Hand Me a Knife

I have used a variety of knives during my years of cooking. As a child, my family’s farmhouse kitchen contained a case hung on the end of a cabinet. It was filled with a matched set of stamped metal knives with different-colored plastic handles. I think they were a thank you gift for a timeshare presentation my parents endured. These were not great knives, but what they lacked in keenness they made up for in longevity – there are probably still one or two of them chasing around in my folks’ second kitchen. As a bride, I was given a set of Chicago Cutlery knives, a group gift from some dear relatives. I unknowingly abused these knives by never sharpening them and throwing them into the dishwasher with abandon, but they served me pretty well anyway and continue to do so, especially now that I give them better care.

It was the unexpected present of a Henkels chef’s knife which marked one of a series of turning points in my evolution as a cook, however. Suddenly, prepping produce was fun, nearly effortless, and I began to pay attention to discovering the best way to dice an onion or mince herbs. I learned how to hold the knife correctly. I was introduced to the use of a steel for aligning the edge. I began to research sharpening techniques. I saw the value of quality. I started scheming to replace all my old knives with new, beautiful, expensive German knives, but then I learned about Japanese knives, ceramic knives, carbon, non-carbon – whoa – a knife snob was conceived. “You can’t be a good cook without great knives!” was my mantra.

Luckily, sense returned before I sold my soul for a Forum cleaver. I thought of my grandmothers, both perfectly good cooks who used whatever knife came to hand. I thought of cooks all over the globe, including the ones included in a piece I read once by a man who was invited to an important Moroccan dinner party and was shown the cooks preparing the meal on the roof of the house. Each woman’s entire equipment consisted of one homemade knife. No cutting boards were to be seen – just each person squatting and cutting vegetables against her thumb and into a bowl, rather like my grandmothers used to do, now I think of it.

It is certainly true that quality knives make it easier and more pleasurable to prepare food. When I am in the kitchens of some of my friends and work with their dull, cheap knives, I’m apt to start longing for my Henkels or my MAC santoku. To insist that one can’t be a good cook without great knives is silly, however. It’s like saying a woman can’t be beautiful without wearing couture. Both are an enhancement, not the substance.

Even so, I wish each of you to have at least one good knife: well-balanced in your hand, ready for every task, effortless to use, and able to last your lifetime, plus a little.