In other words, combine an epicure's appreciation of skillful cooking along with a glutton's bottomless-pit approach to food. Among a certain slice of the food-possessed, to suggest that indulgence might put one’s health in peril is to invite ridicule.
Another vital requisite for being a foodie is deep pockets. When your kitchen reaches a plateau of culinary exploration, you should have the ability to dig deep into your monthly take-home, add novelty, shake up things and bring back the fun by heading off to your favourite eatery.
Last, but not the least, you should be able to pontificate about food as much as ( if not more than!) eating it. You should be able to use suggestive adjectives such as succulent, mouth-watering, tantalizing, tender, juicy, and melt-in-your-mouth. This will tell those around you that you define yourself by what you eat and where you eat it. The risk you run is that, on meeting another foodie, the conversation may turn into a sort of "mine is bigger than yours" affair. Which is all good if, pardon the bad pun, you are dishing it out, but not if you are on the receiving end. Those around you may think you're a pompous ass for discussing the provenance of the peas or the genesis of cottage cheese! I remember a programme where the svelte Padma Lakshmi interviewed a grizzly Hyderabadi chef. She asked him about the secret to his fabled biryani. The old man said something revelatory: "I don't talk about it," he said. "It's just what I make."
I started this post with the intention of discussing the foodie culture of Shimla. In a nutshell, I'll say I am yet to find any in my beloved adoptive home-town. So, I now rest my case with a plate of the ubiquitous daal makhani and mutter pulao!