I'll never forget my first dinner party. Sweet 17 and trying horribly to impress my twentysomething boyfriend.

Driving to the shops I turned to my mother and simpered sheepishly: "But what are we going to do? I don't know how to cook and you don't either."

"Oh darling", said my mother, issuing a withering look, "you don't cook it yourself! You buy it all from the delicatessen and then pretend you made it." "But what if someone asks how it's cooked?" "You look mysterious and say, 'aah, that would be telling', and offer them more wine". We bought, we transferred from tin foil to china, I served. It was the best dinner party I've ever thrown.

This Valentines I'm opting out of the battery farm restaurant scene and checking in with Turtle Soup. They recreate anything from any restaurant menu - mine'll be the Fat Duck - and provide a maitre d' to serve it all, who magically disappears once the supper's over.