Food shares one commonality with art.
It is often very difficult to differentiate, by sight and without taste, so-called top-notch food from barrel-bottom scrapings; the work of a Michelin Star Chef from ice-cream made out of baked beans (unless it’s 3 Michelin Star Heston Blumenthal; bless him he tries so hard to be wacky)
This is especially so at the “avant garde” end of the spectrum. Some people may well wonder at “Garlic Bread”, but finding squid in a pie would test the patience of most pie eaters.
Art has piss-take spoof awards like the Turnip prize (as a direct reaction to the Turner Prize) to highlight the pomposity of their niche.
Can we soon expect such awards for food?

Re. When one hears someone has cooking stars or received such-and-such an award, my immediate reaction isn’t “Wow” but “Who are these people giving awards away to people like you, and how many awards are there?”. Unless it’s Sir David Attenborough.

The Old Astronomer to His Pupil

Reach me down my Tycho Brahe, I would know him when we meet,
When I share my later science, sitting humbly at his feet;
He may know the law of all things, yet be ignorant of how
We are working to completion, working on from then to now.

Pray remember that I leave you all my theory complete,
Lacking only certain data for your adding, as is meet,
And remember men will scorn it, ’tis original and true,
And the obloquy of newness may fall bitterly on you.

But, my pupil, as my pupil you have learned the worth of scorn,
You have laughed with me at pity, we have joyed to be forlorn,
What for us are all distractions of men’s fellowship and smiles;
What for us the Goddess Pleasure with her meretricious smiles!

You may tell that German College that their honor comes too late,
But they must not waste repentance on the grizzly savant’s fate.
Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

Sarah Williams