Lousie Flanagan and Adam Kirwan in the class taught by Jonathan Barthelmess. On this particular night Jonathan Barthelmess, owner and head chef at Sydney's The Apollo, is taking the three-hour class. It's a slick operation. Walk past the sandstone wall sculpture by artist Michael Purdy and into the auditorium lined with "tiles" made from the skins of Atlantic salmon shipped from Iceland and there's Barthelmess shuffling pans over gas burners beneath three big screens tracking his every move. He teaches at the school about twice a year ("But I still get nervous") and tonight he's weaving his magic on raw ocean trout with grilled tomato bread, gnocchi with vongole and broccoli and fennel salad. He makes it look so easy, but with the demonstration over it's our turn to have a go as we move next door into the main kitchen. Here we find 10 fully equipped work benches, along with blackboard graffiti by artist Joy Godley, oak panelling, a Madagascan limestone bench and a glass wall overlooking the fish auction floor. "I was nervous that he'd be too complicated, but it was a level I could manage," Lisa Hall says as she and her friend Kim Harrison divvy up the chores. I'm going to do the ocean trout with mayonnaise at my next dinner; it was so simple ... This is a nice way to interact with other people, a fun thing to do. The friends are regulars at The Apollo, in Macleay Street, Potts Point, and were keen to see Barthelmess in action. I picked up some good cooking tips, such as how to roll the trout like carpaccio. That will stay with me," Harrison says. Socially, it was a nice way to switch off and mix and chat with people who we wouldn't normally meet. Louise Flanagan's parents shouted her and fiance Adam Kirwan the course as a Christmas present. Apart from proudly mastering the gnocchi, Kirwan says, "One of the good outcomes was meeting another couple with a similar background to ours. We're going to dinner together at The Apollo next week. We expected it to be fun and it was. While Roberta Muir, manager of the school since 1997, is keen for guests to mix, she stops short of playing matchmaker. Several people have suggested a singles' night but she says she's not a dating service. Checking people's bona fides would be a nightmare. The closest thing is Foodie Friends Friday ($75pp), held once a month for like-minded people who love to cook, eat and socialise. And that's what happens after Barthelmess - whose grandfather was a chef and the original owner of Prunier (now Chiswick) in Woollahra, in Sydney's inner-eastern suburbs - has overseen the class's efforts at producing his Greek/Mediterranean menu. The mess cleaned up with the help of staff, everyone toddles into the dining room to eat the results from Villeroy & Boch fine china under six fishnet chandeliers and a white fish mobile by Jon Voss. Barthelmess commiserates with Harrison and Hall, who are despondent over their rock-hard gnocchi. "It needs to be half, no, one third, that size," he says gently. MasterChef this ain't. The school attracts more than 13,000 foodies a year from around Australia and overseas, with 30 per cent repeat business. Ages range from about 25 to 60 and about 60 per cent are women; the men tend to focus on sushi, BBQ and paella nights. There's the Boys Only Barbecue class - next one June 9 - and the Fabulous Girls' Day Out on June 23. There are special dinners for a maximum 20 serious food-lovers ($245pp) hosted by a top chef (Christine Manfield on June 28) and a wine expert at one long table; and the dining room is also used for corporate bonding sessions, seminars, cocktail parties and hen and stag nights. "We've just done a private cooking class post-wedding-rehearsal for both families who hadn't met," Muir says. And as for the instructors? "It's a really good way for me to connect with people," says Barthelmess, who teaches the course on a rare night off. It makes them feel they have a relationship with the restaurant - they would have seen the course on our Facebook - and potentially it means new customers.