“I’m with a woman who is borderline Ms Perfect but she couldn’t care less about food. She’d be happy to have dal-chawal every day, all week. Sure she eats the risottos and paellas I make but I can tell she doesn’t really ‘get’ why I bother. Should I be worried about the shelf-life of our relationship?” — Conflicted Foodie, Mumbai.

Now, there’s a letter no agony aunt could have met until a few years ago. But as dinner parties turn into food orgies and neighbours into (home) bakers by the dozens, not knowing who a locavore is (no, not a steam engine), can’t be an option. Here’s a short cheat-sheet to foodie glibness:

Locavore

When farmer’s markets meant just that — a local bazaar where dhania was free and un-clingwrapped — you were a locavore; consumer of things grown and produced locally. You can still pretend to be one — just don’t tell them you order hapoos online.

Mouthfeel

It may make your skin crawl, but it works. (This pudding has a wonderful texture and mouthfeel. Or the Merlot has a generous mouthfeel.) Add toothsome, unctuous and ambrosial to the list and you could host a TV show.

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