Christopher Pincher slams the door on a bad year with a classic champagne

Age: what else is Jan Steen’s “Oyster Girl” offering on the side? There is no nakedness as appetising as a peeled grape’s.

none of these nostrums works. Although eating and sex seem to be complementary, mutually lubricating forms of sensuality, every alleged aphrodisiac is a kiss in the dark.

Some recipes are unfalsifiable because impractical or ironic. One of Norman Douglas’s in Venus in the Kitchen, begins, “Take a young crane.” Another involves “several brains of male sparrows and a half quantity of the brains of pigeons which have not yet begun to fly”. We are in the realm of love-spells and amulets, though Douglas also recommends, equally improbably, chicken curry. Some, I suppose, like it hot.

St Agnes and St Valentine will approve eaters who honour their feasts with genuinely heart-warming, chill-dispelling dishes, instead of dabbling in pagan love-rites. For the former, a navarin of one of the saint’s freshly shorn lambs is ideal: trysting virgins are supposed to prepare for her feast by weaving the wool.

Caramelise fatty pieces, then cook slowly to melting point, with garlic cloves, baby turnips, and tiny carrots. Before serving, sprinkled with parsley and chopped anchovies, add whole tomatoes and a splash of brown sherry.

St Valentine’s reputation for putting lovers together may derive from the nesting habits of doves that coo in February: this year, his feast occurs just before Lent; so pigeon’s breasts will suit him, in a rich stock, stirred with a slug of sloe gin, mushrooms, cream and abundant sage and garlic.

If on the other hand, you want to try Keats’s menu, the ingredients are still available. The lovers never got round to eating them: they had other priorities to discharge before their hurried elopement. It goes to show that an affective atmosphere is more conducive than affected food.