Looks count for as much in the food publishing industry as it does in the fashion world.

While no one is looking, I secretly peruse one of the tool kits on set – I see glue, plasticine, black marker, cotton swabs, several sizes of painter’s brushes, torches, scotch tape, eye-droppers, straws, safety pins, syringes, incense, palette knives, and blotting paper. It would be fair to assume that I’m describing a makeup artist’s toolbox or a first-aid kit, but this is the food styling kit. Where are the tongs, wooden spoon, and pots and pans?

Food photography has come a long way. Decades ago, before the birth of food porn and publications such as Saveur and Gourmet (may they rest in peace), we were lucky if we saw food photography beyond that found in magazines geared to the “happy housewife” stereotype of the 1950s. Food was always presented in the hotel-buffet style, as that was the height of food service during that period. With the proliferation of independent restaurants driving, competing, and innovating, times have changed, and so has our expectation of how our food should be presented and how it should taste.

Most of us can only dream of having a model's figure, but that’s not to say we don’t expect one when we open a magazine. The industry has conditioned us to want the best photography possible, presented in the best light, and on the most beautiful “model” possible. Whether this is a matter of conditioning or the result of a competitive publishing industry always trying to outdo itself, the effect is still the same. We want perfection.

The food publishing world has become one of the most demanding in terms of product presentation. It is not uncommon (though less frequent today) that the food presented in photographs is not even edible. Lard often stands in for ice cream, as it doesn't melt under the hot lights during a long day of shooting. Grill marks on a steak are often created with hot steel rods to ensure the perfect sear. Oil is often brushed onto “hot” food shots to give the impression of oozing juiciness while the food being shot is actually fridge-cold. That perfectly glistening condensation on the side of an ice-cold jug of lemonade? Fake. Shooting a hamburger always entails buying an entire skid of buns and selecting the very best one. Arguably the most coveted perfection comes when it is time to shoot the ever so precious “dollop” – you've seen it a million times and never thought twice about it. That wonderfully whipped, frothy dollop of cream gracing that pumpkin pie or steaming mug of hot chocolate was probably “dolloped” so many times the food stylist on duty won’t do another “dollop” shot for at least another month (unless of course the client dollops an extra wad of cash into their pocket).

The food styling world has an endless array of tricks, and new magic is being invented on a daily basis to match the whimsy of client demand. It’s no secret that advertising is a very challenging, competitive world, and food advertising is certainly no exception.

Food has to look good in order for us to pick it off the shelves. That product shot has to entice us out of our comfort zone to try to embark on another food adventure. Much the same way the cover of any given fashion monthly is touched and retouched by numerous people, so is the food we see in photographs.

On Everyday Exotic, it takes a team of 10 people more than three hours to shoot one “food beauty,” as they are so affectionately called. The team:

Claudia runs the set;

Justin cooks the food;

Miriam also cooks;

Ben takes the pictures and works on lighting;

Phil lights the food and background;

Steven approves every shot;

Gord makes everything look good that isn’t food;

So does Alex.

Toni keeps the budget in line;

Collectively, they try to keep me busy and feeling like I’m doing something.

Before entering this world of shooting food for the masses, I had heard about the madness but was not privy to it. Now that I too am part of this mad world, it is obvious and clear that each of the above roles is integral to making food look good enough to stop me on The Food Network while I’m flipping channels. At the end of the day, we all want our food to look like it does in the magazines.