Tuesday, June 02, 2015

cutting remarks

I need to start listening to the women in my life.

This particular epiphany centers around a knife.  Well, two knives.

One of my ongoing frustrations in preparing meals here on the coast of Mexico is that whenever I chop vegetables, a large portion of them manage to adhere to the knife blade.  I am constantly wasting time by scraping the hangers-on off of the knife.  I suspect it is the humidity.

At least, I thought it was the humidity until I talked with my sister-in-law.  She and my brother live in the high desert country of central Oregon -- where humidity is not a problem.  She told me she has the same knife problem.

Or, had the same problem until she bought what she described as an almost miraculous knife.  Vegetables never stick to it.  The trick seemed to be the upper portion of the blade that had a surface rough enough to serve as a sander.

When we took Mom out for her belated Mother's Day, we noticed the kitchen store was next door.  I needed a couple of items (a glass tea pot -- that I never did find -- and a remote meat thermometer for my yet-to-be-used oven).  While searching for the elusive tea pot, I ran across some knives similar to Christy's. 

The store owner walked up to us as we were weighing our choices.  She recommended that I go in another direction -- with the knife she uses for her culinary encounters.  (I knew we are in a high class joint when "culinary encounters" is thrown around so blithely.  We used to call them cookin' classes.)

You can see her recommendation at the top of this piece.  A recommendation I followed by muling that beauty down to the house with no name. 

The blade appears to have a good engineering pedigree.  I am not certain what the Mad Max holes in the blade do, but that ridge is obviously designed to slough off tramps that seek an unpaid ride.

I have been putting it through its paces.  It is nowhere near as effective as Christy's blade.  The onion and tomato chunks are properly disciplined.  But garlic, bell peppers, chiles, cucumbers, and carrots cling to the knife as if they knew their ultimate fate.

So, there you have it.  Christy was correct.  I should have bought a blade like hers.

I could try to fall back on the scientific method and claim that without actually trying her blade under similar circumstances, the testing is not yet concluded.  But it is.

My hand of cards is folded.  Christy, you will have to bring your knife down when you and Darrel move here next year. 

Until then, I will keep wiping my blade in anticipation of your arrival.


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