I like food. I like sex. Any questions?

I wrote this on a long bus ride from where I was living out west to a music studio where I taught. White Rock to Langley is a two hour ride. Lots of time.

I was playing around with the concept of double entendres.

This was following an afternoon of, ahem, shall we say, culinary collaboration.

All sorts of things here. Some of my friends observe of my song-writing that I don’t write in double entendres.

More like single entendres.

Be that as it may.

I like the way garlic and onions frying together aromatize the kitchen and the rest of the living space. There is a sensual earthiness about it. Some people might say, “Eeeew, it smells like cooking!” and turn up their noses. I enter a space like that and say, “Omigawd, that’s delicious! Is that for supper?”

I also bake bread. And I like dessert. And whipping my own cream.

OK. Enough of that.

And chocolate and berries.

Sigh.

Food, preparing and eating it, possesses an unmistakable eroticism. Which is why you should never eat a banana while making eye contact. Same goes for eating tacos.

The rock vibe really sets in even before the lyrics reach the (clears throat) climax of the story.

From the outset I made the gender preference of the singer ambiguous enough to allow for multiple interpretations.

It’s fun. Enjoyed writing it and performing it.