It’s our (non paid for, totally honest, sometimes brutally so) Weekly Review. This time we’re putting Jamie Oliver’s new party selling scheme, Jamie at Home, to the test.

The patron saint of pukka, in a kitchen near you soon

How times change. If you’d told me a few years ago that I’d be chuffed to bits to spend a night looking at mixing bowls, I’d have sent you back to the bar for another round. Admittedly, the mixing bowls in question weren’t just any mixing bowls, but created in rustic china with a duck egg blue rim, plus pouring spout (did I know I needed the latter? How little I’ve lived…). Even more importantly, a little bit of Jamie Oliver magic is fired in to their very clay. I was at a neighbour’s house for a Jamie at Home evening. This is a look-see at his new J-Me (geddit…?) products, washed down with wine, nibbles and gossip. A potent mix, especially with Jamie in attendance. Yes, the big man was there in person. Well, sort of.

The Jamie effect is the most important aspect of this particular party selling format (think Avon/Pampered Chef/Tupperware).  There were around 12 women at our gathering, all aged upwards from the mid thirties. Lawyers, stay-at-home-mums, a teacher and a PR were in the mix, and what was extraordinary was how we all gushed, ‘Ooh, is Jamie coming along?’, then said, ‘aaah, Jamie’ as soon as he popped up on the television screen. Alas, with thousands of parties happening every year, Mr Oliver couldn’t possibly make each one. Instead, his thoughts are broadcast on the party host’s TV throughout the party, starting with an introduction to his ‘lovely, beautiful’ products, and ending with the great man cooking some of his recipes.

The first time Jamie appears, it’s quite a hard sell, despite all the ‘lovelys’. Like similar schemes, Jamie at Home is only as successful as its selling team, so it’s recruit, recruit, recruit all the way. ‘Want extra money for school fees’? asks Jamie from the telly, ‘Maybe go on holiday?’ He makes it sound so easy to earn a few extra pounds that you start to daydream about flogging his terracotta pots and napkin sets yourself. Shake yourself: Jamie Oliver’s bank balance might not need you, but Jamie Inc is certainly out to get you.

At the party, guests get to see lots of the products, and are given a very nicely photographed brochure to leaf through. This isn’t a venture that’s been done on the cheap. The host encourages you to touch and feel, and also plies you with wine and eats, until you start to imagine that yes, you will host a dinner party and serve bits of prosciutto on a slightly strange wooden bench platter thing. One of their bestsellers, apparently, but I didn’t really get why you’d plonk a big bench in the middle of the table.

My kitchen, after a Jamie makeover. NOT

However, I was impressed with the quality of the products, and the prices aren’t too bad. I spent £14 on a vast roasting dish that promises not to buckle under intense heat, and I’m particularly pleased with my new mixing bowl (£15), with the aforementioned spout. It’s almost as big as the roasting dish, so I still haven’t found a home for it in my kitchen. Luckily, it’s pretty enough to sit on the work surface, lending my home an illusory domestic goddess vibe.

There are products for the garden (too many of them with the silly slogans Jamie seems so fond of ), gifts for children (all very middle class mum friendly, such as eco gardening tools, baking tins and a sweet make-it-yourself birdhouse), and treats, such as scented candles. At the do I was at, there were very few of these to smell, which didn’t help the buying process – if I’m going to be tempted to splash out on a Pomegranate, Tiare (I know, what?) Peach Blossom scented candle, I want to know it won’t make me feel sick.

The stuff isn’t overloaded with branding, usually just a very discreet J-Me logo somewhere discreet. And Jamie’s face isn’t gurning at you from every angle either; he (or his team) are sensible enough to let the products do the talking for themselves.

Would I go again? Absolutely. Shopping, gossip and wine is a fairly easygoing combination on a cold Tuesday night. The products are lovely, and you can either treat yourself, or go for something you actually need, like a potato masher or set of knives. And the quality is good. I’m not tempted to sell them myself, because though the hard sell is hidden under a uniquely Jamie softly, softly exterior, it’s still a hard sell.  And I’m not going to say ‘pukka’ for anyone, even St Jamie.

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