Photographer: Yarek Vetrov

ONE of the most pleasurable experiences in life is eating: the true enjoyment is more than just nourishing your body; it is savoring food that is so sublime that it embraces the soul and provides a sensuous delight. Reading about foods that promise this is my ultimate escape to a world of fantasy. Leafing through recipe books featuring fabulous recipes, some accompanied by photos or illustrations of mouthwatering foods, I can almost taste them or even pretend that I will prepare some of them one day. It is an illusion that inspires me to forget calories, diets and other such killjoys.

The pleasures of the table didn't begin with us. According to the recipe book I have on early Roman cooking, the Roman feasts were gargantuan and totally mind boggling, requiring a very sturdy digestive system. The variety of dishes was infinite. A sample menu began with seven kinds of hors d'oeuvres, just a prelude to the main courses which were the piece de resistance. From roast beef and kidneys with honey cakes  through to fish, lobster, assorted fowls, hare and venison prepared a dozen different ways. All liberally seasoned with exotic spices from the east which the Roman traders brought back home: ginger, cloves, cinnamon, pepper and nutmeg. Desserts included pastries stuffed with dates and nuts, oysters, grapes and pomegranates, all downed with plenty of drink. After a meal like that the diners' arteries must have been crying for mercy. No wonder they reclined while eating - they probably were unable to sit up. Hail Caesar!

And you thought Israeli weddings were bountiful.

The Elizabethans weren't slouches either when it came to stuffing themselves. There are numerous books on their eating habits, including recipes for anyone too foolhardy to ignore them. They gorged themselves on meals which lasted for hours, with venison, beef, chickens, geese, hares and the whole range of whatever delicacies were available at the time. Not for the faint-hearted as the participants ate and ate and drank and drank until they passed out. Or passed on.

I then usually turn to one of my favorites: the Alcoholic Cookbook. Each recipe features foods doused in drink, which gives the cook the right to have the sherry bottle right next to the stove. A sip here and there while cooking makes for a very happy cook. One can get soused along with the sauce. Just reading the dessert page is enough to make one tipsy. A rum and chocolate flan that's heavy on the chocolate, generous with the rum, liberal with the cream and topped with ice cream. Glorious! Or, you can get potted along with the potted veal which included Grand Marnier or Cointreau and plenty of cream. Definitely not for the kosher keepers among us. But when fantasizing why not do it in Technicolor?

The French cookbooks are the most tantalizing with recipes of classic French cuisine. Reading the recipes makes one very ravenous indeed. (At this point I raid the fridge to discover nothing more enticing than an apple.)

There's a marvelous French book about the impressionists of the 19th century and how their paintings reflected their favorite foods. Descriptions of the aromatic onion soup which they indulged in at the legendary market, Les Halles, are mouthwatering. The steaming bowls of rich browned onions simmering in a fragrant broth and topped with slices of garlic bread and dusted with cheese, seem like pure heaven in every spoonful.

Each page features paintings by Manet, Degas, Monet, Gauguin, Toulouse-Lautrec and Cezanne  along with their favorite recipes, some of which they prepared themselves.

"Le Dejeuner sur l'Herbe," one of Manet's best-known paintings of a provocative picnic party, provided inspiration for the picnic menu that is as much of a treat to read as is viewing the painting itself. Is there one among us who wouldn't love to go on a picnic where you indulged in an asparagus omelette, stuffed tomatoes, along with roast quail and grapes followed by a scrumptious assortment of cheeses and cherry tart. The wine flowed freely which may account for the ladies in the painting being in a state of undress, while the gentlemen remained fully clothed - at least in the painting.

Toulouse-Lautrec loved to cook and entertain his guests with his specialties. A sample menu ranged from leeks in red wine, to green chicken (chicken wrapped round by green veggies), lobster, salads, cheeses, pastries and lots of wine. And perhaps Henri himself serving and commenting on each dish. "Bon Appetit".

 Getting down to paradise on earth, in another French cookbook, is a photograph of brilliant colors of bouillabaisse, tomatoes, cooked in a broth of fragrant spices and herbs. The picture evokes Marseille, the seaport where this delectable dish was born. In my imagination, I am tasting this gorgeous dish and watching the sailors in their striped jerseys and black berets swaggering in time to the haunting refrains of the music emanating from the many cafes along the port. Street urchins are scampering about, imitating the suggestive walk of the girls who are being ogled by the sailors. Bouillabaisse can do that to you!

While perusing my Irish cookbook I am reminded of the time I spent travelling along the winding roads through the magical green of the countryside. At one of the B&Bs I stayed at, the owner gave me a recipe for her Irish Soda Bread. My cookbook shows this traditional loaf (mine never came out that way) studded with raisins and I can still recall the heavenly scent of her fabulous bread. Her recipe for Irish stew is not at all like the one in the cookbook. Her instructions were: "a bit of gin in the stew, and a bit in you and keep going 'til the bottle in empty and both you and the dish are stewed." Hey, I'll drink to that.

When it comes to cooking, the Italians do it with passion. The photographs in Italian cookbooks are so sensuous, the colors so vibrant, that one can almost inhale the pungent aroma of the herbs and garlic, taste the richness of the tomatoes and feel the heat of the sauces simmering on the fire. As I read the recipes I can imagine the hills of Tuscany beyond and visualize my garden from which I have plucked the oregano, rosemary and basil for the Mediterranean dinner I am preparing for a few close friends.

The rosy plum tomatoes, dusted with oregano and basil, complemented by anchovies and slices of pepperoni, all beautifully arranged on a flaky crust and about to burst right off the page. Recipes for lamb roasted with rosemary, garlic and herbs and osso buco with fennel are so stunningly seductive, one can almost taste the Italian sun and the sea while reading them. The best I can do while indulging my imagination is sip a lovely chianti.

Back to the realm of reality, in the age of technology, it is only fitting that I go to the internet and log onto the Wacky Cook's weekly column. I have downloaded all of the recipes so that I can read them at my leisure. They are fun to read and most important, she makes it all seem so easy, I can suspend fantasy and actually cook them. The Wacky Cook always suggests you have a drink while you prepare one of her endless ideas for the ubiquitous chicken, especially the one done with pomegranates, which is so tantalizing I want to eat it right off the page. Her dessert recipes for brownies, rich chocolate and creamy and luscious cheese cake tempt me to head for the kitchen immediately so I can actually taste them.

It is said that travel broadens one; I am certain that the same broadening holds true for the many delicacies in my collection of cookbooks. But what bliss while I am in the midst of this sinful indulgence where the pleasure is real and the resulting calories are only imaginary.