People are dining out less. What’s the takeaway about how we eat in?

Our two big supermarket chains recently announced a growth in customers buying groceries to cook at home, which, they suggest, is at the expense of dining out. They’re probably right, given that disposable incomes can prove far too disposable faced with lychee martinis and bincho-grilled MBS 9+, 600-day, full-blood wagyu.

But here’s the thing. I’ve always had a higher regard for a restaurant experience that inspires me to go home and cook, and that would be a sad thing to lose. The shock and awe of unachievable fine dining is one thing, but if I’m walking out of a restaurant at the end of the night mentally planning to re-create the way the chef melted fresh mozzarella into spaghetti pomodoro, then I feel as if I’ve been given two meals for the price of one.

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It all started after dining out on Marco Pierre White’s legendary braised pig’s trotter “Pierre Koffmann” at London’s Harvey’s back in the early 1990s. I went home, invited 12 people to dinner, boned out a dozen pig’s trotters, stuffed them with a chicken, sweetbread and morel mushroom farce, poached them, and served them with a madeira sauce on a bed of pomme purée. Not only did I have one of my most memorable meals out, I had one of my most memorable meals in as well.

More recently, a totally moreish Turkish ezme salad at Josh Niland’s newly landed Petermen restaurant on Sydney’s North Shore set up a craving for more finely chopped red capsicum, tomato and herbs. So far, I’ve made it three times.

At Melbourne’s fire-stoked Filipino diner, Serai, I had a knock-out cabbage that was so gnarly and caramelised by the grill it was almost no longer cabbage. I’m still trying to work out how to do that, but don’t worry, I’ll get there. In the meantime, my partner came home and made a big batch of Filipino banana ketchup (yes, ketchup, but made with bananas), having been irrevocably moved by Serai’s version.

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There is a definite role that restaurants can play, not just in feeding us, but in introducing us to new ideas and techniques – even whole new cuisines.

Get excited, and you’ll end up searching town for a Banyuls vinegar, a digital meat thermometer, or a square, cast-iron Japanese tamagoyaki frying pan. Hmm, at this rate it might be cheaper just to go out for a bowl of pasta. Sorry, supermarkets.