COOKING FOR A DATE (For Wicked Wednesday)

Choosing the dish is absolutely the key. Simple, but elegant; wholesome, yet not too heavy; flavoursome, but not excessively spicy. I’m not looking for a Michelin star here, all artistic little dabs of 3 different sauces adorning a single mushroom. I want  a dish that delivers its simple message with clarity and confidence, something where the ingredients taste of themselves.

If it were music, my date night dish would be a piece played by a string quartet rather than a full orchestra.

Here’s a couple of examples of the kind of dish I might select when I have company:

Tagliata. An Italian salad of rare steak with rocket and shaved parmesan. There’s a dressing made with good olive oil and the cooking juices, fragrant with lemon, rosemary and garlic.

 

Hake with a chorizo, white bean and spinach stew. A simple Spanish dish that can be prepared in minutes. Also, I’ll admit to a modicum of pride in my ability to handle a piece of fish.

These, and the the others I might choose, are dishes that come together quickly with a minimum of fuss.

The Tagliata for example: Cook the steak; rest it while making the dressing in the pan; slice it into the leaves and shave the parmesan over the top with a flourish. Job done! You’re both going to be hungry? Throw some Charlotte or Ratte potatoes into the oven with oil, garlic, and thyme before she walks through the door.

This is not dinner party cooking. There, the guests can look after themselves while I throw pans around pulling a more complex meal together. Cooking for a date, she’s going to be on her phone if I turn to face the oven for more than a few seconds. I want to be able to focus my attention on her, carrying on a conversation while bringing the food together, with it almost being a surprise when the meal appears as if by magic, after the minimum of actual cooking and with zero mess. Ditch the “Men make a mess in the kitchen “cliché; there’s nothing hot about that kind of mess.

Preparation is the thing, what chefs call the mise en place. By the time she arrives, the ingredients are all out of their wrapping and any chopping and pre-cooking is done. Actually not always the chopping. I might leave chopping herbs till the end and do it in front of her because it’s better for the herbs and, well, to be honest, because I’m pretty good with a knife. Wielding a knife skilfully falls just on the right side of the line between “demonstrating competence” (apparently a turn-on) and “showing off” (which will have the opposite effect).

By the time I’ve helped her out of her coat and hung it up on the empty hangar (that I checked was in the cupboard before she arrived) I’ll have washed any pans I’ve used, cleaned down my worksurface like a pro, and laid the table. The champagne (Yes, it’s ALWAYS Champagne) is in the fridge but has yet to be opened. Some artful nibbles, probably something involving smoked salmon, are laid out on a board.  Chill sounds are playing and the lighting is just right.

The scene is set.

Wooooahhhh…….. hang on a minute, B, let’s slow up here…….

I wonder…..

I wonder if this, which is very much the sort of thing I’d have done in the past, the correct choice?

Might this be all too old school and paternalistic, too “making sure the lady is looked after nicely?” for the modern age.

If I throw myself into dating, which is a frightening thought, but one that has to be contemplated, is this what my date will want?

Or is a good meal from Deliveroo, eaten in front of a carefully selected Netflix movie more the thing?

Perhaps the woman of today doesn’t want to be cooked for any more.

Perhaps an evening together is better if it’s a thing of shared conception, rather than something that I have prepared for her.

Hmmmm….

I imagined that being capable of inviting someone over to my place and calmly and competently producing a really good bit of cooking in about ten minutes might be a strong game.

But is it?

Helpppppp!!!!

 

 

More Wednesday Wickedness on cooking here: