Personally, I've never had sardine on toast sorbet. But if Heston Blumenthal offered it to me I'd put it in my mouth faster than you can say “The Fat Duck”.

Later this month the greatest living British chef brings out his magnum opus, The Big Fat Duck Cookbook, an encyclopedia of the recipes and cooking methods at the restaurant he runs in Bray, near Maidenhead. Mr Blumenthal is an exponent of what is called “molecular gastronomy”, in which the arts of cooking and, above all, tasting are taken back to first principles. The result is dishes such as his most famous creations, snail porridge and bacon and egg ice-cream - and the aforementioned sorbet.

The book has not even been published yet, but already the responses are yawningly predictable. One writer yesterday described her attempt to make the sorbet. It was, she informed us, “rancid smelling”. The result was “putrid”.

That reaction, and the many other similar gasps of “yuck” that Mr Blumenthal's food has long prompted - never by people who have actually eaten it - says all that one needs to know about our nation's attitude to food. It presumably never occurred to the writer that her inability to reproduce a dish created and cooked by one of the greatest chefs in history is hardly a surprise.

The idea that food can be an art form in its own right, and that only great artists are capable of producing great art, is anathema to the British psyche. The tasting menu at The Fat Duck is £125. I consider that to be something close to a bargain. To be able to experience such an astounding product of the best in human imagination and skill is a privilege that comes cheap at £125.

On one level, Jamie Oliver's TV series, Ministry of Food, in which he tries to teach families in Rotherham how to prepare food, is as far removed from The Big Fat Duck Cookbook as can be. But the sneering reaction to them both shows how similar they really are. “How patronising!” has come the cry. Who is Jamie Oliver to tell people how to eat? If they want to eat crisps for breakfast, lunch and dinner, why shouldn't they?

To too many people, food is just a refueling agent. And it is the height of ponciness to dress it up as anything more. Whether that is Heston Blumenthal's £125-a-head molecular gastronomy or Jamie Oliver's freshly prepared salads, his pasta sauces or his roast chicken. It's all just middle-class ponce.

But there's nothing patronising about Jamie Oliver's passion to show how anyone has the ability to eat well, and how basic skills that anyone can master are the key to a world of food beauty. And if an appreciation of Heston Blumenthal's creations is poncy, how about Michelangelo or Mozart?

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