
How to make the perfect fritto misto – recipe
On that note, and because my memories of the dish involve rustling salty piles washed down with well-chilled carafes of vino della casa at seaside restaurants, I always think of the fishy version (properly fritto misto di mare), but I've given suggestions below for a vegetable alternative so everyone can enjoy the feast. After all, as the Tuscans say, fritta è buona anche una suola di scarpa (even the sole of a shoe tastes good fried).
Alan Davidson's magisterial 1972 work Mediterranean Seafood explains that, while fritto misto is 'one of the most common fish dishes in restaurants on the Italian coast … the composition varies according to what is available, and there are scores of possible combinations. In Venice,' he adds, 'a typical mixture would be from the following range: inkfish or squid; soft-shell crabs; prawns or shrimp; eel; sardines. In Naples, the list would be shorter.' Quoting one signora Jeanne Caròla, he writes: 'Our fritto di pesce, the ultra-classical one, is not too varied: red mullet and squid only.'
With such a simple recipe, you should be guided by what's freshest, or what looks best, at the fishmonger – that's the Italian way. However, my job here is to test recipes as written, so obediently I went out to find large raw prawns, which most recipes call for, along with baby squid. Cesare Casella and Stephanie Lyness's The Fundamental Techniques of Classic Italian Cuisine demands fish fillets; Tessa Kiros' Twelve specifies red mullet, so, happening upon a fine Cornish example at my local fishmonger, I use that in both. Sasha Marx's recipe for Serious Eats, meanwhile, substitutes the usual sardines and anchovies for the North American smelt, which I swap back to anchovies. Caldesi, too, goes for anchovies, though she sandwiches tinned ones in fresh sage leaves, thereby adding a pop of salty perfume that proves irresistible; in fact, one of my testers asks why I can't just make a whole plate of those instead.
The River Cafe Classic Italian Cookbook simply calls for 'mixed small fish' (though its authors note that the day they went to the market, they were lucky enough to find 'langoustines, soles, mullets, eels, prawns and moscardini [baby octopus]'), which, in my case, means the anchovies and the whitebait I've already bought for Russell Norman's version. These are soaked in milk for 15 minutes before cooking – though Ruth Rogers and Rose Gray don't say why, it's said to reduce the 'fishy' flavour. Fresh fish ought not to need this treatment, so I've thrown caution to the wind and skipped this step.
Whatever you go for (do play about with my suggested selection below), it's very easy to overcook seafood – to my mind, the prawns stand up best to the fierce heat of the hot oil, even more so if, like Marx, you leave the shells on. But if crunching through them isn't your idea of fun, you might prefer to remove them first. If you fancy using fish (and the more textures and flavours here, the merrier, as far as I'm concerned), I find that small whole ones work better than fillets or cubes of mullet, which are difficult to cook perfectly and have a tendency to stick or fall apart. You could also use soft-shell crabs, scallops, mussels, even oysters; anything that appeals, really.
Vegetables are very much an optional extra, but I like the freshness that they bring to the dish – or as much as anything that's been deep-fried can be said to be 'fresh'. Caldesi suggests cauliflower and artichokes, Kiros artichokes, asparagus, courgettes and tomatoes, and Casella and Lynness courgettes and aubergine, plus sprigs of sage, parsley and basil. The artichokes, to my and my testers' surprise, prove the favourites; they don't seem to give off much water (courgettes and aubergines, on the other hand, are prone to turning soggy) and their shape provides lots of interesting ridges for the batter to cling to. But they're so seasonal that I've substituted the more easily sourced fennel bulb, whose aniseed flavour I think pairs better with fish. If you'd prefer to keep things vegetarian, use a mixture of vegetables that take your fancy, but avoid anything with a high water content such as mushrooms and ripe tomatoes.
Where the recipes really differ is in the batter they use, which varies from chef Pasquale Torrente's mere dusting of semolina flour to the enriched, beer-spiked batter in the Caldesis' The Italian Cookery Course. Being a sucker for carbs, I admit to a fatal weakness for the more robust and shatteringly crisp batter shell – somewhere between tempura and a fish supper – produced by Caldesi, Kiros and Angela Hartnett's recipes.
As with so much here, however, it's a matter of personal preference; if you like your seafood plain and simple, just dip it in seasoned semolina, or in the mixture of semolina and cornflour used by Marx, which does indeed help to keep it crisper for longer, or in the River Cafe's flour before frying. (Semolina gives a grittier consistency; Casella and Lynness mix cornmeal and flour for a similar, but even craggier result.)
Flour, according to Harold McGee's seminal On Food & Cooking, is the ingredient that has the 'largest influence on batter quality … the gluten proteins in ordinary wheat flour are valuable for the clinginess they provide, but they form elastic gluten and absorb moisture and fat, and so are responsible for chewiness and oiliness in the fried crust. For these reasons, moderate-protein flours make better batters than bread flour.' Though I don't find any recipes that call for bread flour, several mention the finely milled 00 flour traditionally used in pasta making, possibly because it's one that's often found in Italian kitchens. The example I buy, however, proves higher in protein than my standard plain variety, so I've stuck with the latter, cut with cornflour, which, as McGee explains, 'improves crispness because its relatively large particles are less absorbent, and its proteins dilute wheat gluten and reduce the chewiness of the crust'.
Much as I appreciate an excuse to crack open a bottle while cooking, I favour the plainer, water-based batters to those made with beer and wine, or indeed eggs and milk (with a special mention to the whisked egg whites in Norman's book Polpo, which give his dredge an ethereal, tempura-like effect). Cold sparkling water, in particular, produces a deliciously light, crisp result. If you're a real perfectionist, you might take Hartnett's advice and stir the batter over a bowl of iced water, because the colder the batter, the slower the gluten formation. I find simply using fridge-cold water and being careful not to overmix (chopsticks are, as she says, ideal for the purpose) work well enough for me.
I don't think Marx's baking powder is necessary, given the sparkling water, nor Caldesi's pinch of sugar, which I suspect is, like the milk in many recipes, more there to encourage the batter to brown than to add an overt sweetness. Fritto misto tends to be rather paler than, say, an onion ring; more a ghostly tentacle than a bronzed rubber band.
This is one recipe that you must, I'm afraid, get out the oil for: the clue is in the name. A high heat is best – Casella and Lynness's 165C feels too cool, and the seafood takes ages to brown, leaving some of it overcooked. Better to go in hot and fast, as Hartnett and several others recommend – though, unless you have a huge fryer, I'd also urge you to cook the different elements separately, to prevent the squid overcooking while the prawns are still floppy and wan. It's also best, if doing both vegetables and seafood, to cook the former first, or everything will end up tasting of fish.
Serve hot, with plenty of salt and wedges of lemon to squeeze over the top.
The ingredients list is just a guide, so feel free to swap in seafood and vegetables as desired.
Prep 25 min
Cook 10 min (depending on the size of your pan)
Serves 4
2 fennel bulbs
300g squid, baby or large, cleaned if necessary8 large raw shell-on prawns, or 12 medium ones200g small whole fish (ie, whitebait)16 sage leaves
8 anchovy fillets in oil, drained
125g plain flour, plus extra for dusting25g cornflour
Salt
Neutral oil, for frying250ml very cold sparkling water
Lemon wedges, to serve
Trim the fennel and cut it into chunky wedges.
Give the squid a wash, then remove the tentacles, and cut off and discard the head at the top of them.
If the squid are large, you might need to peel off the outer membrane (look online for advice) before cutting the body into chunky rings; if using baby squid, leave the bodies whole.
Wash the prawns, cut a slit down the back of each one and pull out and discard the dark 'vein' running along the prawn's back. Wash the small fish. Pat everything dry.
Pair up the sage leaves with ones of fairly equal size, then sandwich an anchovy fillet between each pair (you may need to trim one end off some of the anchovies for neatness).
Put the flours in a large bowl and season with salt. Put a little more plain flour on a plate.
Pour enough neutral oil into a large, heavy saucepan to fill it by no more than a third and heat to 190C (alternatively, set a deep-fat fryer to heat to 190C). Turn on the oven to low and line a baking tray with kitchen paper.
When the oil is almost up to temperature, quickly stir the cold sparkling water into the bowl of seasoned flours, mixing as little as possible; don't worry if there are lumps.
As soon as the oil is ready, toss the fennel in the plate of flour to coat, shake off the excess, then dip it in the batter. Shake the excess back into the bowl and carefully drop the fennel into the hot oil (don't overcrowd the pan or the oil will cool down too far and its contents will go soggy, so if necessary fry everything in batches), stirring once so it doesn't stick or clump. Fry for a couple of minutes, until pale golden brown, then scoop out with a slotted spoon on to the kitchen paper, blot off any excess oil and put in the low oven to keep warm.
Repeat with the prawns, followed by the squid, then the little fish, and finally the sage and anchovy sandwiches, making sure the oil comes back up to temperature each time, and bearing in mind that the prawns will probably take a little longer (three or so minutes if they're large specimens) than the squid. Go by eye: the batter should be crisp and pale gold, rather than bronzed.
Once everything is fried and ready, tip on to a serving plate, season with salt and serve with lemon wedges to squeeze over the top (and with a bowl for the prawn heads and shells).
Fritto misto: the capo of all fried foods, or does someone else fry seafood better? Do you prefer a light semolina dredge or a crunchy batter jacket? Or will you make the case for the vegetable, meat or even sweet versions?
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The Guardian
8 hours ago
- The Guardian
How to make the perfect fritto misto – recipe
Fritto misto (the term for 'mixed fry' sounds so much better in Italian, somehow) is, in the words of Katie Caldesi, 'an assortment of deep-fried vegetables, fish or meats … all bite-size, intended to be eaten with fingers and a wedge of lemon'. And she should know, because she loves the stuff so much that she served fritto misto at her wedding to chef Giancarlo. It's pure crisp, relaxed holiday pleasure – a simple crowdpleaser that everyone can dig into together, with, as Caldesi observes, a winning element of surprise: 'You don't know what is hidden beneath the batter until you've bitten into it.' On that note, and because my memories of the dish involve rustling salty piles washed down with well-chilled carafes of vino della casa at seaside restaurants, I always think of the fishy version (properly fritto misto di mare), but I've given suggestions below for a vegetable alternative so everyone can enjoy the feast. After all, as the Tuscans say, fritta è buona anche una suola di scarpa (even the sole of a shoe tastes good fried). Alan Davidson's magisterial 1972 work Mediterranean Seafood explains that, while fritto misto is 'one of the most common fish dishes in restaurants on the Italian coast … the composition varies according to what is available, and there are scores of possible combinations. In Venice,' he adds, 'a typical mixture would be from the following range: inkfish or squid; soft-shell crabs; prawns or shrimp; eel; sardines. In Naples, the list would be shorter.' Quoting one signora Jeanne Caròla, he writes: 'Our fritto di pesce, the ultra-classical one, is not too varied: red mullet and squid only.' With such a simple recipe, you should be guided by what's freshest, or what looks best, at the fishmonger – that's the Italian way. However, my job here is to test recipes as written, so obediently I went out to find large raw prawns, which most recipes call for, along with baby squid. Cesare Casella and Stephanie Lyness's The Fundamental Techniques of Classic Italian Cuisine demands fish fillets; Tessa Kiros' Twelve specifies red mullet, so, happening upon a fine Cornish example at my local fishmonger, I use that in both. Sasha Marx's recipe for Serious Eats, meanwhile, substitutes the usual sardines and anchovies for the North American smelt, which I swap back to anchovies. Caldesi, too, goes for anchovies, though she sandwiches tinned ones in fresh sage leaves, thereby adding a pop of salty perfume that proves irresistible; in fact, one of my testers asks why I can't just make a whole plate of those instead. The River Cafe Classic Italian Cookbook simply calls for 'mixed small fish' (though its authors note that the day they went to the market, they were lucky enough to find 'langoustines, soles, mullets, eels, prawns and moscardini [baby octopus]'), which, in my case, means the anchovies and the whitebait I've already bought for Russell Norman's version. These are soaked in milk for 15 minutes before cooking – though Ruth Rogers and Rose Gray don't say why, it's said to reduce the 'fishy' flavour. Fresh fish ought not to need this treatment, so I've thrown caution to the wind and skipped this step. Whatever you go for (do play about with my suggested selection below), it's very easy to overcook seafood – to my mind, the prawns stand up best to the fierce heat of the hot oil, even more so if, like Marx, you leave the shells on. But if crunching through them isn't your idea of fun, you might prefer to remove them first. If you fancy using fish (and the more textures and flavours here, the merrier, as far as I'm concerned), I find that small whole ones work better than fillets or cubes of mullet, which are difficult to cook perfectly and have a tendency to stick or fall apart. You could also use soft-shell crabs, scallops, mussels, even oysters; anything that appeals, really. Vegetables are very much an optional extra, but I like the freshness that they bring to the dish – or as much as anything that's been deep-fried can be said to be 'fresh'. Caldesi suggests cauliflower and artichokes, Kiros artichokes, asparagus, courgettes and tomatoes, and Casella and Lynness courgettes and aubergine, plus sprigs of sage, parsley and basil. The artichokes, to my and my testers' surprise, prove the favourites; they don't seem to give off much water (courgettes and aubergines, on the other hand, are prone to turning soggy) and their shape provides lots of interesting ridges for the batter to cling to. But they're so seasonal that I've substituted the more easily sourced fennel bulb, whose aniseed flavour I think pairs better with fish. If you'd prefer to keep things vegetarian, use a mixture of vegetables that take your fancy, but avoid anything with a high water content such as mushrooms and ripe tomatoes. Where the recipes really differ is in the batter they use, which varies from chef Pasquale Torrente's mere dusting of semolina flour to the enriched, beer-spiked batter in the Caldesis' The Italian Cookery Course. Being a sucker for carbs, I admit to a fatal weakness for the more robust and shatteringly crisp batter shell – somewhere between tempura and a fish supper – produced by Caldesi, Kiros and Angela Hartnett's recipes. As with so much here, however, it's a matter of personal preference; if you like your seafood plain and simple, just dip it in seasoned semolina, or in the mixture of semolina and cornflour used by Marx, which does indeed help to keep it crisper for longer, or in the River Cafe's flour before frying. (Semolina gives a grittier consistency; Casella and Lynness mix cornmeal and flour for a similar, but even craggier result.) Flour, according to Harold McGee's seminal On Food & Cooking, is the ingredient that has the 'largest influence on batter quality … the gluten proteins in ordinary wheat flour are valuable for the clinginess they provide, but they form elastic gluten and absorb moisture and fat, and so are responsible for chewiness and oiliness in the fried crust. For these reasons, moderate-protein flours make better batters than bread flour.' Though I don't find any recipes that call for bread flour, several mention the finely milled 00 flour traditionally used in pasta making, possibly because it's one that's often found in Italian kitchens. The example I buy, however, proves higher in protein than my standard plain variety, so I've stuck with the latter, cut with cornflour, which, as McGee explains, 'improves crispness because its relatively large particles are less absorbent, and its proteins dilute wheat gluten and reduce the chewiness of the crust'. Much as I appreciate an excuse to crack open a bottle while cooking, I favour the plainer, water-based batters to those made with beer and wine, or indeed eggs and milk (with a special mention to the whisked egg whites in Norman's book Polpo, which give his dredge an ethereal, tempura-like effect). Cold sparkling water, in particular, produces a deliciously light, crisp result. If you're a real perfectionist, you might take Hartnett's advice and stir the batter over a bowl of iced water, because the colder the batter, the slower the gluten formation. I find simply using fridge-cold water and being careful not to overmix (chopsticks are, as she says, ideal for the purpose) work well enough for me. I don't think Marx's baking powder is necessary, given the sparkling water, nor Caldesi's pinch of sugar, which I suspect is, like the milk in many recipes, more there to encourage the batter to brown than to add an overt sweetness. Fritto misto tends to be rather paler than, say, an onion ring; more a ghostly tentacle than a bronzed rubber band. This is one recipe that you must, I'm afraid, get out the oil for: the clue is in the name. A high heat is best – Casella and Lynness's 165C feels too cool, and the seafood takes ages to brown, leaving some of it overcooked. Better to go in hot and fast, as Hartnett and several others recommend – though, unless you have a huge fryer, I'd also urge you to cook the different elements separately, to prevent the squid overcooking while the prawns are still floppy and wan. It's also best, if doing both vegetables and seafood, to cook the former first, or everything will end up tasting of fish. Serve hot, with plenty of salt and wedges of lemon to squeeze over the top. The ingredients list is just a guide, so feel free to swap in seafood and vegetables as desired. Prep 25 min Cook 10 min (depending on the size of your pan) Serves 4 2 fennel bulbs 300g squid, baby or large, cleaned if necessary8 large raw shell-on prawns, or 12 medium ones200g small whole fish (ie, whitebait)16 sage leaves 8 anchovy fillets in oil, drained 125g plain flour, plus extra for dusting25g cornflour Salt Neutral oil, for frying250ml very cold sparkling water Lemon wedges, to serve Trim the fennel and cut it into chunky wedges. Give the squid a wash, then remove the tentacles, and cut off and discard the head at the top of them. If the squid are large, you might need to peel off the outer membrane (look online for advice) before cutting the body into chunky rings; if using baby squid, leave the bodies whole. Wash the prawns, cut a slit down the back of each one and pull out and discard the dark 'vein' running along the prawn's back. Wash the small fish. Pat everything dry. Pair up the sage leaves with ones of fairly equal size, then sandwich an anchovy fillet between each pair (you may need to trim one end off some of the anchovies for neatness). Put the flours in a large bowl and season with salt. Put a little more plain flour on a plate. Pour enough neutral oil into a large, heavy saucepan to fill it by no more than a third and heat to 190C (alternatively, set a deep-fat fryer to heat to 190C). Turn on the oven to low and line a baking tray with kitchen paper. When the oil is almost up to temperature, quickly stir the cold sparkling water into the bowl of seasoned flours, mixing as little as possible; don't worry if there are lumps. As soon as the oil is ready, toss the fennel in the plate of flour to coat, shake off the excess, then dip it in the batter. Shake the excess back into the bowl and carefully drop the fennel into the hot oil (don't overcrowd the pan or the oil will cool down too far and its contents will go soggy, so if necessary fry everything in batches), stirring once so it doesn't stick or clump. Fry for a couple of minutes, until pale golden brown, then scoop out with a slotted spoon on to the kitchen paper, blot off any excess oil and put in the low oven to keep warm. Repeat with the prawns, followed by the squid, then the little fish, and finally the sage and anchovy sandwiches, making sure the oil comes back up to temperature each time, and bearing in mind that the prawns will probably take a little longer (three or so minutes if they're large specimens) than the squid. Go by eye: the batter should be crisp and pale gold, rather than bronzed. Once everything is fried and ready, tip on to a serving plate, season with salt and serve with lemon wedges to squeeze over the top (and with a bowl for the prawn heads and shells). Fritto misto: the capo of all fried foods, or does someone else fry seafood better? Do you prefer a light semolina dredge or a crunchy batter jacket? Or will you make the case for the vegetable, meat or even sweet versions?


Daily Mirror
15 hours ago
- Daily Mirror
Expert's three gardening jobs you must do to make sure roses bloom longer
There are plenty of gardening jobs to do at this time of year, but taking a little time to tend to roses now can make a big difference in the longer term. Garden enthusiasts, take note - before the summer sun sets for good, there's a blooming opportunity to extend the life of your rose blooms. Alan Down, a green-fingered guru with half a century of cultivating expertise and founder of Down to Earth, advises that properly tended roses could flourish well into the cosier days of mid to late autumn. He emphasised the importance of July rose care, stating: "July rose care often gets overlooked. But a little effort now will reap dividends that in many roses leads to prolonged flowering." READ MORE: Gardeners told to use 'unusual' item to stop dust build-up on peace lilies As the balmy late summer months roll in, it's prime time to keep an eagle eye on your roses due to the increased activity of aphids, spider mites, Japanese beetles, and greenflies on the prowl and keen on making your roses their target. By sparing just five minutes each day to tend to your prized roses until the cusp of August, you can help ensure they stay bountiful and even coax out blooms that would otherwise be waving goodbye much sooner, reports the Express. Feed the roses Firstly, he urged gardeners to feed those hungry roses. Alan advised: "Roses are hungry plants and respond well to being given more feed now. This is especially so if your garden has hungry light soil. The main feeding time is of course during winter. But a top-up at this time of the year will work wonders!". To feed your roses most effectively, look for a balanced fertiliser with equal measures of nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium. However, those passionate about petals might consider specially formulated rose feeds or organic options involving fish parts and bone meal to really let their roses revel. Encourage your roses to keep on blooming Simply pop out to your garden and remove any wilting petals from your roses to encourage the growth of longer-lasting blooms. Alan explained: "It's okay to just nip off each browning flower so as to stop the plant wasting energy on seed production. "But it's better to cut back into that flowering stem too. Aim to cut back the stem to remove at least two leaves as well as the fading flower. This should stimulate fresh strong growth that will grow flower buds at its top." Stay vigilant with rose disease management One particularly pervasive affliction is black spot, a fungal infection that thrives in humid climates and can be identified by big circular purple marks on yellowing rose leaves. Be on the lookout for other conditions such as powdery mildew, which presents as a white dusting on leaves, potentially causing them to wilt, and rust, recognised as an orange residue underneath the foliage. Promoting good air flow around your roses, watering from the base, deadheading, and feeding them well markedly decreases the likelihood of encountering these summer woes. Alan remarked: "Well-pruned and well-fed roses are in better shape to resist this attack. But regular sprays that coat new shoots in a protective layer will go a long way to preventing your bushes from blackspot, powdery mildew and rust attack. So don't let up on the spraying now if you want more colourful and sweetly scented roses growing on you till autumn!".


The Guardian
16 hours ago
- The Guardian
‘It's not just pleasure – it's resistance': portraits of people with their sex toys around the world
Most of us are taught to keep our sexual lives private. We're taught to hide our desires, and all too often, to be ashamed of them. Cultural instruction about sex tends to be very prescriptive. Sex happens in our bedrooms, behind closed doors, between a man and a woman. Sex is for procreation rather than pleasure. Sex is for marriage. Sex should only happen when you fall in love. If you're a woman, you should only have one sexual partner for the whole of your life. If you're a man, the sky's the limit. Certainly, some of these mores have shifted over time, relaxed a bit. But mostly, we're supposed to keep our sex lives to ourselves. And certainly, we aren't supposed to partake of anything that would strain the strictures of 'good taste', like say, pornography or sex toys. My Toys, a project from Italian photographer Gabriele Galimberti, is a frank celebration of the devices and accessories we use in our erotic lives. He photographed people, from around the world, with their collections of sex toys. It is a visual ode to pleasure, one that might be easy to dismiss or titter at given our general cultural discomfort with talking openly about sex and pleasure and what we do, what we use, how we enjoy our erotic lives. Our bodies can be lush sites of pleasure all on their own, but there is no shame in wanting, craving, seeking more. Toys give us access to that more. They afford us some control over our pleasure. They allow us to be expansive in our explorations of our bodies and the bodies of lovers. They allow us to test limits, to be voracious, even greedy with our sexual appetites. And why not? Galimberti's new work stands in stark contrast to a previous project, The Ameriguns, a series of photographs of Americans, from all walks of life, with their extensive gun collections. We know America has a gun problem, that there are more guns than people in the United States, that unfettered access to guns, no matter the consequence, is a core tenet of conservative ideology but still … to see the shocking abundance of weaponry laid out on a pool deck, or in a bedroom, or neatly organised in a room dedicated to firearms, is jarring. It is damning. It is terrifying. I was reminded of The Ameriguns, because there is far less cultural sanction toward such wanton displays of weaponry than toward overt displays of sexuality. My Toys is not prurient, but it is fascinating. The sheer range and quantity of toys on display is impressive and even educational. Each image in the series speaks to the diverse buffet of a healthy sex life – so much possibility in so many shapes and sizes. In the photos, the toys aren't actively being used. Instead, they are artfully arranged in a semicircle on a wood floor or in a neat row on a coffee table or on a kitchen counter or hanging from a large wall rack. The people allowing us these intimate moments look into the camera. Many of them have small but sly smiles, giving the impression that they know something delightful that we don't. I admire the unabashed confidence of the subjects, so willing to share with strangers a window into their sex lives, how they receive pleasure, how they give it. When you look at sex toys, it can feel kind of silly. Many look alien. You study them and wonder how, exactly, they're supposed to be used until, through trial and error, you figure it all out and, hopefully, enjoy the reward of your efforts. There is a pact many friends make, an entreaty, should something terrible happen to us, to rush to one another's homes, for the sole purpose of clearing out whatever cache of sex toys and other contraband we might have, before our families descend and go through our things. It's funny but also not, a reminder of the ambient anxiety many of us have around admitting that yes, we have sex, and yes, some of us use toys. That we care about what people might think about our erotic lives after we are dead and no longer able to feel shame or have to withstand judgment speaks to the way shame is intertwined with our sex lives. I don't really write about my own sex life. Perhaps, it is the Catholic in me. Or the fact that I teach college students. Or that I am shy. Or that I believe some things are better kept private, because they are intimate and sacred. My wife and I have toys, we enjoy them, though we aren't particularly organised about them. It's nice to have options. We don't have to limit ourselves. As consenting adults, we are free to explore the pleasures of one another without restraint (metaphorically) and with restraint (literally). As I have transitioned into middle age, I have become intensely bored by puritanical attitudes toward sex. The abnegation of pleasure, the valorisation of erotic austerity, hold no sway. To what end do we deny our desires? Who does our dissatisfaction really satisfy? But being sex-positive, libertine, open to the fullness of an erotic life is not apolitical. It does not happen in a vacuum. As Amia Srinivasan notes in The Right to Sex, 'the sex-positive gaze risks covering not only for misogyny, but for racism, ableism, transphobia, and every other oppressive system that makes its way into the bedroom through the seemingly innocuous mechanism of 'personal preference''. We want what we want, yes, but are we willing to interrogate why and what has influenced our desires? In some ways, sex toys liberate us from some of these questions. It is just us and, perhaps our partner(s) and a girthy length of silicone or strands of leather bound to a handle or metal nipple clamps dangling from a chain, and the possibilities of where our erotic imaginations lead us. In My Toys, we see some of what that looks like, a gorgeous atlas of abundant desire. It is a fantasy, though, to believe sex toys might free us from the ills of oppression. In some parts of the world, in some states within the US, the purchasing and/or owning of sex toys is verboten. In Thailand, they are considered obscene objects. Sex toys cannot be imported to the Maldives. They cannot be sold in Alabama, or Mississippi, and under Texas Penal Code 43.23 an adult can only legally own five or fewer sex toys. How the Lone Star state enforces that law, I couldn't tell you. It all comes down to control, but pleasure is one realm where few people will allow themselves to be controlled (nonconsensually). We must deny ourselves all kinds of things, for all kinds of reasons, but pleasure, that is ours. We have every right to embrace our libidinal selves, licitly and illicitly, alone, or with strangers, or partners or others. It is how we can surrender to the whelm of desire. It is why, in the images here, we see the smirks, but we also see defiance. Put another way: for our fifth wedding anniversary this year, my wife Debbie gave me a piece of art from Joseph Beuys, a 3inx8in piece of paper with the word 'SURRENDER' in bold type. My cheeks immediately warmed because I knew the art was not just art. It was an offering. Bustie, 49, burlesque performer, and Tony, 60, Amsterdam, Netherlands Bustie: Sex has really changed for Tony and me as our bodies have changed. For me, it's perimenopause, and Tony has a spinal cord injury. Tony was active in the BDSM scene and I was always a really sexual person, so there has been a lot of grief. But it was nice to take the toys out for the photo. Some of them we hadn't used for a while – it was a bit of a sad moment. You think, where have you been? Tony has started to give some away to friends because they should be enjoyed – especially the beautiful leather ones. Bodies change over time. What feels good now might not feel good 10 years later. What's changed is which toys we play with. To wield a whip, you need to be able to stand, balance, have strength in your arm; it's quite a workout. And for me, sometimes with perimenopause, genitals respond differently, and vibrators feel more intense. So we're using different, gentler toys now, much more foreplay and much more lube. The root of the stigma is the patriarchy. A straight man who has a lot of sex isn't shamed about it, but everyone else is. Frida, 37, sex shop owner, Milan, Italy My first sex toy was horrible! I got it in my early 20s from a shop in Berlin – this terrible red, huge, too hard vibrator. I think I used it once and put it in a drawer. It was a bit of a wake-up call for me. I thought, maybe I have to be the person who brings higher-quality products to people. So 10 years ago I opened a shop called Wovo (which sounds like the Italian word for 'egg'). It could trivially be considered a sex shop, but I wanted it to be a point of connection for Milanese subcultures, where people don't have to feel as if they need to hide or justify themselves for having unconventional sexual preferences. It's a place where the topic is, first and foremost, normalised. We organise sex parties which have strict rules about consent and people as sexual subjects, not objects, and this also challenges a very rooted cultural idea about owning one's partner. Social media has done a great job on the normalisation of sex and masturbation, but also of the non-desire for sex. It's important to make all people feel included. I also think the influence of family in Italy means that we inherit a cultural legacy of fascism from our grandparents, which obviously limits sexual freedom and gender expression. Historically, we have not been a particularly rebellious country that fought for its rights; whereas in Spain, for example, the feminist struggle has made itself heard much more. Griffon, 45, artist and entrepreneur, New York, US (photographed in Austin, Texas) I grew up in the Oregon countryside before the internet was around to answer my questions, give me ideas, or offer something like Amazon to deliver what I needed at a moment's notice. I used to use all sorts of things: tampons before I even got my period, vegetables from the garden – once I sculpted a dildo out of duct tape. Looking back, I am amazed at how resourceful I was. Now I love to use the Hitachi Magic Wand with my partners, combined with a thrusting dildo if I'm playing alone. Where sex toys are winning in my life is that I actually orgasm. I'm amazed at how often men don't even care if we enjoy it. Coco, 30, clinical sexologist, Thailand Sex is not just pleasure – it's resistance. Every time I claim ownership of my desires, I reject the patriarchal script that says my body exists for male consumption. Society polices women's sexuality through slut-shaming, purity culture, and reproductive control – but my autonomy is my rebellion. Whether I embrace celibacy, casual sex, self-pleasure, or committed intimacy, the power lies in my decision. Sex toys are illegal here in Thailand; talking about them has become how I 'screen' people. If someone claims they're open-minded but then says legalising sex toys is 'morally debatable'? Out. After sharing my story, I realised how many people were waiting for someone to say out loud that it's OK to like sex. To have a body that doesn't fit some bullshit 'standard'. To unapologetically take up space in a world that tells us to be quiet, ashamed, and small. I do it because the second I did, people exhaled. Enkiny, 29, artist, Qingdao, China I don't see any difference between the topic of sex and something like food – I can say I like spicy or sweet flavours, and I can express my love for sex toys. However, with older generations like my parents', I would never talk about sex toys in front of them; it's still something they would find difficult to accept. In my art, I explore themes of self-awareness, including sexuality. That is a result of the social environment we live in. My German friends and I can discuss sex, and there's no embarrassment. On the other hand, in China, most people tend to avoid the topic. My ex-partner and I both believed that sex toys were an important part of enhancing our experiences. But when I was gifted a whip, that took me by surprise! Serena, 35, nurse, Florence, Italy For me, sex is a necessity. I crave it and think it's essential in my relationship above all. As a homosexual woman, toys take the pleasure of penetration to a higher level. In long-term relationships, they encourage you to discover yourself and your partner. Also when you imagine how to first use them, it's fun. At the moment, the curve dildo is my favourite, because of its shape and dimensions. There aren't many spaces where you can share thoughts about sexuality without being judged. I don't really care what others think of my personal life – it's called personal for a reason. By showing myself to the public, I'd like to encourage people to live freely. Nadia, 36, geophysicist, Kilamba, Angola For me, sex is a synonym of relaxation. It's a biological manifestation of the fact we were born to complement one another. This is my favourite toy, but for me they are mere curiosity – I can live without them. Enrica, 33, data visualisation manager, Milan, Italy Sometimes with my partner I felt blocked, and so initially I used sex toys alone to try to get back in touch with myself and my body. The sensations you get when you know your body are totally different. It unlocks pathways to emotional connection with a partner, and also creates a connection with yourself and with your body that you then carry into the rest of your life. I bought my first dildo about two years ago out of curiosity, during a Black Friday sale. After using it, I wondered why I hadn't done it sooner and why none of the people close to me had told me to do it. My favourite depends on my mood, but it's probably the clit sucker. Talking about sex feels normal for me, like I'm showing tools that should be part of everyone's lives. You don't have to work in the sex toy industry for it to be normalised; you can work in analytics and still chat with people about it. I think while there's still stigma, we are more able to create sex-positive spaces. When people see this picture of me, reactions are split between positivity and, 'You're crazy to expose yourself like this!' and 'Are they all yours?' Daniel, 30, PA to an MP, Berlin, Germany Sex for me means joy, personal freedom and emancipation. Sexuality constitutes an important part of me as a human being. I have a positive idea of sex and admire the variety of sexual experiences, be it random or intimate, sensitive, rough or whatever. I prefer casual human bodily contact over the use of sex toys, which I have barely used with other people. But I still see them as a vital part of my sex life. It's easy fun that is available 24/7. Many people use sex toys – they bring joy and pleasure. Why shouldn't I speak publicly about them? Carmen, 38, motion graphic designer, Barcelona, Spain Sex is a way to discover yourself, a way to try new things and see what we like and don't like – and that evolves and changes. Over the past five years, I went into a research phase around my sexuality, and sexuality in general – reading books, listening to podcasts and so on. Reading about sex toys and sex education made me want to test out new things. I realised that at times, particularly when I was young, I was doing things not for my own pleasure, but because in some way someone told me to. I bought my first sex toy in 2011 after watching a Sex and the City episode where they were talking about the Rabbit. Right now, my favourite one is ceramic; I love beautiful objects, so that's a factor when choosing one. I'm tired of society always wanting us to shut up about sex. People have kinks, women masturbate just as men do and no, not everyone likes the same things. There are still taboos around it but I hope that talking about sex, self-pleasure and kinks is getting more normalised. Jessica, 35, cartoonist, Amsterdam, Netherlands My introduction to the world of sex toys was nothing short of iconic. I grew up in Maryland in a strong matriarchal family. When I was about 18 my mom found out I was having sex, sat me down and said: 'When it comes to your pleasure, you can't always rely on men to get the job done.' Then, with a knowing smile, she handed me some cash. 'Here's some money for a vibrator.' So armed with her encouragement and the legendary Rabbit vibrator, I embarked on a journey of self-discovery and took control of my own pleasure. It took me years to realise I could bring my partner into this process. Men often have a fear of sex toys because they think, 'But where am I in this?' Men grew up being told the goal is to perform and women were taught to fake orgasms and centre male pleasure. I still think a big problem is that many women don't know that their own pleasure is valid. Sex toys are a normal part of many people's lives, yet a lot of shame still surrounds them. I moved to the Netherlands a decade ago and found myself living in this 17-person university flat, heartbroken, unemployed and embarrassed about my life. So I decided to draw about it. That led to the creation of Vanillacooldance, my cartoon on a mission to break taboos about sexuality and relationships. By sharing my stories and the thousands I get back, we all collectively realise that we're not alone. Silence breeds shame. Alexis, 46, writer, Berlin, Germany Toys teach me to slow down and savour new pleasure paths. My ex-partner gifted me a toy for my 40th birthday. My clitoris was thrilled! Now I test them for the brand. I wish we were given toys as teenagers as part of public education, before we even had partnered sex. Because from a female perspective, I think we are overtly and subconsciously taught that we are here to give pleasure, to perform pleasure and to be receptive to this external force. And that creates a really messed-up feedback loop. If we were to give a young lady of maybe 16 a toy to start to explore her body, it would help de-stigmatise self-pleasure and agency. Can you imagine the dialogue that would open up around that? Hugo, 31, painter, and Tania, 34, performance artist and acrobat, Berlin, Germany Tania: Sex should be playful and exploratory, a way of showing love and affection to yourself and your partner. Toys are the perfect way to experience new sensations and intensify existing ones, and also to explore outside the gender roles of sex. I came out as queer not long ago and it was life-altering to realise that if I wanted a big and beautiful pink cock, I could have one. It has been a slow journey of self-discovery with my own desires and sexuality. Growing up femme-presenting and a people-pleaser, sex was more about the other person than my own experience of pleasure. My first toy was a little bullet vibrator that my roommate in college went to buy with me when one drunken night I told her I had never had an orgasm. It wasn't until I met Hugo that I really got into sex toys. I remember being a little overwhelmed and excited seeing his collection for the first time, and almost surprised that he had so many toys designed for female pleasure. I had never had a partner who was interested in pleasing me without reciprocal expectations. I grew up in a household that never discussed sex. I was born in Italy, where you don't even talk about tampons; then I went to Catholic school in Georgia, US. Our sex education was basically just showing all the diseases you could get – it stunted my sexuality. Living in Berlin, and with this relationship in particular, I felt excited and safe exploring my sexuality. Our connection has only deepened through the use of sex toys; they allow us to please each other in ways we never thought possible. Hugo: I'm a surrealist painter and include sex toys in my paintings. When I was growing up, there was an idea that sex toys were only for women or old people. Men can be scared of them. First, there's a bit of homophobia; then also the idea that if you introduce one into your relationship, you're admitting you're not enough for your woman. But toys bring a lot of pleasure and fun, especially in a couple situation. Gulim, 41, writer/content designer, Almaty, Kazakhstan I don't have a partner right now, so toys help me not to lose interest in sex. A close friend owns a sex shop and gave me my first one. I don't use it any more, but keep it as a souvenir. At the moment, my favourite is the Womanizer; I call it the Porsche of vibrators. In Kazakhstan, the topic of sex is taboo. When I published photos of myself in underwear on social networks, several people said overweight women should be ashamed to show themselves. I want to fight prejudices about overweight women. We are also beautiful, sexy, love sex and orgasms.