All the times our stomachs were seduced by TV shows and movies

In a genius bit of marketing, TV show The Bear last week somehow got Illinois to recognise its Italian beef sandwich as the official state sambo.

One of the show’s cast members, Chicago native Corey Hendrix, was even on hand to accept the honour on the series’ behalf.

But more than just a promotional tie-in for the show’s upcoming and final season, the designation is also meant to recognise Chicago’s culinary scene, built on the immigrants who have flocked to the city, bringing with them the tastes, textures and traditions of their homeland.

The Bear’s main character, Carmy Berzatto, comes from an Italian family and the show’s famous sub is drawing on a dish that originated with Chicago’s Italian community a century earlier.

Within the show, even as Carmy’s restaurant evolved into a fine-dining establishment, it is still running a window around the side for the beef sandwich, which is noted as being the only thing turning a profit.

The show’s sandwich was created by Courtney Storer, the sister of showrunner Christopher Storer and The Bear’s food consultant, along with Matty Matheson, a cast member and real-life chef.

Whenever the camera cut to the sandwich, especially in its earlier seasons, it’s idolised as the platonic ideal of a marriage of beef, bread and a smattering of giardiniera, a condiment which consists of pickled vegetables.

Just the sight of it through the screen made you salivate (unless you’re vegetarian or vegan, yes, yes, we see you), and it was endlessly frustrating that such a sandwich could not be found in Sydney – at least one joint a few years ago did their own version of it but tried too hard to “elevate” it and, come one, that’s not actually what we want.

Storer shared her recipe for it online but it would take 90 minutes to make, plus hours of resting time, so you’d have to really be dedicated, or actually like cooking instead of just eating.

What was easier to make was The Bear’s second most iconic dish – the omelette, which you can whip up in a few minutes with pantry goods plus Boursin garlic and fine herbs cheese (found in many supermarkets in Australia) and some sour cream and chives crisps.

That omelette came to us in a scene in which Sydney makes the plate for Natalie on a day when the latter, heavily pregnant, hasn’t had time to eat. That omelette is an act of care for someone you love, and also incredibly enticing visually, the pop of that butter yellow sprinkled with the green of the chives.

We eat with our eyes as much as we do with our mouths, and many films and TV shows have portrayed food that looked so delectable or was so central to its story, that it didn’t matter we couldn’t even smell let alone taste it.

Think of the cheeseburger at the end of The Menu. After two hours of endless fine dining cuisine, each more elevated and creative (one might say pretentious, but some of us very much wanted that breadless bread plate), the one thing that Anya Taylor-Joy’s character wanted was an old-fashioned cheeseburger, that alchemic combination of juicy beef, melting cheese, tart pickle, sweet onion and soft bun.

That cheeseburger represented not just a craving that would dog you for the next week, until it’s satiated, but also the truism that sometimes, what you really want is not some elaborate concoction of oyster foam and reconstituted chestnuts, but a traditional dish that has been with us our whole lives, connected to childhood memories and guilt-free experiences.

What food represents can be comfort and familiarity – and therefore safety and care. Something that excites and soothes our tastebuds, perhaps opening a new world of experiences, perhaps a reminder of something thought lost, is also an act in which you know that you deserve that moment of sensory delight.

In the 2000 Lasse Hallstrom film Chocolat, which is now a bit Johnny Depp-tainted, Juliette Binoche’s character, Vianne, opens a chocolatier in a small French town and despite being an outcast at first, her presence and her creations becomes a catalyst for change within the repressed community.

It’s the hot chocolate from Chocolat that you remember the most. When Vianne pours that dark, viscous liquid from her copper pan into the white mug, and with the lightest sprinkle of chilli powder, it stimulates your senses. It definitely stimulated Judi Dench’s character, whose face morphs from scepticism to curiosity to delight.

Speaking of all things cacao, that chocolate cake from Matilda. It may been intended as punishment, but the gloss of that icing, the layers of that moist crumb, we too felt Bruce’s eventual joy as he triumphantly licks the plate at the end, besting the villainous Ms Trunchbull.

There are so many onscreen dishes that have become iconic over the years – Remy’s ratatouille in Ratatouille, the roast chicken in Julie & Julia, the tamagoyaki in Jiro Dreams of Sushi, butterbeer in Harry Potter (more the books than the movies), the pie in Twin Peaks, and the Sunday gravy in The Godfather.

As an aside, here’s a hot tip, literally. If you ever want to try butterbeer (and you’re OK with giving J.K. Rowling a slice of the cost) you can find it at Universal Studios in Los Angeles, the Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Florida and at the Leavesden Studios Tour in the UK, but most of them are cold and meh. But at Universal Studios in LA, you can find a hot version inside the Hog’s Head Pub and it is like liquid butterscotch. Amazing.

Sometimes, the onscreen food ends up bolstering the real-life off-screen establishments – Katz Diner in New York City, even though neither the pastrami on rye or turkey sandwich from When Harry Met Sally are the real reasons that scene is so memorable, and Magnolia Bakery, frequented by the Sex and the City characters.

See also: Laduree, the long-established French pâtisserie famed for its macarons, supplied all the colourful pastries for Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette. All those teeming platters of extravagant culinary creations against the opulence of the Palace of Versailles, every morsel, every crumb would tempt even the most no-fun nutritionist.

That’s not even opening the door to wine – although Sideways famously bolstered the sales of pinot noir and did great damage to merlot vintages.

Are you salivating yet?