Sauce pots: how to cook your date into bed

I’m going to start this article as I started the book I’ve just finished: on the defensive. It’s called Cook Your Date Into Bed, you see, and I’m bracing myself for the backlash. I know you will immediately think of other writing on the same subject, which is mostly (entirely) a load of cheesy, clichéd tosh. Cooking for another person is a lovely gesture and should be about having fun. What went wrong? When did the genre become such a vomitous, pink-frilled douche? It seems that, for some reason, at some point, talking about cooking to impress got incredibly lame.

Apparently, only certain dishes were suitable; seared scallops as a starter, wrapped in parma ham. In fact, anything wrapped in parma ham. Particularly chicken. Basically the kind of recipes that scream Ready Steady Cook circa 1992. The kind of recipes that make me want to give up feeding myself, let alone other people.

There was a whole set of “ingredients to avoid”, top of the list being spinach as it “may get stuck in your teeth”. Really? What’s the worst that could happen? “You’ve got some spinach stuck in your teeth.” “Oh, have I? Thanks.”

It gets worse, though, with the scientifically unfounded concept of “aphrodisiacs”. When my publisher suggested I include a chapter on them, I mentally limbered up for the slating I was going to give the idea.

None of this rubbish has to happen. Basically, on a date (worst word ever; shall we see if we can get to “third base?’) you want to impress and have a good time — simple as that. It’s also about survival. Just try not to cock anything up. There’s a scale — ranging from burning something to hospital-ising your date with anaphylaxis because you didn’t know they had a nut allergy. The latter happened to one of my mates. No second date.

Dating is like almost any other situation — it can be handled with food and booze. Give it some thought. Here’s how: 1. Make yourself look good with minimal effort and have fun in the process. 2. Actually, that’s it.

The Perfect Martini

There’s a right way to make a martini and I will have no arguments on this matter. The method below will make a stonking one. Do not deviate from it.

One chilled martini glass (stick in the freezer for at least an hour)

90ml gin. A martini is made with gin. It is not made with vodka. If you want vodka, make a different drink. My gin of preference is Beefeater — solid and crisp, without any overly floral crap

A capful of Noilly Prat dry vermouth, cold

A twist (cut a slice of lemon peel. Remove any white pith)

Combine the gin and vermouth in a cocktail shaker. Add ice and stir for two minutes. Don’t shake it or you’ll end up with loads of shards of ice, which will dilute your martini. When condensation appears on the outside of the shaker, strain into the cold glass. Hold the lemon peel over the top of the glass and fold it in half until you see a little spray. Serve at once.

Chocolate Honeycomb Mousse in Jars

This is basically a posh Crunchie. Its purpose is to liven up the most anti-social and pointless of all romantic scenarios: the cinema. People seem to insist on cinema dates, so I had to think of some way to help them out. If your date isn’t impressed when you sneak these in, they can hit the road.