Given that food has such a strong porn element, it’s probably not surprising that the Yellow Magazine has started a site with stories and recipes but mostly shopping — native titties are no longer enough. But what a site it is; the Williams-Sonoma catalog has more soul. I assume the recipes come from the purveyors, but there’s no indication of provenance. (Plus the links suck: I am dying to make the “Hamper of Parmigiano” appetizer but can’t connect.) It’s depressing, given how many of my most amazing eating experiences were courtesy of my tagging along with my consort on assignment way back when the bosses were tending the main store: the magazine. We ate in people’s homes; he always had interpreters who led us to the most authentic local foods. The last trip was to India, for caffeine, where we had one extraordinary encounter after another thanks to his fixer, Neha. But click the “explore world foods” button and all you get on the most amazing country, the one where you need all five senses and could use four more, is a bloodless recitation of non-food facts. To see that cornucopia reduced to a $75 basket of rice and sauces is beyond sad. But that’s just me. Anyone looking for tetilla will find plenty.