“My day is really bad without a sharp knife. If, in the morning, I have to choose between eating breakfast and sharpening my knives - which takes about an hour for four knives – I sharpen my knives”. This from a conversation with a chef de partie (“B.R.”) at The French Laundry.
As with virtually everything that I see and hear at TFL, it was an elemental yet thunderous exclamation. The tools of the trade. If you take care of your knives, they will take care of you. This is often said, heard and practiced in kitchens across the miles. A cook’s tools begin with the very basic and essential chef’s and paring knives. To clarify about those knives; I write about, and work within, a European heritage of “la batterie de la cuisine”. I am not an Asian–influenced chef. Although I have the essential cleavers as used in Japanese and Chinese cuisine, they are not my chosen implements. However, the personality of a cook is often evident in their choice of steel, composites, handles and style of knives. Consider the traditional full-tang rosewood handled knife with carbon steel blades that are as sharp as any knife I have ever held, yet they require a constant cleaning; to composite steel blades that hold a great edge yet are more difficult to hone; and to the new-age of knives – ceramic and full-metal weapons that seem more suitable – to my eye, that is – in a Star Trek episode. Cooks may be partial to Swedish steel or German manufacturing or to a particular price structure. Whatever the make, model and esthetics one truth needs to hold court at all times; the knife must be sharp.
The stone that your knife is sharpened on must be smooth and nick-free. The stones at TFL are first preened over like a mother attending her newborn child and then smoothed on an abrasive stone pad as if readying the chalice of communion - before the knife itself gets any attention at all. It is ritual. It is personal. It is a craft. “A poor craftsman blames his tools”. Can’t cut the tomato? Don’t blame the gardener. Look in your hand and feel the edge of your knife. Can you make an incredibly sharp slice in a fingernail? Can you shave a bit of hair off you arm (sounds ugly, eh?). Can you slice a sheet of paper with one fell-swoop and see no rippling effects of dullness in the paper cut…? Steel to steel is one of the sounds that allows us to travel back in time...
Often, the last task in the evening before the lights are dimmed in the kitchen is the protracted swishing of knife to stone. The sound is eerily ominous. This is a time-honored expression of a personal relationship between a cook and cold forged steel. It conjures up medieval images of warring bands of marauders preparing to do battle, or of knights on battlements readying to defend the castle walls. Whatever the imagery, the knives are still sharpened by the one who is using them. An extension of the dance in a previous blog, the student of the culinary arts cannot go far awry if their blades and edges are “on point”.
Take care of your knives and they will take care of you. Peace.
~R