With the demise of Gourmet magazine announced today by publisher Conde Nast, that most-annoyingly named group of elitists the “foodies” are crying into their consommé. But, as someone a little more rough-hewn, I must admit to now fearing for the ultimate demise of my own preferred form of more regional domestic porn: Sunset magazine.

I’ve been a Sunset subscriber the past few years, but I’ve been aware of the magazine and its impact on certain segments of the population for as long as I can remember. At a backyard barbecue at a friend’s house in Seattle’s Squire Park neighborhood 15 years ago, we lacked a serving platter big enough to hold several dozen ears of corn. I spied a toddler-sized Radio Flyer wagon leaning against the house and was immediately inspired — once the little wagon was washed off and lined with foil, it became the perfect corn platter on wheels. “Look,” I said to the party’s hostess, “just like in Sunset magazine!” And she knew exactly what I meant, since for those above a certain age, “Sunset” is shorthand for the kind of entertaining that few of us have time for anymore.

And, while I have no imminent plans to build a solar-powered garden shed, to take a driving tour of Northern California cupcake bakeries, to get more gorgeous blossoms from my rhododendrons, or even to make a pot of red potato and salmon chowder, I can look at the pictures in Sunset anytime I want and fantasize about maybe doing all that stuff someday.

And like classic porno mags (and unlike anything online), Sunset does still have awesome photography. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve seen a perfect shot of the Seattle skyline, with the early evening sun setting the buildings aflame (for yet another story about the burgeoning arts scene); or golden frothy pints of the latest microbrew (with some kind of twist, of course, made by nuns or cooked up by a retired dotcom CEO in a former dirigible hangar); or perfectly lit and brilliantly styled studio portraits of oysters on the half shell (described, yet again, as a “Northwest delicacy”). Sunset manages to make it all seem provocative and comforting at the same time.

A social scientist could surely point out that when I subscribed to Sunset I crossed into some new more docile, domestic phase of my life. I’d just hoist a golden frothy pint and have to agree.