Anthony Lane on Bunny Lang is, as they say, self-recommending. (I’m tempted to say that Anthony Lane on any subject fits that bill.) If you need a push, look at the judo he does with “chestnut” here, in a riff on Lang’s “Caraway seeds on my tongue:”

What stirs the last phrase is an impatience with cliché. We are so accustomed to hearing sex extolled as “spicy” that it needs someone as brisk as Lang to break the habit. You can imagine her asking, “Well, what spice? Was it a nutmeg kiss, or a cinnamon quickie, or what?” Caraway gets rid of the old chestnut.