The Alternative Foodie Gift Guide

'Foodie' has become a dirty word, lumped in with gourmand and gastronome as a pejorative term for someone who is essentially hard to please in all matters of the tastebuds. (Though don't let its jocular sound fool you; snobbery is at work here.) So: what do you buy this finicky foodie of yours for Christmas?

Above all, make sure it's as recherché as possible. You know the thing: artisanal super-small-batch mezcal made by one lone Mexican in the arse-end of Oaxaca; the Dalai Lama's personal stash of pink Himalayan salt; the mummified remains of Elvis' last supper (cookies and ice cream, in case you were wondering). 

If eBay's all sold out of those, we've got a few other suggestions:

Need a present that costs more than the average house price in the Northwest? HolidaysPlease and VeryFirstTo teamed up earlier in the year to offer one lucky (read: stupid rich) person the opportunity to visit all 109 three-Michelin-starred restaurants in one six-month long foodie pilgrimage. It'll set you back a cool £182,000 (per couple), not factoring in half a year's lost salary, but we're guessing money's not really an issue at this point. Assuage your guilt at even considering such an extravagant gift with the knowledge that £1500 of it will go to The Prince's Trust. www.veryfirstto.com/experiences

Another option is to sort the foodie wheat from the chaff by gifting some (edible) insects. You’ve seen them in books or maybe on the TV; they occasionally invade your home and interrupt you for no apparent reason. Now you can make someone eat them. If the recipient of your 'I’m a Celebrity' Bush Tucker Trial-style bag of mixed bugs (eBay, £4.99) turns their nose up, explain that nothing confirms you as a proper foodie like eating creepy crawlies. And that they're saving the planet by eating new sources of protein. 

Okay. Okay. Enough with the jokes already. How about something that might actually please these culinary connoisseurs? Tell them to stop buying cookbooks. Well, sort of. Free them from the tyranny of recipes by getting them Ratio: The Simple Codes Behind the Craft of Everyday Cooking, by Michael Ruhlman (RRP £9.99). The premise is straightforward enough: instead of sticking to strict recipes, you learn ratios of ingredients, e.g. one part sugar/two parts fat/three parts flour for a basic cookie dough. According to Ruhlman: 'When you are dependent on recipes, you are a factory worker on an assembly line.' Did you hear that, Heston? Mind you, if your foodie is fond of weighing spices for his ‘perfect chilli’ to two decimal places, then this book might be so heretical that it’s chucked on the metaphorical log fire.

If that idea falls on deaf ears, you could get them a virtual cookery class of the sort that flies in the face of Ruhlman’s advice. The website ChefSteps.com was set up by some of the team behind culinary bible Modernist Cuisine, including Chris Young, the founding chef of Heston Blumenthal’s Experimental Kitchen at the Fat Duck. They offer lessons on diverse techniques, from knife sharpening to sous vide, but only one is currently paid for – the macarons class at $39 (£24.50) – so don’t just email your foodie a link to the site, or you risk looking like a cheapskate. More content is promised.   

If you’re really stuck but don’t want to stoop to the fallback present of a selection box, you could take inspiration from the predicted food trends of 2014. Apparently, quinoa will no longer be hip, eggs will make a comeback, and seaweed won’t be reserved for sushi. So future-proof your offering and wrap up a bag of duck eggs, wakame, and freekeh. Or why not buy the foodie in question shares in anaerobic digesters? Because managing food waste is going to be big on the agenda – and that’s why we named this the alternative foodie gift guide. You’re welcome.