Upon graduating from University and awaiting my relocation to the bright lights and smoky streets of London, I was regaled with tales of the London dating scene. From what I was told, hoards of eligible single men, straight designer-stubble jawed and suited, were lining the streets waiting for me. I would be whisked off my feet in a blurry of exciting and inventive dates. Boris biking trips around London, parties at snazzy galleries, boating on the Thames. The romantical possibilities I believed to be endless and I was thrilled to arrive. I spent the first few weeks looking my casual best, anticipating those discussed hoards. But as the weeks and months passed, along with my high hopes my high heels shrunk in size as my enthusiasm for looking decent dwindled (though never a kitten heel – the absolute horror). 4 months in, heels were abandoned and lesbian flats adopted in abject defeat. For why should I make an effort, if all you London men can’t either?
And on the 5th day, God said thou shalt take your first date out for drinks. What do you do, where did you study, here drink this white wine spritzer while I tell you that great story again about my job in Finance. Your chat is just bad. I’m all for getting to know each other but really – it’s as if every 20-30 something male in London has read the same poxy guide to dating or downloaded some sort of date template off of Google-schweff. Did you all amass to take a cookie cutter and plan out identical mediocre dates in the hopes of some…success? Would a little imagination go amiss? When did the Disney prince ever sweep his princess off her feet with drinks?
And on the 5th day, God said thou shalt take your first date out for drinks. What do you do, where did you study, here drink this white wine spritzer while I tell you that great story again about my job in Finance. Your chat is just bad. I’m all for getting to know each other but really – it’s as if every 20-30 something male in London has read the same poxy guide to dating or downloaded some sort of date template off of Google-schweff. Did you all amass to take a cookie cutter and plan out identical mediocre dates in the hopes of some…success? Would a little imagination go amiss? When did the Disney prince ever sweep his princess off her feet with drinks?
| No, men, I have a much better idea. Take your dates to L’Atelier des Chefs near Oxford Circus. L’Atelier is a cooking school which holds delightful evening classes, amongst many others, for all levels. You go along, get taught 3 dishes and eat all together after. There is a bar inside the school serving excellent wines, so you won’t miss out on the ice-breaking effects of alcohol either, admittedly helpful for setting tongues wagging. Really, the pros are endless. The class sizes are of about 15 and so, if your game fails there is plenty of distraction to dilute your awkwardness. The food is always great – you should know, you’ll be cooking it. This is great with girls like me who like to eat (the best ones) because good food always gets our metaphorical juices flowing (do behave.). Nothing makes me more passionate and, probably, more receptive to your clumsy advances than a truly epic meal. And take note, I’m not alone. Food can be as sensual as you make it. Be mature, don’t take the example of the man at the last class I attended and ask your partner if she wants to help massage your meat. An absolute lead balloon. No – just be aware of the excitement that sizzles and tasty cooking smells can evoke and capitalise.  |    |
If you get the same chef as who taught me there, you’ll also land yourself a bit of a bonus. He followed the Gordon Ramsey School of Teaching and essentially shouted at us the entire time. It was brilliant. Having a bit of shared intimidation, or even a snigger, can only bring you two together even more. All the chefs teaching there are highly qualified and you will learn a real lot. And think about it; even if the date doesn’t work out, you’ll have gotten yourself some ace new cooking skills to show off to future dates. While I was there they taught us how to cook the perfect steak (manly) with a Chimichuri sauce, mustard beans and a vanilla cheesecake with salted caramel sauce. What a dream. The classes are practical and relaxed, you do everything yourself and there is plenty of time for a good old natter. Plus you get to drink during the classes. Happy days. It’s not expensive either, at 36 a head for an hour long class, or a scant 15 for a half hour, including the food you really can’t complain.
Furthermore, it’s just a bit different. It’s productive, more cultured than your average Wetherspoons and you’ll both get something out of it which is more than you can say for the average romantic liaison. In summary, a total corker, knock out, winner of a first date. So, men, pull yourselves together, get creative and direct your dates to L’Atelier des Chefs. I’d put out.
http://www.atelierdeschefs.co.uk/
19 Wigmore St London W1U 1PH
020 7499 6580
Furthermore, it’s just a bit different. It’s productive, more cultured than your average Wetherspoons and you’ll both get something out of it which is more than you can say for the average romantic liaison. In summary, a total corker, knock out, winner of a first date. So, men, pull yourselves together, get creative and direct your dates to L’Atelier des Chefs. I’d put out.
http://www.atelierdeschefs.co.uk/
19 Wigmore St London W1U 1PH
020 7499 6580
