What’s that? You want to kick things up a notch in the romance department for Valentine’s Day? You want to make this year a little fiery so as to melt the very heart of your quelqu’un de spécial? I see. Do not worry your little heads, mes petits choux. I know just what you need.

Might I suggest…FONDUE?

Picture this: A flame bursts to life in front of you. A server places a pot atop it and drizzles oil inside, which sizzles and kicks when it hits the hot metal. Over this he pours a broth that heats up slowly as you watch. And you wanna know what else is heating up?

Small bits of beef. Happy little shrimps. Dry-rub pork. Chunks of herbed chicken breast. And that’s just the entrees. Try this on for size, love birds: baby carrots, button mushrooms, and chopped asparagus bob merrily in the savory broth that only becomes more toothsome the more you add to it. You don’t even notice what you’re putting in there; you’re so arrested by that soft look in your date’s eyes. You might have tossed your shoe in there—how would you know? The mere presence of your sweet babboo is so intoxicating you’re liable to throw your own head into the pot.

After a moment, you both dip your long stabbing forks into the pot to fish around for the stewed morsels. Your hands touch. Sparks fly. And not just because your sleeve got a little too close to the flame.

"What else do you think we could fondue?” your date asks.

“Bread,” you say. “Apples. Very small rocks.”

“Cider!” they suggest.

“Gravy.”

“Cherries.”

“Mud.”

“Churches.”

“Lead.”

“A duck!” your server says as he sweeps past your table.

You both gasp. He’s right.

Just when you start to feel as though you might enjoy a little variety, the server returns with mounds of cheese in yet another pot. He pours some wine in there as well to give it a little punch. You take your date’s hand across the table.

“Please be careful,” your server says. “The flame is very hot here.”

You waggle your eyebrows seductively. “Oh, yes. We know.”

The cheese sends your taste buds into raptures of gooiest delight. You dip in small hunks of bread and pull out a three-foot-long trail of Gruyère. It’s like eating taffy with a toothpick. In fact, it’s so messy that your date gets a long cheese thread stuck on the corner of their mouth. You smile and reach across the table to wipe it away with your thumb.

Except now it’s stuck to your thumb, and they’re still watching you. What are you supposed to do with this stringy bit of cheese? Should you eat it? Is it gross to eat something that was on someone else’s face? Should you flick it across the room, all devil-may-care? What if it lands in that lady’s bouffant over there? Should you keep it or throw it away? You don’t want to offend your date, but you also don’t want them to think you’re too into their face cheese, like you’re going to make a shrine out of it or something. You laugh it off and wave your thumb around gaily. “This is going in my scrapbook!” you say. You regret this instantly.

“More wine?” you say.

The server returns. Were you aware that the chocolate fondue here is endless?

“Just like my love for you,” you tell your date. The server clears his throat to remind you that he’s still standing right there, but it’s cool. He gets it. You tell him you were not aware of the endless chocolate, but you will absolutely take him up on that offer.

“This place is about to lose a lot of money,” your date says with a wink.

“Are we going to rob them?” you say, before realizing that they meant they plan to eat so much chocolate that the profit margins will be too narrow to be economically viable. You’re embarrassed by your mistake, but they don’t make fun of you. That’s how you know…this is meant to last.

When the fondue arrives, you take turn feeding each other. It’s decadent. Sensual. A little clumsy, but overall an indulgent, romantic treat. You tease them by holding a strawberry out for them to bite, then pulling it away playfully before they can reach it. They laugh. You laugh. They grasp your hand firmly and hold the fork steady as they take a bite. No more messing around. They pick up the pot of molten chocolate and begin to drink from it. They raise a hand to get your server’s attention.

“Might as well bring a few more of these out at once,” they say. “We’re gonna go through ‘em pretty quick. And no need to bother with the pound cake squares and marshmallows. They’ll only slow me down.” They weren’t kidding about bankrupting this place. You have never loved someone so much.

After the fourth pot, you notice they have chocolate on their chin—but you’re not about to fall for that again. You ignore it. Or, you try to, anyway. Unsuccessfully. The more you look at it, the more it starts to look like an off-center soul patch. What kind of haphazard razor work would result in that? you wonder. Just when you think you can’t take it any longer and you’ll have to tell them, they pick up a napkin and wipe the chocolate away. You sigh in relief, but realize that you haven’t been listening to anything they’ve been saying for the past five minutes.

“More wine?” you say.

When the meal is over, your date leans across the table. “What should we fon-do now?” they ask. You laugh. They laugh. Your server laughs. L’amour est dans l’air.

You order three more pots of chocolate to go and take off into the starry night—which is where I leave you, dear ones. Good luck with these extra special flirting tips, and I wish you all a very sweet Valentine’s Day, amoureux.