Roast Beef and Frogs' Legs

France has forever been viewed as the world's centre of gastronomy. Boasting more Michelin-starred restaurants than anywhere else in the world, this is the country that wrote the rulebook for the food we admire today, and it is the country to which any ambitious chef comes to cut his culinary teeth. It is a nation full of gourmands, self-appointed experts on everything from fine wine and artisan cheeses to the perfect baguette. Everyone, it seems, has an opinion; indeed, go to any market, epicerie, boulangerie or boucherie and you willl soon find yourself caught up in an often-heated food-related debate. In short, the French take their food seriously.

What they do not take seriously, however, is our food. In fact, it is openly derided as being utterly inferior to its counterpart across the channel. Among the reasons for this is - as is often the case - a great lack of understanding, as to what British food actually is. Equally to blame, though, is a rather narrow-minded attachment to old stereotypes; disparaging quips about how all Britain has to offer is dry roast beef and Mother's Pride.

However, lift the cloche and you'll soon discover the full extent of the misconception. Investigate a bit, and it soon becomes apparent that British cooking is fast producing some of the most diverse, innovative and rapidly developing food in the world. And the British public has just as quickly become completely obsessed by it all. Not only do we view TV cooks and food writers as glittering celebrities and national treasures, who get prime-time slots every night of the week, but also we suddenly really care about what we are eating. Everywhere we care to turn our trolley we are confronted by issues of provenance, sustainability, food-miles, the ecosystem. We demand organic, free-range, Fairtrade.

France may have old Proust with his dry madeleine, but we have the voluptuous, smokin' hot Nigella who gazes all come-hither into our eyes whilst licking a spoon; the adorably pukka Jamie who we all watched grow up, Hugh who campaigns for the humble chicken, and Gordon F***ing Ramsey.

France may well be a nation sated on sauces, satisfied on soup and stuffed on shellfish. But Britain is the birthplace of the foodie, and we are all still very, very hungry.