TEMPTATIONS: IGNITING THE PLEASURE AND POWER OF APHRODISIACS, by Ellen and Michael Albertson, Simon & Schuster, New York, 2002, 334 pages, $14.

It should be no surprise to anyone that food and sex are often so closely linked. After all, eating and intercourse are almost undoubtedly mankind’s two most basic instincts. Centuries before multitasking became a vogue concept, people were combining their favorite leisure activities and so, in the case of the Romans, giving themselves many extra hours to, um, mostly eat more and have more sex; at least when they weren’t conquering the known world that is.

But there’s obviously more to the sex-food combination than effective time management. Since Strom Thurmond was a little boy, and even before if legend is to be believed, certain foods have been imbued with powers to stoke the libido. All good stuff in theory, but does any of it work?

“Temptations” by Ellen and Michael Albertson, also known as “The Cooking Couple,” is a book that sets out to answer these questions, or at least give you the inside track on how to figure out the answers yourself. All I can say is that it’s a good job the collaborators on this book are married.

“Cooking and eating are like making love,” says the introduction to “Temptations” in a passable imitation of Chef from “South Park.” “Just by cooking a good meal, you are engaging in an erotic act.”

I’ll be frank at this point. I’m a little worried about going too long on this better-sex-through-eating thing. The potential for disaster seems present. Eating plenty of rich, expensive food gets you slipping beneath the sheets, for a workout that just piques the appetite and sends you hurrying to the kitchen again. Surely a possible spiral leading to a glorious but mucky end.

Although the Albertsons note that Marvin Gaye promoted sexual healing, Barry White was also one of the biggest lovers of our time. Could his “Your Sweetness is my Weakness,” have been a veiled reference to aphrodisiacs?

But what are the fancies we should be filleting or frying to feed our fantasies? The good news here is that it seems almost anything with any nutritional value, and a few things without, can be considered aphrodisiacs. Read this book and you’ll likely discover that after last week’s stop at the supermarket, you unwittingly brought home enough erotic victuals to start a minor baby boom. About the only item that fails to get a positive mention is that post-coital classic – the cigarette. The Albertsons do, however, recommend both cannabis and alcohol as potential aphrodisiacs. But then, any freshman in college could have told you that.

From clams to chocolate to chilies, “Temptations” gives us the skinny on eight of the most popular food groups for lovers. And as varied as the products that are reputed to whet the sexual appetite, are the reasons for their aphrodisiacal properties.

As well as telling you what to eat, “The Cooking Couple” offers hints as to how to work with the foods to design a balanced, lust-enhancing and healthy diet. They also offer suggestions on how to play with your food (Mother told me never to do that.) A lobster may be great food for the libido, but apparently it is even better as play food – one of the many scenarios outlined in the “Edible Orgy” section of the book.

As is to be expected given the pedigree of the Albertsons, hosts of a weekly radio show in Boston and writers who have between them scribbled for such journals as the Boston Herald, Natural Health and Playboy (natch), the book aims for a humorous approach to its subject matter. The text is scattered with ribald asides and semi-risque allusions.

Unfortunately, over the course of 300 pages, the tone can wind up a little wearying, and the book becomes a Monty Python character, relentlessly rasping, “Nudge nudge, wink wink,” into your ear. Voyeurs will be thrilled with the amount they can discover about the sex life of these celebrities, without resort to a long lens. Others may find themselves feeling as slimy as the oysters the couple lionize.

Nevertheless, that doesn’t entirely distract from the book’s primary mission. As a primer for those wanting to find some traditional, Viagra-free ways to season their sex life, “Aphrodisiacs” is a good, accessible place to start, and some of the recipes included are delicious to say the least. We tackled the Bouillabaisse one evening. With its complex, heady mixture of scallops, cod, clams and shrimp, underpinned by the Pernod and overarched with orange, there’s as much temptation to head for seconds as there is to head for the bedroom. Try it yourself, see which way you head. And if you want to know which we chose, I’ll offer a polite “No comment.”