It was a joke, I think. My friends Sam & Abigail came round for Shabbat dinner on Friday night, and they brought me a gift: The Jewish Princess Cookbook. How thoughtful, I thought.
Dinner, of course, was already done-and-dusted. My girlfriend's spaghetti-squash soup for starters; my patented honey-mustard chicken, accompanied by roast potatoes and sweet potatoes, as the main. My other friends' gorgeous baby, Luna - who loves me more than you, Sam - provided the entertainment.
I picked up the cookbook yesterday. I began to read. But the more I did, the more I winced: at the poor prose, the squirm-inducing tone, and jokes so bad they could grace any barmitzvah-boy's speech. Here's an example of their brilliance:
"It really is true that the way to a Jewish man's heart is through his stomach. If you asked Jewish men whether they would prefer a nice bowl of chicken soup or a romp upstairs, I'll bet eight out of ten of them would go for the chicken soup - especially if it contained matzo balls."
Scientific studies aside, there are some decent recipes in there. And the pictures are pretty. But Georgie Tarn and Tracey Fine - the self-confessed JPs behind the book - are not talented writers. If you do buy this lightweight tome, do yourself a favour and ignore everything but the dishes. Georgie and Tracey should stick to shopping.
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