Take a look: it's ridiculously long, exhaustively thorough and has me, at least, giggling like a schoolchild. I think my favourite is "in the top left paragraph, 'tories' should read 'laboratories'" – but I'm also fond of "'Normal Rockwell' should read 'Norman Rockwell'", "'your own spirts' should read 'your own spirits'" and "'Dripping' should read 'Dipping'." "Causal", the corrections tell us firmly, elsewhere, "should read 'casual' and 'desert' should read 'dessert'."
Who knows, meanwhile, what would have been cooked up if readers had followed the original instructions here? "In the recipe for Compressed Tomato, an additional step should be taken before step one: 'Remove the cores'."
Or here? "In the recipe for Goulash broth, steps three and seven should be omitted."
Or here? "In the note in the margin, '192.2 °C' should read '192.2 °F'."
"Why do you need a copyeditor? Because you don't want to have to make these kinds of corrections in your second edition," writes editor Erin Brenner, who tweeted about the corrections extravaganza yesterday.
They're certainly bad, but not as embarrassing as – in another cookbook cock-up, strangely enough - Penguin Australia's misprint, which suggested that a recipe for tagliatelle with sardines and prosciutto should include "salt and freshly ground black people", rather than pepper. Or how about HarperCollins mistakenly printing an early version of Jonathan Franzen's Freedom, littered with errors? Or Penguin accidentally chopping off the fictional foreword from Lolita?
It's mean to laugh – but it's hard to resist. Any publishing howlers you're particularly fond of which might give us all a chuckle?