Beefcake On The Menu

Katherine MacAlister loses her appetite over a delicious dinner at La Fontana in Wantage with Here Come The Boys!

AND what would you like to order madam?” the waitress asked. “Beefcake,” I gasped, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Blushing, I then managed “actually the Spaghetti al Boscaiolo looks good,” before turning back to the real beefcake on my mind – Here Come The Boys!

And there they all were, all 15 of them, sitting right next to me, complete with rippled torsos, biceps that made you wince, teeth that blinded you, chiselled jaws that could knock you out and tans that had you running for the shade.

But at least they were clothed, temporarily, while I ate my supper, because there really is only so much one woman can take, in terms of self-control.

For those of you still in the dark, Here Come The Boys! is a new version of The Chippendales, and I was having dinner with all 15, plus Cris Judd, J-Lo’s ex, who is their choreographer.

So far so good. But conversation too? Forget it. I would have been happier to be a fly-on-the-wall in La Fontana and just watch from afar, slowly winding spaghetti around my fork from the other side of the room while I stared mistily over at the gang, transfixed by so much good-looking testosterone fuelled eye-candy.

A feast for the eyes, literally.

But sadly I was expected to talk to them instead and having watched them on This Morning and Richard & Judy found myself uncharacteristicaly tongue-tied. I mean how much do you know about the carb/protein ratio of pasta or how big a 14.5 inch bicep really is, or how to train each fibre in your chest one by one?

Hmm, me neither.

And how easy is it to eat a huge bowl of fantastic home-made pasta, in a rich olive, parsley, garlic and tomato sauce made by Papa Merola and served by his daughter Anna, when all around me Here Come The Boys! consumed poached chicken with steamed vegetables, accompanied by sparkling mineral water?

My partner-in-crime for the night tucked into a delicious looking steak, the house special Filetto di bue alla Rossini, which arrived on a huge plate piled high with potatoes, bacon, mushroom, onion, red wine and brandy sauce and topped with home-made pate and mozzarella cheese.

The boys just stared at it in amazement as she slowly and methodically plied her way through it, relishing every mouthful.

“That was delicious,” she said licking her lips while the gang went deathly quiet at the thought of so much protein being ingested in one go.

“The thing I loved most about LA,” Lord Robert Jonathan Walters said, “is that when you eat out, each dish has the protein and carb content listed.”

‘God, it’s good to be English,’ I thought as I spooned in another mouthful of spaghetti.

I nearly ordered pudding, just for the hell of it, but the conversation had moved on to the benefits of tofu and beans for vegetarians by then, so I passed on the flambeed strawberry and raspberry pancakes and the creme brulee.

And then dinner was over, because the gym was still open apparently, and there were more pecs to tone and Lord Rob had to work on his tan.

Tomorrow’s work-outs were being discussed as we tiptoed away into the car park, collapsing outside the front door as we cried with laughter.

But the brilliant thing about the whole evening is that you can have a go too.

Because Here Come The Boys! weren’t just visiting for the night. They are staying at La Fontana and eating there every night for a month. So if you fancy some of your own beefcake watching, feel free. Just book in and sample the £35 HCTB menu.

It’s a sweet place, gloriously old-fashioned, although the rooms have just been updated, and obviously a much-loved family run business. Personally, I might wait until everyone else has had a turn with The Boys before I return. There’s only so much beefcake I can manage, but there’s a lot more pasta to be had.