Romance is in the air and as our fancies turn to thoughts of love, I am reminded of that fateful evening when I first set eyes on Armand. Had he not called to me across the crowded pavements of the Champs Elysée, I might never have noticed him standing in the doorway of the Café de Paris; a slim, dark figure with a Gauloise held between pearl white teeth and eyes that pierced as deep as Cupid's arrow.

"Je voudrais faire l'amour avec vous," he shouted. I would like to make friends with you. "J'ai faim pour votre cuisses." I am hungry for your cooking.

How could I, a young English cookery student alone in Paris, ignore such a plea? Taking him by the hand, I led him to my dear little flat above the Gare du Nord and proceeded to put into practice all the skills I had learnt during my first week at the Cordon Bleu school. To the strains of Edith Piaf wafting up from the station tannoy, I cooked Doigts des Poissons et Frites as I had never cooked them before, and I will always remember the soft touch of Armand's hand on my thigh as he savoured each tender morsel and told me how much he was looking forward to le dessert.

The following morning he was gone; slipped out of my life as mysteriously as he had entered it. Awaking alone in the grey light of a Paris dawn, I wondered if I had merely dreamt those soft endearments, that warm breath on my neck, those strong, enfolding arms.

But no. There on the bedside table lay proof positive that my Armand was a man of substance; propped against the alarm clock were two crisp 100 franc notes that he must have accidentally left behind. Surely he would return for them.

I never saw Armand again but the memory of that night remains as clear and sparkling as the waters of the Seine. Ah non, je ne regrette rien.

If you are planning a meal for the man in your life, cook your way to his heart with the dish that I made for Armand.

Doigts des Poissons avec Frites
You will need:
1 packet economy fishfingers
1 bag oven chips
Half a pint of virgin olive oil
6 garlic cloves
A bottle of Sauce des Tomates
Champagne
Edith Piaf on tape or CD

Method
Preheat the kitchen to very warm and undo the top three buttons of your blouse. Using the half pint of olive oil, lightly grease a large frying pan and place on an electric element. As soon as the foam subsides, ease the fishfingers out of their packet, rub them gently all over with the cloves of garlic and slide them slowly into the waiting oil. Dab a little Miss Dior on a pulse point and transfer your woolly tights to the kitchen floor.

Rip open the bag of chips, spread them on a baking tray and thrust them into the oven to brown. Check the fish fingers by poking softly with a spatula until the juices run clear then tease them over onto their backs and turn up the heat.

Spread a clean white cloth over the kitchen table, pop Edith Piaf into your sound system, polish the silver-ware, fill a grinder with fresh black peppercorns, light a pair of candles and turn the lights down low. Fanning yourself with tea cloth, open the oven door and whip out the chips; they should be deliciously firm and brown by now. Lay on a bed of tomato sauce and serve immediately with the fishfingers and lashings of Champagne.