Kitabı oku: «Eat Me: Love, Sex and the Art of Eating», sayfa 2

THE BEGINNING

There is no sincerer love than the love of food.

GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

Your eyes meet across a crowded room at a party, on the tube, in a pub, at a wedding, down a coalmine, or even at Grandma’s funeral. It matters not a jot wheresoever the first glimpse occurs when Cupid’s arrow strikes and we meet a stranger who literally, inexplicably, takes our breath away. That spectacular, bestillmybeatingheart moment when everyone else in a 5km radius disappears and kapow! You are in lust.

Asinine, garbled conversations tend to follow, both stumbling over words, finding everything the other says fascinating, achingly familiar and hysterically funny in equal measure. Then, with slightly glazed eyes and manic grins, numbers are exchanged along with meaningful, longing glances … here we go again.

The stage is set …

The Players are eager to play …

Enter stage left, boy meets girl …

ATTRACTION

Like a Moth to the Flame

So, Debbie McGee, what first attracted you to the millionaire, Paul Daniels?

MRS MERTON

In order to transform ourselves into the gastronomic goddess we yearn to be it is crucial that we have a subject, namely a man, around whom we can weave our culinary magic – and not just any old guy, he must be someone that we like enough to want to impress and don our pinny for. If you already have someone in mind, good for you; for those of us who are still looking, this chapter is especially for you. (Although, even if you have your prey in sight don’t skip this chapter ’cos, honey, you never know.)

I love to cook and enjoy nothing more than inviting good friends round, cooking up a storm, sharing a few bottles of wine and putting the world to rights. I’m a little more reticent to cook for a man, a new potential Mr Right – I don’t flash my copper-bottom pans for just anybody.

The problem is, as I’m getting a little older I’m getting a lot fussier. These days it takes a little more than a cute arse and a moody stare for me to want to grind my spices, rattle those pans and shake my booty.

Much has been written about Attraction. Why is it that some people attract us like a moth to a flame whilst others, for no apparent reason, leave us as cold as yesterday’s custard? How is it that one girl’s Titanic is another girl’s Love Boat?

I wish I knew. It would certainly facilitate the soul-destroying, life-sapping and ego-wrecking process of trying to meet ‘someone new’.

Sex appeal is 50 per cent what you’ve got and 50 per cent what people think you’ve got.

SOPHIA LOREN

From my experience we girls generally go for the same ‘type’ over and over again, no matter that we really should have learnt our lesson by now. With me, it’s bad boys. No matter how often it ends in tears I just can’t help myself; if they look a little naughty and act a little wild you can be sure I’ll be fluttering my eyelashes and simpering in their general direction.

In an attempt at attracting a member of the opposite sex with a view to ‘dating’, all we can do is make an effort to get out there, put our best foot forward, chest out, tummy in and hope for the best. Or is it? What if we had some pointers? Some inside information?

I asked all the men I knew what they found attractive in women, what it was that caught their eye and captured their hearts. Below, please find the, sometimes unexpected, results of that exhaustive study.

It will come as no surprise to any of us to hear that men fall in love with their eyes and women fall in love with their ears. Guys just cannot help themselves. They are suckers for a pretty face, big boobs, a peach of a bottom and a knowing smile – not necessarily in that order. (Unless they are drunk, in which case they don’t care what you look like as long as you agree to go home with them. Tragic, but true. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.)

However, conversely, are we ladies not in turn attracted to a six-pack? George Clooney? Brad Pitt? And of course, a healthy bank balance always does amazing things to a guy’s phwoar-factor. They have their fantasy woman and we have our fantasy guy, but in the real world we don’t date the ‘fantasy’, we date each other.

Are you with me thus far?

Whilst all men (yes, all men, unless of course they’re watching football) will do a double take at the sight of a well-stacked babe with a pert bottom, full lips and pelmet skirt, deep down they’re not that shallow when it comes to choosing a mate for life. They just couldn’t be. Could they?

The guys I spoke to inferred that when seeking a Long Term Relationship, the majority of them (did you get that? I said the majority, some are indeed hopeless cases) are not attracted solely to the tits and arse package when it does not include some or all of the following attributes.

Prepare to suspend your deeply cynical beliefs and be amazed.

Beauty came top of the list, although surprisingly men are not as attracted to glamour girls as we think they are. Beauty, it would seem, is indeed in the eye of the beholder.

True, the kind of women they want to date take good care of themselves and of how they look but, apparently, it is not about having the perfect body or looking like the models in the fashion mags (airbrushed within an inch of their skinny, cellulite-free, digitally-enhanced, irritating selves), it is about confidence. If you look good you will feel good, ergo you will be upbeat, friendly and approachable. If you make no effort with yourself, why should anyone make an effort with you?

To keep a man you need to be:

a lady in the parlour, a cook in the kitchen

and a whore in the bedroom.

JERRY HALL

So it’s not about being a perfect ‘10’, it’s about being the best you that you can possibly be, no matter what you may weigh, how old you are or how much money you have.

Take heart, ladies, here’s what men really want, in no particular order:

An infectious giggle, sparkly eyes, manicured hands, a toned body (but definitely not skinny, all the men I spoke to preferred a curvier girl), also important is intelligence and a wicked sense of humour that includes being able to laugh at ourselves.

Men are attracted to women who are independent, have a certain joie de vivre and are in control of their own lives. They also like women who are unpredictable, exciting and adventurous, both in and out of the bedroom.

They want a woman with whom they can have fun, who preferably likes football (a tough one I know), who doesn’t want to change them (admit it, we’ve all tried) and who understands when he’s had a bad day and he needs a cuddle.

They are dead keen on women who can cook (funny that), and girls who are not carrying around loads of baggage from past relationships. Having similar interests, ideals and goals is also considered important.

Men adore women who go to dinner and actually eat. They want someone who will support them, love their mum and not expect them to give up their mates or spend every Saturday afternoon shopping.

In addition? Men want sex; lots and lots of sex. They never want to hear the words ‘Not tonight darling, I have a headache’. Ever.

A woman waits motionless until she is wooed. Much how a spider waits for a fly.

GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

Ok, now for the gentlemen. What attracts us ladies to men? Good looks are clearly a consideration, but we are not expecting you to look like a movie star. That said, grooming is paramount, we want you to look and smell good. Aftershave should definitely be in evidence, but not so much that we are asphyxiated.

Women have a bit of a thing about men’s shoes, my advice is buy the best you can afford and keep ’em polished. Lots of women say a good sense of humour is imperative, make us laugh and it would seem you are home free.

Bottoms came up, a lot. We girls apparently have a bit of a thing for your pert buns, almost as much as we like kind eyes but not as much as we value that old chestnut Good Manners. We like it when men open doors for us, pay for dinner on a first date and talk to our faces rather than our cleavage. We like it when you have orderly, tidy homes and when you listen, really listen, to what we are saying. If we do tell you our problems we don’t expect you to fix them, just listen.

Gentlemen, it’s better for all concerned that you don’t go on and on about football, your bitch/angel/goddess (whichever fits) ex or drone on and on about work. We know you work hard. We do too.

Oh, I nearly forgot, we love that you can cook but please don’t do it as well as us.

Men don’t live well by themselves. They don’t even live like people. They live like bears with furniture.

RUTH RUDNER

Men are having a hard time these days but, conversely, women have never had it so good. (I think.) Apparently we live in an age where Women Can Have It All. But as much as we do want it all, we don’t want to lose our femininity and we still want our man to be a real man, even if we are earning more than you and are perfectly capable of changing a fan belt whilst knocking up dinner for ten.

But, and there’s always a but, in behaving like the strong, silent, dependable men we yearn for, you must be strong but not too strong. God forbid we should feel patronised or controlled, but there again God help you should you display any sign of weakness. (Understand why I’m feeling a bit sorry for them?)

Gentlemen, we don’t want to wear the trousers but we don’t want you to wear them either, couldn’t we just take a leg each?

Yup, women really can have it all. The job, the kids, the holidays, the money, the perfect relationship, the perfect body, new boobs and smooth botoxed skin that will never age and the most significant validation of all, a trouser leg. It’s just that sometimes it’s exhausting and we just want a cuddle. And a chocolate biscuit.

Intuition is the strange instinct that tells a woman she’s right, whether she is or not.

OSCAR WILDE

FIRST DATES

First Impressions

Don’t think of him as a Date, Think of him as a Dinner.

LUCILLE BALL

Hopefully our improved talents in the art of attraction will have been put to good use and will have resulted in securing the attentions of an eligible and gorgeous man, one whose sole purpose in life is to ask us out to dinner.

So you’ve finally got a date, but please don’t be tempted to cook, you’ll have plenty of time later to wow him with your culinary expertise if the evening goes well. Go out to a lovely restaurant, relax and find out a little more about each other and see if this is worth pursuing.

A propos of not cooking, do take my advice as I’m talking from bitter experience. Every time I have cooked on a first date it has ended in tears, generally mine. Even if the food was perfect and everything looked fabulous, by the time my date arrived I was frizzy-haired and frazzled from the hours spent in the kitchen and from the cleaning regime required to turn my apartment into something out of Vogue Interiors.

On one occasion when I was asked out, memorable because I really liked this guy and had been trying to get his attention for months, I decided to dazzle him with both my cooking skills and my fabulous 44th-floor apartment overlooking Hong Kong harbour. So I stupidly (with hindsight) invited him to dinner.

I cleaned, shopped and cooked all day, preparing a menu planned with military precision. Parma ham with Chanterelle melon was followed by an inordinately expensive grilled lobster and a mango soufflé finished off the dinner. The whole meal was washed down with several bottles of Veuve Clicquot. I wore my killer little black dress and lit enough candles to illuminate the Vatican. Everything was perfect.

Except … he was Jewish. (Who’s to know?) He didn’t eat Parma ham (pork) and he didn’t eat lobster (shellfish) and hated the perfumed aroma of mangos.

I became increasingly flustered and more than a little resentful that all my hard work had resulted in him nibbling on a breadstick and not much else. Especially not the hostess.

Whilst I’m sure my ill-advised dinner was not solely to blame (I think it was a lot more to do with my evidently increasing displeasure), having eaten the square root of exactly nothing he made his excuses and left. That was the last I heard from him.

Like I said, don’t be tempted to cook. (In a fit of pique I ate everything on the table plus all the after-dinner mints so not only did I feel rejected, I also felt fat. Not a good combination.)

Back to happier things.

It doesn’t matter how many first dates I’ve had or how many restaurants I’ve eaten in, I always get excited about the first time I have dinner with someone new. You never quite know what will happen, there’s always the chance that this could be the one.

The problem is, of course, that first dates don’t always live up to our expectations. I’m sure we all have a Dating Disasters Dossier, filed away in our memory under Not To Be Repeated Under Any Circumstances. Those dates that forced us to question our apparent inability to spot a really bad idea! How in the name of all that is sacred could we possibly have accepted, or worse yet requested, this interminable torture? I have spent far too many first date dinners surreptitiously glancing at my watch, willing the minutes to tick past whilst seated opposite someone with whom I had absolutely nothing in common and, worse, whom I was starting to actively dislike.

It happens.

Far too bloody often, actually.

You know who you are, guys, those of you from my bleak and beleaguered past that caused me to coin the idiom ‘First Date Disorder’. If I looked bored it’s because I was. There, now you know.

The tragic thing was that on these ghastly, coma-inducing, sub-standard debacles I invariably ended up paying the bill, purely to prevent any possibility of having to kiss him through some kind of misplaced guilt. Subsequently, I ended up bored to tears, questioning my judgement and, to add insult to injury, considerably poorer.

Oh, the diabolical ignominy!

So, given that all of us must have truly terrible tales of first date disasters why do we repeatedly put ourselves through the lottery-style risk they entail?

That’s easy, we just keep going back for more (akin to a boxer who won’t stay down), because every now and then we stumble unsuspectingly into first date nirvana, a rare and magical encounter whereby the simple act of having dinner with somebody affords us such exquisite pleasure it erases all memories of the bad dates that have gone before. (I have on occasion experienced this phenomenon and when it’s that good, it’s the best.)

The problem with these fairytale dates is that I am unable to eat a single bite during dinner. However, to conceal this angst I have perfected the art of pushing my food round the plate in such as way as to appear to have eaten quite a lot. Later on at home, after an enchanting evening which has me fantasising about our next date – the sexy way he holds his glass and how much I love his voice – I suddenly find that I am starving and heading for the kitchen to make a bacon sandwich!

I’ve had a wonderful evening, but this wasn’t it.

GROUCHO MARX

What people order on a first date can be a bit of a revelation in terms of their personality and their expectations of the evening ahead. Here are some examples from real dates – this stuff really happened to me. I share it with you so that you can spot the bad bets immediately and not bother with a second date! The female examples, however, I gleaned from my male buddies.

Traits to watch out for when on a first date with a man:

As you sit down he requests a glass of tap water, skips the starter and orders the cheapest main course on the menu, plus a glass of house wine that he nurses all night. He then proceeds to divvy up the bill, ensuring that you pay for the extra coffee you ordered and refusing to pay the service charge.

He’s cheap and, worst of all, the man has no style. This is date hell. Dump him.

The first thing he does is order champagne followed by two dozen oysters, he then suggests you skip the main course and have another bottle of fizz instead. He orders a vast dessert meant for two which he spoon-feeds you in a rather suggestive fashion.

This guy wants to get dinner over with as quickly as possible and ply you with enough aphrodisiacs and champagne to guarantee that you’ll be a bit pissed, ergo, horny. The idea is to get you into his bed in record time. On the plus side he has a modicum of style and, I’d wager, lots of charm, but beware of sleeping with anyone on a first date, no matter how many oysters they try to force down you.

This man does not drink alcohol, ever. He is macro-biotic in the extreme and polishes his cutlery on his napkin, just in case it’s contaminated. He talks endlessly about the environment and wears plastic shoes. He cycles everywhere, refusing to drive or take any form of public transport, thus doing his bit for ‘the cause’. He’s 35 years old and still lives with his mother.

Yawn. I live by the adage: everything in moderation, including moderation. Next!

He decides to skip the food part of dinner entirely and opts for getting roaring drunk. He veers between morose and euphoric, but is appealing in a ‘save me, I think I’m drowning’ kind of way. What you mistook for bonhomie when you first met is actually desperation. Generous to a fault, he has the Dudley Moore character Arthur down to a tee. ‘Would you like another fish?’

He’s an alcoholic. No, you can’t save him, don’t even try.

He orders a beer, some wine, an adventurous starter, an indulgent main course and some pudding to share with you. Then perhaps he’ll order some more wine, coffee and a couple of brandies. He’s funny, charming and seems to really listen to what you have to say. Just as the coffee arrives he reaches across the table for your hand and tells you how beautiful you look tonight.

He’s lovely, interested and interesting. He’s in no hurry to bolt down dinner in a bid to seduce you tonight, he’s here to have a good time. You actually want this one to make a pass at you! (Yes, this really can happen, great dates do exist, you just gotta keep looking.)

I asked my date what she wanted to drink.

She said, ‘Oh, I guess I’ll have champagne.’

I said ‘Guess again.’

ANON

Traits to watch out for in a woman on a first date.

(Ladies, do you recognise yourselves?)

After several glasses of champagne, this little madam orders the most expensive dish on the menu before necking as much wine as she can drink and then finishing off with a pudding meant for two. She scoffs the lot, as well as all the after-dinner chocolates. Her only topic of conversation is herself and her pathological desire to acquire, by fair means or foul, anything from Gucci.

A greedy guts with definite gold-digging tendencies. Suggest you go Dutch and then run away.

She requests still, ambient, spring water and a starter of vegetable consommé followed by a main course of mixed salad – hold the croutons and absolutely no dressing. This fresh air feast will be followed by a protracted absence while she goes to the loo. She is very quiet all evening, in fact, she hardly says a word and doesn’t seem to be listening to you either. Don’t take it personally, it’s not you, she’s just exhausted!

She’s anorexic. Conversely, if when she comes back from the loo she orders two desserts, scoffs the lot and then disappears off to the loo again, she’s bulimic.

This little minx acts all girly and helpless and insists you order for her, you big strong man, you. She spends the whole of dinner gazing adoringly into your eyes and agrees with everything you say. Her pièce de résistance? Asking how many kids you’d like and how you feel about living in the country.

She’s desperate for a husband and 2.2 children and assuming that this is not forthcoming within the first two weeks of knowing you, has the potential to turn into a bunny boiler. I bet you anything she’s already trying on your surname for size … run!

Before she even reaches the table she’s downed a couple of Margaritas (no salt) amid lots of nervous chatter. She then has a couple of glasses of wine with a light but daring starter, followed by a main course that she seemed to really want but it now appears she’s not so keen; she’s pushing it around her plate rather than actually eating it.

She’s nervous and what’s more she really likes you, hence the rather un-cool initial chattering. As the evening progresses and she chills out you will be captivated by her intelligence, amusing conversation and feminine charms. Shame about losing her appetite, especially as once she’s home the first thing she will do is make a bacon sandwich.

There’s one more rule of thumb: if he covertly flirts with the waitress it’s a sure sign he’ll be unfaithful. Harsh, but fair. If she flirts with a waiter, she’s bored. But hey, don’t worry, in my experience that means she’ll be picking up the tab.

Assuming the date has gone well and we want to see him again, bringing the evening to a close can be a tricky business. How far should one go on a first date, especially if we really like the guy?

At the end of any date there is always that awkward ‘will he kiss me, won’t he kiss me?’ moment. Suddenly he does and when it’s a magical, waves crashing on the shore, full blown Hollywood-style smooch we really don’t want to bring the evening to an end as our hearts pound and we get more than a little hot under the collar. The question is, should we hold back or should we abandon ourselves to the moment and follow our more primal instincts and go with the flow? There is, of course, no right or wrong answer, we just have to do what we feel is right for us.

All this talk of should we, shouldn’t we, leads me to thinking about one-night stands: why we have them and if they really are all that enjoyable?