"It's up to 400lb now," he expostulated over a wall of jamjars. "How on earth am I going to sell it? My usual outlets won't be able to cope."
Jews are the answer to Adrian's problem
"I can tell you what you need," I said. "You need Jews. Get into the Jewish market and it will be Christmas come early."
"What do you mean?" he muttered (he's of Christian stock). "I mean Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year." "So?" he whispered.
"Well," I replied, "it's probably fair to say Jews don't eat more honey than anybody else. Give a blindfolded Jew four pieces of toast, one with smoked salmon, one with chopped liver, one shmeared with chicken fat, and one with honey, and the honey would probably come fourth. But on Rosh Hashanah, we are more or less commanded to eat honey. We put some on an apple to symbolise the sweet year ahead. There's even a special blessing."
"My God!" gasped Adrian. "Exactly, what's more, it's the season for making honey cake. And, it's only four weeks away. But (and I think this was my flash of genius) it can't be any old honey. We have to brand it. Your initials are ABJ – Amazing British Jews. We'll put that on the label with Divine Rosh Hashanah Honey."
"Fantastic," he cried, "but doesn't it have to be kosher or something?" "That's true. I'm the only one who's seen you handling it and I wasn't a member of any beth din last time I looked. It won't be properly kosher. That means they could sell it at Sainsbury's in Birmingham but I doubt they would shift 400 jars. Apart from that I'm out of ideas."
"Uh, that's not much good," he sighed, "and it's top quality stuff. I want a premium price. Maybe one of your readers will have a good idea."
"You never know," I said. And I don't.
