But will it make you go blind?

Why is it that we find food so compelling as entertainment? Foodie magazines are flying off the shelves, beautifully designed high-end cookbooks sell by the truckload, and now a local version of “Master Chef” has just finished its first run here, attracting huge television audiences five nights a week. What’s going on?

The pleasures of staring at images and descriptions of gorgeous food you have no intention of preparing (or the ability or opportunity to do so in many cases) are known to many of us. The term “Gastroporn” was coined to describe all those glossy magazines and books filled not with airbrushed spread-eagled nubiles, but with superbly constructed works of culinary beauty we could only think to replicate in our imaginations and without the constraints of budget and family-driven timetables.

Why do we buy them? For my money, it’s the same thing as picking up the odd issue of “Country Life” to drool over perfect cottages or stately Grade II listed mansions with walled gardens and trout streams. There’s pleasure simply in knowing they exist, and just occasionally, you can translate a grand idea into something of your own that’s also wonderful, yet achievable on a more practical scale.

For every 3-Michelin-star-worthy dish, for every lovingly-built tower of truffle-infused genius, for every faultlessly turned baby vegetable and every perfect mousse, coulis or jus, there’s that little germ of knowledge, finesse or inspiration that makes the brave transition from haute cuisine to the family dining table.

Food is exciting, sensual and pleasurable. It’s easy and fun to experiment with, and trying new things often brings wonderful results. For most of us, it’s also less complicated and safer to share with more people than sex.

Gastroporn rules! Now where did I leave my glasses?