Ye gods! I'm reading the New Yorker this week and Adam Gopnik mentions all the food in Proust, implying there are treatises (but hopefully no blogs) about it. So here is the link. Gopnik is a great writer who has a book about Paris (the city not the celebrity) out.
Right now I'm reading the antithesis of Proust: Three Trapped Tigers, about pre-Castro (barely) Havanna. Of course the interesting thing is that it's about young men, one a journalist, the other a musician and their lives. And music. And writing. And women and men. Come to think of it, sort of like Proust. Only in a 1959 vein. Try to imagine. It's a great book. Not a quick read, but the puns and descriptions are fantastic. Like Proust, except for maybe the puns. He does have lots of humor which flew right by me the first times I read The Masterpiece.
Just today in the NYTimes book review section, I read that after a few years, one actually forgets almost all of any given book, hence the need to reread.