I love good cooking knives. Some say I suffer from a knife addiction, but I’m not so sure about it. Yes, I have strong desires for more knives, different knives, all in a quest to experience what else the artisans and craftsmen of steel have created to make cooking more enjoyable, more elegant, and flat-out better. I don’t suffer from it, though. Not at all. I do, however, suffer from my inability to share this passion with those around me.
Yes, it hurts when those you care about think you’re stark raving mad for thinking about getting a $280 slicer (300mm sujihiki, actually) because it’s being discontinued and won’t be made any more. It is disconcerting when I lose to an eBay sniper my $400 bid for a 40-year-old set of handmade honyaki knives (a 300mm yanagi and 165mm deba made by Keijiri Doi) worth $1000. It stings even more when, out of a desire to share the joy of cutting and cooking, one ends up rebuked strongly for planning to buy knives for the other person.
Few people would understand why an entire online community of knife knuts is excited about a $375 knife that is being heralded as “the best sub-$1000 gyuto you can get”. Few people would understand why I have paid several hundred dollars for handmade chinese cleavers (chuka bocho from Japanese knife maker Mr. Shosui Takeda actually) when you can get Chinatown specials for about $20 or less.
Yet, occasionally the mainstream world, such as the Globe & Mail newspaper, peers into this world of raving fans enamored with high-performance steel.
“I draw the blade effortlessly through a tomato, creating a perfect slice, then another. The knife is light, the stroke is smooth and silky — I’m hooked.”
“Knife enthusiasts are drawn to the pure precision that comes with sharper Japanese blades.”
“These knives are nice, but actually learning how they should be used, perfecting the Japanese technique and hand control of these knives, is what’s amazing.”
I must admit that I continue to strive to improve my knife skills. I continue to strive to perfect my technique. I continue to strive to live up to the level of artistry and performance that my knives embody.
There is an incredible thrill from using a knife that cuts effortlessly as you dice an onion without your eyes tearing up. There is physical joy from chopping a pile of vegetables quickly into a pile of perfectly-formed pieces ready for the heat of the stove or oven. There is sublime appreciation for visual and gustatory perfection when one slices fish into perfectly-textured sashimi, or a quickly-seared steak into paper-thin slices of beef sashimi.
I can’t share these joys or thrills with anyone I know in person. I do not suffer from a knife addiction. I suffer from being unable to share my joy and excitement.
I suppose that is simply the way things are for knife knuts, knife knerds, and those hooked on anything not mainstream.
Leave it to China to produce a rousing video complete with patriotic music to show you the multi-tool that will enable the People’s Liberation Army to “liberate” the rest of the world!
It slices, it dices, it chops, it filets, it juliennes, it peels, it swims, it flies, it burrows, it does anything and everything you can think of and put into words!
Yes, my friends, it is the invincible Chinese military shovel!
If it wasn’t so damn cheesy and if I wasn’t so curious to see just how many different uses they could film, there’s no way I would have sat through 8 minutes of footage about a shovel.
Enjoying food is about flavor, texture, aroma, and visual appeal. And yeah, okay, nutritional value too. If any of those elements isn’t up to snuff, the food isn’t good. Unfortunately, the food industry today is about producing volume, not about producing food that’s actually good. It’s about quantity, not quality.
Feedlot beef has no beefiness to it. Mass-produced pork has no taste. Chicken cranked out by veritable factories is bland — the perfectly safe choice for people who have no idea what they like to eat.
I had the great pleasure last night of cooking up two pasture-raised, organic chickens courtesy of Kawartha Ecological Growers. These were young chickens, technically poussins. I have to tell you that these naturally-raised chickens were real chickens, through and through, putting the supermarket fare — yes, even the pricey Maple Leaf Prime chickens — to shame.
These were about 2.5lb birds, and I had in mind a dish for them that would be simple and clean to let the actual chicken flavor come out. I didn’t want to mask the innate qualities of the chicken with strong spices. I elected to make a simple chicken toscana with peppers. I would portion each chicken into 8 pieces, on the bone, brown the pieces, add some garlic and diced proscuitto, deglaze with white wine, then simmer and braise for 20 minutes with chopped tomatoes. Sautee some sweet peppers to the point of browning them, deglaze with a bit of water, and add the whole shebang to the simmering chicken & tomatoes. Add a bit of salt and pepper, serve with a side of rice, and that’s it.
Right off the bat, I knew something good was going on. These little chickens had no fat. Supermarket chickens usually have a fair bit of fat under the skin, and even the so-called nicer stuff like Prime chicken has a fair bit of fat within the muscle which is particularly easy to see in the thighs. Not these pasture-raised chickens, though. Having fed naturally on what chickens are supposed to eat, and having had to walk around and hunt for it all day long meant these chickens were incredibly lean. That’s a good thing already.
The real test was, of course, in the eating. I have to admit that my greatest fear during the entire process was that I might, in some way, ruin the chicken. I haven’t browned meats in my pans for quite some time, and I didn’t want to overcook the chicken or worse, burn it. I wasn’t sure if the recipe, as simple as it is, would overpower the chicken or just not have enough flavor to be enjoyable. Thankfully, the end result was one of the most enjoyable chicken dishes I’ve had in a long time.
The chicken tasted of chicken! It was moist, smooth, and had an intrinsic chicken flavor to it. I don’t know how to stress that enough. Run-of-the-mill mass-produced chicken is bland. It has little or no flavor to it. These naturally-raised chickens, however, had a light yet sustained meat taste to them. The sauce was equally tasty, having picked up flavorful goodness from the chicken, from the pan, and from the fresh, local tomatoes and genuine proscuitto di Parma.
Simple dishes rely entirely on the freshness and the quality of the ingredients used to make them. The flip side, however, is that they also enable quality ingredients to really show themselves and shine.
Chicken should taste like chicken. Regular supermarket chicken does not taste like chicken. For chicken that tastes the way it’s supposed to taste, you’ll need to spend a little more and buy free-range, naturally-raised chickens. Maybe you can’t do that every time, and maybe not every dish needs that — if you’re going to mask the intrinsic taste of the meat with lots of herbs and spices anyways, it won’t matter what quality chicken you use. If you enjoy good food, if you truly enjoy what meat of each kind is supposed to taste like, please treat yourself at least once in a while to good, quality chicken raised the way chickens are supposed to be raised. Get your hands on some quality free-range, pasture-raised chickens that ran around, pecked everywhere, scratched the earth, breathed fresh air and freely flapped their wings around.
You will taste the difference!
I am often asked by friends and family why I have so many knives. The belief is that all knives are the same — they are sharpened slabs of metal with a sharp edge to cut your food. Many good homes make do with 1 or 2 knives. Really, even I would suggest to most friends to avoid buying knife sets and simply buy a good chef’s knife and a good paring knife. That’s all you really need.
So really, the answer about why so many knives in my kitchen really isn’t about necessity. It’s about perfection and enjoyment. Perfection is never a necessity, especially when it comes to food. Enjoyment isn’t a necessity either when it comes to cooking… for most people, anyway.
I came upon an interesting quote today that I think sheds light on this issue:
“The Japanese are famous for their acutely overdeveloped sense of specialization. They are the world’s foremost perfectionists, even more so than Germans.”
Knives are tools used to prepare food. They are the same as saws to a carpenter, dance shoes to a dancer, and brushes to a painter. Why does a carpenter need different kinds of saws? Because each is made to cut wood differently to suit the purpose of the cut. Why does a dancer need different pairs of dance shoes? Because, other than visually matching whatever outfits the dancer may be wearing, a lower and higher heel height actually suits different dance styles better. Why does a painter need different brushes? Because to create different effects, the painter needs different brush sizes and textures.
Does the carpenter need many different kinds of saws? No, unless he wants to do the job perfectly. Does a dancer need different kinds of shoes? No, unless he or she wants to look and move perfectly. Does an artist need different kinds of brushes? No, unless the artist wants to transfer what he or she sees in the mind’s eye to the paper or canvas perfectly.
Does a home chef need multiple knives? Do I need 5 chef knives & gyutos of different sizes & geometries, a deba (fish butchering & filleting knife), 2 yanagiba (fish slicers) of different lengths, a garasuki (chicken boning knife), 3 Chinese cleavers (all slicers) of different sizes, 2 nakiri (double-edged vegetable knives), a usuba (single-edged vegetable knife), 3 petty knives (large paring knives, essentially), 2 santoku, a paring knife, and a bread knife? No, but I want to create not just good food, but perfect food, and I want to enjoy the entire process for a perfect experience.
Knives are specialized tools. Each knife is designed with a particular profile (what you see from the side) and geometry (what you’d see if you cut it and looked at its cross-section) to suit a particular task. Yes, some knives are pretty much generalists, and other knives are definitely specialists. The generalists like the gyutos and Chinese cleavers can be pressed into service for almost anything you want. The question is, though, will they be the best tool for the job? If you want the cleanest texture to your food, or the fastest, most enjoyable prep session, then maybe not.
“Good enough is good enough” is, I imagine, how most of us approach most of what we do.
“Only perfection is good enough” is how those who take real pride approach what they do.
My friend’s family basement was finished roughly by an economical contractor and carpenter. It’s good enough for family use, but very evidently not a masterful job even to their own laypersons’ eyes. Good enough is good enough.
My dancing friend who is also an instructor wears soft street shoes when teaching casually, but he would never wear them to a competition. He would wear only the shoes that allow him to perform his best. Only perfection is good enough.
If I wanted to create food that’s just passable, I could make do with just 2 knives. But if I want to create food that’s absolutely fantastic, and remain happy while doing so, I need specialized tools. I need far more than just 2 knives.
Many of my knives are Japanese. They are specialized knives, and they were created to an exacting standard. The Japanese cultural obsession with perfection is a commendable thing and one that ought to be adopted in many fields of practice. Cooking, I believe, should be one of those fields.
Food is not just fuel. Food is adventure, food is pleasure, food is family, food is friendship, food is love, food is fun.
Food is a reflection of how one lives life. It begins not with the first bite, but from the very selection of ingredients and continues through the preparation of the food and through the enjoyment of the food. Perfection may never be achieved, but surely it is worthwhile to strive for it at every step along the way.
Verify the Veracity of Advice You Receive by Email — Even When It Comes from Trusted Sources
Bad information flows around anywhere, even within networks of emergency management professionals. Just yesterday, there was an article credited to Doug Coup flying around the email system. It came to me from an individual in my branch, who got it from someone at another branch with a lot of emergency response experience, who got it from someone at the federal level and also has extensive emergency management experience. The entire chain of people who had touched and forwarded the email was credible.
Unfortunately, nobody had bothered to verify the facts and advice espoused by the article.
In the forwarded article, Doug Copp talks about his experience with the American Rescue Team International but does not note that it is a private company and that his experience is primarily in countries abroad, such as in Mexico and Turkey. He advocate the “Triangle of Life” rather than the “Duck & Cover” advice that the American Red Cross and FEMA promote in the United States. His justification is that in his experience, buildings collapse and “pancake” on the objects within them. Therefore, ducking under cover means getting crushed under the furniture in question, while those who lie down next to the objects have a chance to survive in the triangular gap created by the floor above breaking on the object and creating a triangular “lean-to” kind of space for survival.
However, after only 15 minutes of light research, I found a few credible sources that refute the Triangle of Life advice.
Snopes.com is a good source for verifying a lot of the stuff that goes around by email. Though it is not an academic or authoritative site, the Snopes folks typically do a good job of investigating and assessing the validity of common chain emails or viral messages going around social networks. Their assessment is that the jury is still out on the Triangle of Life, but that it leans towards being crap advice.
Earthquake Solutions is another private company, in this case a consulting company helping clients assess risks and develop mitigation and response plans. They cite that in their experience in the United States, Copp’s advice is wrong and downright dangerous.
However, the most authoritative source is the American Red Cross itself. Citing numbers and specific data from their experience with earthquake response, the Red Cross provides solid reasons why the “Drop, Cover, Hold On” is still the best course of action in an earthquake situation. The key points in their response are:
I made the mistake of forwarding on the original Triangle of Life article to close friends because it seemed credible and came from people whom I trust. I am glad that something tickled the back of my brain and prodded me to check up on the information. After just a bit of cursory research, I found enough contrary advice from other sources that I trust — most notably the American Red Cross response — that I had to quickly write back to my friends to tell them to disregard the prior information I’d just sent to them. I was even careful to look for attempts to discredit Doug Copp’s theory by discrediting him alone, but this was not the case. His advice, at least in an American and Canadian context and based on prior experience and data from the field, is wrong and dangerous.
Even when information comes from trusted sources, it is very much worth your while to do some personal research to verify it — particularly when it’s about saving lives.