And a third hometown paper ran a good piece on the motherfucking cookbook but chose to quote two of the old-timers in the business on the realistic language. I have nothing but (unreciprocated) respect for Julia’s editor, but it was odd to see her dissing something she admitted she had not read. And of course hearing that Jane’s ex is appalled by all the F bombs is about as surprising as the fact that fucking seats at the fucking counter are fucking hard to come by. Cooking was never “the province of polite people.” That sort goes to Washington and resists uttering “Go fuck yourself” on the floor of Congress. Besides, haven’t recent studies shown that the best way to relieve pain from a grease burn is to shriek anything but “fudge”? If you can’t take the language, get out of the kitchen.