Take a good look at Chris Martin.
Does this man look like he eats much at all, let alone gourmet samplings worthy of cookbook? As for the missus, Gwyneth Paltrow has legs like twigs and there's a woman who could use a spud or two in her diet.
So pardon me if I, too, don't believe she was solely responsible for writing My Father's Daughter.
Julia Turshen claims that she helped Ms. Paltrow, although it's unclear if her role was ghostwriter or taster or quantity-checker (remember, a teaspoon in Ireland is heaping but a teaspoon in the States is level).
The dust-up began in an article in the New York Times, in which a cookbook ghostwriter makes the claim that celebrity chefs don't do all their own writing or recipe research, and Gwyneth Paltrow is just another one of the many in that category.
Ms. Paltrow took offense, denying that she needed that kind of help. Somehow or other, through self-instruction or meditation or sheer willpower, she's redesigned herself as a culinary marvel, the sort of cook Rachel Ray would be if Rachel Ray was the daughter of actors and was rolling in the kind of dough that turns into fully equipped kitchens with Aga ranges.
I don't much care, nor do I think the average cookbook buyer cares.
If someone buys Ms. Paltrow's book, they're more interested in the verbiage in between the recipes, to satisfy their curiosity about how the Paltrow family, celebrities all, gathered together. After all, the rich are different from you and me, and it might be fun to discover how and in what way when it comes to celebrating holidays.
As for the recipes? There isn't all that much difference between most of them.
I can't say that I'd want to cook like Ms. Paltrow. To come out at the end, looking like a walking stick? I mean, is the food any good at all if her husband is borderline emaciated?
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