I’ll admit it. I have a kitchen knife fetish.
Fresh home made bread demands one certain knife. Meat requires a different type. I even use a different kine of knife to cut an angel food cake than for, let’s say, a chocolate cake. There is a paring knife from Jim’s mom with a blade thinned by years of use that is great for slicing tomatoes and onions. Jim made a number of knives over the years. One has a sturdier blade that I like to use when cutting turnips. Whatever the knife - it has to be sharp!
My dear dad is partly to blame for this fetish. He was very precise in which knife he used for what… and it had better be sharp! Probably my first indication that he had become overwhelmed with taking care of my mom and his own health issues (that we weren’t even aware of at the time) was the day, while fixing supper for them, I reached for a knife to slice potatoes. Oh.My.Gosh. It was dull. Never in my life had I encountered a dull knife in my parents’ home.
Dad taught me how to use a knife. He also taught me how to cut up a chicken when, in my early teens, I would much rather have been reading a book than dealing with a bloody chicken! But that was dad. He insisted, and I didn’t dare say no.
So now I have a knife fetish. You would think with this collection of knives (I just pulled out the ones I use minus steak knives), there would be no need for any more. I certainly didn’t know I had a wish for any more knives. But sometimes you wish for something without realizing it. Right?
What did Jim give me for Valentine’s Day you ask? Why knives, of course!
Nice, sharp, molded to the shape of my hand, knives.
What I like about these knives is the ridges in the blades. Food, especially the dreaded starchy potato, when sliced, does not stick to the blade. It is amazing! What am I going to do with the rest of my knives? Keep each and every one, of course. They each have a purpose.And they are sharp!