculiarly New York half-basements of Manhattan buildings -- featured drinks, oysters, snuggly private rooms and women, in the words of one city chronicler of the time, "all of one kind."
