German Gymnasium, London: A sexy space in King's Cross, but it's not what you think

So what does it take to make your restaurant into a broiling cauldron of sensuality?

No sportswear, please: the bar at the German Gymnasium

Last Thursday evening, I went for dinner in King's Cross. Not long ago, that part of north London was an unloved and unlovely spot. Its streets were populated by people attempting to leave it on trains, or visiting sex workers who gathered near the concourse.

Nowadays, the whole area seems to be one big restaurant. There are dining rooms all around: you can eat Iranian-cum-Indian food at Dishoom, Kiwi stuff at Caravan or fusion at Bill Granger. And, as of last week, you can also go to a place called the German Gymnasium.

When I first heard the name I imagined a high-concept affair featuring vaulting horses as tables and climbing ropes as decoration (if that sounds fanciful, Google the words “Tanner and Co” and be surprised). Although the restaurant occupies a mid-Victorian building that was built for the German Gymnastics Society in 1865, all the apparatus associated with exertions beyond lifting a wine glass have been removed.

The menu is broadly Mittel-European – with bratwurst, schnitzel and tafelspritz putting in an appearance – alongside lobster salad, steak tartare and a tasty half a Creedy Carver duck. Its wine list takes you on a tour of the vineyards of the Danube and far beyond. Neither the food nor the wine blew my mind, although it was decent. And yet when I was leaving, I felt the sort of upward bounce you get when you have been somewhere good. It took me a while to figure out – but the German Gymnasium, despite its name, is sexy: a rare thing in the restaurant trade. Because lots of chef-owned restaurants want to stretch for creative greatness, strain at the boundaries of what can be done with a bit of beef and vegetable, cutting-edge and sexy seldom go hand in hand. So what does it take to make your restaurant into a broiling cauldron of sensuality?

Well, first you have to nail the food. The menu must feature things that people are familiar with – nothing kills the vibe like having to ask what exactly a “spring allium” is – and absolutely nothing that requires the use of your fingers or for you to slurp (see, ramen).

The room itself ought to be dramatic, like a stage set on which to play out your dialogue of love and slanderous gossip. To do that, people have to feel like they are in an intimate, private space within a larger public one. At the German Gymnasium this means lighting that creates the impression that you and your table are in a golden-hued bubble, looking out on the room around.

Which leads us to the second part of the equation and the most important thing in creating an atmosphere in a restaurant – you have to give us people to look at. In the first instance, that means staff: dress 'em smart and send 'em out. And in the second instance, it means getting the customers in. This type of restaurant is only as good as its punters: so you put the pretty or famous ones in prominent seats. Mix this all together and shake well with several strong cocktails and you have the recipe for something interesting.