Now you might think that the essence of cooking is, well, cooking. But you'd be boorish like I am.

According to the San Francisco Chronicle, the hottest table in the Bay Area is at a raw food joint: "The world of haute cuisine has never seen anything like Roxanne's. You won't find a steak, an egg, or even a stick of butter inside the gleaming walk-in coolers. No rice, beans, or bread, either. There isn't even a stove, because none of the food is heated much past 115 degrees, the point at which enzymes begin to die. Raw foodists believe the more live enzymes remain in the food we eat, the healthier we will be."

One hundred and fifteen degrees. That's a spring day in Texas. You really could cook an egg on the sidewalk. Which is what, perhaps, they do. If so, it's the only cooking they do, as the raw food movement is all about not cooking.

If I were Rodney Dangerfield, I might insert a little joke here, like, Hey, not cooking? I guess my wife has been into the raw food movement for years.

But the raw food fadlette (there are only a few chefs in the country doing it, making it certainly not a movement, hardly a trend, barely even a fad) is no laughing matter, especially when it comes to the bill you get at the end of your meal. Again, the Chronicle: "The French Laundry's Thomas Keller was so intrigued he made [Roxanne's chef Roxanne] Klein and nine guests a raw food dinner that, top wines included, cost more than $30,000, according to chefs in a position to know."

That's 30, with three more 0s. Three thousand big ones per person. And to think I howl when I go out to a Tex-Mex restaurant with my wife and kid and get a check, top beer included, that comes to 40 bucks. That's 40, with one 0. And that food is cooked, including the processed American cheese product, which, by the way, ain't cheap.