Dinner for two
Dancer's libido
Deborah Bull
1. Integrity. My first, unbreakable rule is that there must be no trace of dishonesty. Nothing turns me off more than the pre- tence of a person or place that it's some- thing it is not. The restaurant should have a clear idea about what type of establishment FOOD AND WINE sponsored by Fortnum & Mason it aims to be, and stick doggedly to it. This means that there must be a consistency of theme that runs through the architecture, the table settings, the menu and the prices. I enjoy a genuine greasy spoon as much as anyone. But if a restaurant sets itself up to be at the forefront of chic, I do not expect to find paper napkins (or would they be serviettes?) and butter portions wrapped in gold foil. Nor do I expect the head waiter to address me as 'Madame' and then be unable to translate the French on the menu into English.
2. An agreeable appearance. In winter, a room with wooden floor or panels is espe- cially inviting. One can almost hear one's feet tapping on the solid surfaces. Sympa- thetic lighting can be very helpful. The sur- roundings, like the lover, must be pleasing to the eye, although the restaurant should not be outrageously and self-consciously beautiful. I am always wary of blinding beauty as it frequently goes hand-in-hand With self-absorbed vanity. 3. Size isn't everything (gentlemen, take heart). Despite the current fashion for restaurants the size of airports, veritable gastrodromes of culinary art, I have never found satisfaction lies in proportion alone. Anyone trying to seduce me should book a table in a discreet and smallish restaurant, not a plate-glass showroom. 4. As with making love, substance must outweigh style. The meal has to be a feast for all the senses, not just the eyes, so caramel filigree fretwork and decorative finishes must enhance real honest to good- ness food and not masquerade as an end in themselves.
5. The dish must be well balanced, low in fat and not too saucy. While a small amount of fat is beneficial, and warming at Christmas with its evocations of Victorian feasts, I find quantities of the stuff unpalat- able. And I like my sauce served on the side, to be dipped into as and when I feel like it. Sauce poured on by the ladleful often disguises ingredients of dubious qual- ity. As for the food itself I'm a carbohy- drates girl, so I go straight for the bread. It has to be, like the man, both chunky and wholesome. Then a first course; something light, not for priggish reasons such as keep- ing fit, but to save myself for the main act — so a salad or grilled vegetables. For the main course, it must be pasta. It doesn't matter what kind of pasta as long as it is long and thin. Surprisingly for a dancer, I do not eschew puddings. Sugar is ideal for the end of an evening, especially if one is expecting to stay up — and indeed for it to stay up, as it were. Sugar, as Casanova said, gives you an instant burst of energy. Hope- fully the inevitable slump will coincide with sleep. My favoured desserts are crumbles, apple or rhubarb, alternatively bread-and- butter pudding.
6. Not too boozy. A good wine undoubt- edly adds to a meal, complementing the food and breaking down inhibitions, yet it should be limited to a glass or two. Too much alcohol befuddles clear judgment, and the decision to allow my heart to be won over is one which will be taken by my head.
7. Intrigue. The experience must leave me wanting more, feeling that I have mere- ly bobbed along the surface of what is on offer, and eager to plumb the depths of the entire menu. I should leave with a fierce desire to return, not blessed relief that the occasion is over. Where would this ideal meal happen? Assuming it is in a restau- rant, at Raoul's in Little Venice, not far from where I live in London; open all day, mixed cuisine, serves almost everything I like.
8. Above all, though, it must, just must be dinner. Many years ago, I rented a flat in Notting Hill with a fellow dancer who has since become an internationally renowned ballerina. We shared the same philosophy of dating. As one or the other of us would say, as we put down the phone on some irritatingly relentless supplicant and wearily pencilled in a 12.30 for 1 p.m. appointment in the diary, 'Lunch is a meal you have with someone you're not going to sleep with.'
Deborah Bull is a principal ballet dancer of the Royal Ballet.
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