Aphrodisiac dinner for two.

The best aphrodisiac in a dinner for two is the state you're in when you leave the table: satisfied but light, relaxed, with energy left for what comes next. No need for outrageously expensive ingredients to get there. You just have to avoid what weighs you down and take care of what awakens the senses.

The menu here comes in three courses: a crunchy fennel, orange and pomegranate salad, fish baked en papillote with ginger and lime, then honey-roasted figs. One glass each to go with it, not the bottle.

Allow three quarters of an hour of prep: almost everything is done before the other person arrives, and the kitchen stays clean. The rest happens around the plate (the lighting, where each of you sits, the pace of the evening), and we'll get to that too.

After a heavy meal, especially a fatty, sugary one, the body has only one priority left: digesting. Drowsiness sets in, the belly feels tight, and the urge to snuggle up to the other person gives way to the urge to lie down... and sleep.

Drinking without keeping count does the same job, only faster. Add a dessert served past midnight, and the evening that was supposed to end in the bedroom stops on the couch, in front of a screen.

A light menu therefore follows a few simple rules:

• modest portions, even if it means keeping seconds in the kitchen
• lots of vegetables, raw or cooked with little fat
• a lean protein, fish or poultry
• few starches, or none at all
• a fruit-based dessert
• one or two glasses, no more

Add a reasonable schedule. Sitting down to eat early in the evening leaves time to enjoy what follows without nodding off.

Some dishes aren't bad in themselves, but they work against you on a night like this. Cream sauces, fried food and the cheese board slow digestion down, and unlimited bread and big plates of pasta fill you up for the whole night.

Others cause a more down-to-earth problem. Cabbage, dried beans and lentils easily cause bloating, and raw garlic and onion linger on the breath for hours. Not ideal when you're planning on kissing.

Same caution with chili: a hint wakes up a dish and warms you a little, a dish that makes you cry ruins the evening. As for very rich desserts, save them for a Sunday lunch.

Let's be honest: no food has shown a direct, reliable effect on desire. The reputations come from elsewhere, from a suggestive shape, from a rarity that made the food precious, or from a sensation that resembles arousal.

Chili, and to a lesser extent ginger, create a feeling of warmth. Chili also makes you flush and sweat, and it speeds up the heart a little: all signs close to those of desire. Oysters are very rich in zinc, a mineral the body needs to make testosterone, but a dozen on one night changes nothing about that same night's desire. As for chocolate, it does contain stimulating substances, in quantities too small to do anything more than lift your mood.

Pomegranate and fig have been symbols of fertility around the Mediterranean since Antiquity, and saffron carries a reputation as an aphrodisiac as old as it is stubborn, with no solid proof to date.

What does work, on the other hand, is the pleasure of eating well together, flavors that surprise and a body that isn't weighed down. The menu that follows bets on that, with a few of these ingredients for the symbolism.

A fresh, crunchy starter, ready in a quarter of an hour, that whets the appetite without spoiling it. The aniseed of the fennel, the tang of the orange and the pomegranate seeds bursting between your teeth do all the work.

For two, you'll need:

• 1 fennel bulb (about 250 g)
• 1 orange (about 200 g)
• 60 g of pomegranate seeds (about a quarter of a fruit)
• 1.5 cl of olive oil (one tablespoon)
• 1 cl of lemon juice
• about ten mint leaves
• 15 g of unsalted pistachios, crushed (optional)
• salt, pepper

Method:

1. Cut the fennel in half, remove the tough base and slice it very thinly, with a knife or a mandoline (with the finger guard).
2. Peel the orange to the flesh over a bowl, then cut the segments out from between the membranes, catching the juice.
3. Whisk 2 cl of that juice with the oil, lemon, salt and pepper.
4. Arrange the fennel on the plates, add the orange segments and the pomegranate, then pour over the dressing.
5. Just before serving, add the shredded mint and the pistachios.

The step-by-step recipe, with its variations: fennel, orange and pomegranate salad with mint.

The papillote ticks every box for a night like this. Almost no fat, gentle cooking that keeps the fish tender, no smell of frying in the apartment, and a little moment of theater when each of you opens your own at the table, in a cloud of fragrant steam.

For two, you'll need:

• 2 cod fillets of about 130 g (or pollock, hake)
• 1 zucchini (about 200 g)
• 1 carrot (about 100 g)
• 10 g of fresh ginger
• 1 lime
• 2 cl of soy sauce
• 1 cl of olive oil
• 1 pinch of piment d'Espelette
• a few sprigs of fresh cilantro

Method:

1. Preheat the oven to 200 °C.
2. Cut the zucchini and carrot into long ribbons with a vegetable peeler.
3. Cut two squares of parchment paper about 35 cm on each side.
4. In the center of each, lay a bed of vegetables, then the fish. Grate the ginger over the top, add the lime zest and juice, the soy sauce, the oil and the chili.
5. Close by bringing the edges together and folding them over several times, so the steam stays inside.
6. Bake 12 to 15 minutes depending on the thickness of the fillets. The fish is done when the flesh has turned opaque and flakes apart.

Serve the papillotes closed and sprinkle with cilantro once they're opened. If you're hungry, 100 g of basmati rice (uncooked weight, for two) boiled in water is plenty.

The step-by-step recipe, with its fish-free variations: cod en papillote with ginger and lime.

A warm, fragrant dessert, ready in ten minutes, that ends the meal on a sweet note without weighing you down. The fig, a fruit of late summer and autumn, holds a special place in the erotic imagination: split open, it has something stirring about it.

For two, you'll need:

• 6 very ripe figs (about 300 g)
• 20 g of honey
• 2 sprigs of fresh thyme
• 120 g of Greek yogurt (or fromage blanc)
• 15 g of sliced almonds (optional)
• 1 turn of the pepper mill

Method:

1. Keep the oven at 200 °C after baking the papillotes.
2. Cut a cross into each fig halfway down and gently spread the quarters apart.
3. Arrange them in a small dish, drizzle with honey, strip the thyme leaves over the top, add a turn of pepper and scatter with almonds.
4. Bake 8 to 10 minutes: the figs should be tender and the honey lightly caramelized.
5. Serve warm, with a spoonful of well-chilled yogurt.

Out of season, two pears cut into quarters do the job very nicely, just allow 15 to 20 minutes in the oven.

The step-by-step recipe, with its variations: roasted figs with honey and thyme.

In small doses, alcohol relaxes you and lowers inhibitions a little. Beyond that, it does the opposite of what you're hoping for: sensations dull, erection and lubrication get harder, orgasm takes longer, and sleep comes fast. One glass each, two at most, is the right measure (a glass is 10 to 12 cl).

With this menu, choose a dry, lively white wine that stands up to the lime and ginger, or a brut champagne. Serve it well chilled, and put a carafe of water on the table: one glass of water for every glass of wine. By dessert, the glass is often empty, and that's just fine.

For an alcohol-free version, or to replace the second glass, make a ginger fizz. For one large glass, you'll need:

• 15 cl of well-chilled sparkling water
• 2 cl of ginger syrup (or 5 g of grated fresh ginger and 1 cl of cane sugar syrup)
• 1 cl of lime juice
• a few mint leaves and some ice cubes

Stir it in the glass, and it's ready. The ginger has just the right bite and gives a festive feel without a drop of alcohol.

Forget sitting face to face on either side of a big table. Sit at the corner of a small table, or side by side: knees brush, hands find each other without crossing the tablecloth, and you talk more softly.

For lighting, candles and a low lamp rather than the ceiling light, with enough brightness to see what you're eating (and the other person's face). Choose unscented candles for the table: the smell of a scented candle mingles with the flavors and muddles them. And keep them away from the napkins.

Prepare a playlist long enough for the whole meal, so nobody has to get up to change it. Phones stay in another room, on silent. Put everything on the table from the start (water, salt, pepper): the less you get up, the better the conversation holds.

This menu is easy to make together, and it's far from the least pleasant moment of the evening. One slices the fennel while the other peels the orange, you squeeze past each other in a kitchen that's too small, you brush against each other reaching for the lime.

Give the other a taste, from a spoon or a fingertip: the salad dressing, a pomegranate seed, a little honey. These small gestures look like nothing. Yet they build a physical closeness well before you sit down to eat.

Split the roles according to what you each feel like: whoever likes chopping chops, whoever prefers watching pours the drinks and picks the music. A slightly crumpled papillote or a salad less pretty than planned doesn't matter at all, nobody's grading you.

The whole meal plays on contrasts: the crunch of fennel and the melting tenderness of the fish, the freshness of the starter and the warmth of the figs, the tang of citrus and the sweetness of honey. Eat slowly, letting each bite work its magic. Slowness at the table often hints at slowness elsewhere.

For dessert, try a blind tasting. One of you closes their eyes (or ties on a scarf), the other feeds them by the spoonful: a pomegranate seed, a piece of fig, a little yogurt, a mint leaf, and they have to guess. A right answer earns a kiss, and so does a wrong one.

Fingers have their place too. A roasted fig is perfectly easy to eat by hand, and offering one to the other is a gesture that sticks in the memory. Just keep a napkin within reach, honey is sticky.

Ask before you go shopping, not as you're serving: an allergy or a strong dislike is an awkward discovery in the middle of dinner. The menu adapts easily.

• Fish allergy: the same parcel works with two chicken breasts (about 130 g each) cut into thin strips, 20 minutes in the oven, until the meat is white all the way through.
• Vegetarian menu: replace the fish with 200 g of sliced firm tofu, marinated for ten minutes in lime juice and soy sauce, then 15 minutes in the oven.
• Soy or gluten allergy: soy sauce contains soy and, more often than not, wheat. Replace it with a little more lime and a pinch of salt. Tamari, often gluten-free (check the label), is still made from soy.
• Tree nut allergy: simply leave out the pistachios and almonds.
• Dairy-free: a plant-based yogurt stands in for the Greek yogurt.

Good to know: fish allergy and shellfish allergy are two distinct allergies, one doesn't necessarily come with the other. When in doubt, ask, and skip it.

The whole point of this menu is that it can be prepared almost entirely in advance. Here's how to spread things out so you spend the evening at the table, not in front of the oven.

• One hour before: make the salad without the mint or pistachios and keep it chilled. Assemble the parcels and put them in the fridge. Get the figs ready in their dish. Rinse whatever you've used as you go.
• Thirty minutes before: set the table, cue up the music. If the wine isn't cold yet, put the bottle in a bucket of water and ice.
• As you sit down: turn the oven on to 200 °C and serve the starter.
• At the end of the starter: slide the parcels into the oven. The 12 to 15 minutes of cooking leave time to talk, or not to talk.
• When you take the parcels out: pop the figs into the still-hot oven, they'll be ready by the time you finish the main course.

The result: three trips to the kitchen during the whole meal, and a kitchen that's already almost tidy.

Once dessert is over, don't start on the dishes: they'll wait until tomorrow, just put the leftovers in the fridge. Change rooms instead (the sofa, the living room rug, the bedroom), bringing the candles and a glass of water each.

This is the moment for slow touches. A hand or foot massage, with no other aim than to stretch out the contact, makes the perfect transition: the body feels light, the mind relaxed, and nothing forces you to decide what comes next.

If the evening ends with a long conversation or falling asleep wrapped around each other, that's not a failure. A dinner for two has no obligation to deliver, and that's exactly what makes it so pleasant.

So pick an evening, do the shopping the day before, and keep the rule of the night in mind: light plates, one glass each, a table where you can touch. For what comes after, you don't need any recipe.