Back in 2014, Napa had an earthquake.
We were totally fine—broken glasses and dishware to clean up, shards that managed to get into every drawer and cupboard, but that was about all. So on the one hand, no big deal.
But on the other, it was scaaarry. For a good two weeks, I was low-level jittery and super emotional. Nothing like a natural disaster to get one very present to what truly matters.
One thing that matters—people.
One thing that doesn’t—stuff.
Take kitchen knives. You really only need about three. (So why do I have ten?)
1. You need a good chef’s knife (above middle) for the bulk of your chopping and cutting.
2. You need a good paring knife (above left) to do small tasks.
3. You need a good serrated knife (above right) for slicing bread.
That’s it.
If you insist,
4. You could have a carving knife (above middle), a long, thin blade that’s better than a chef’s knife for slicing a roast, say, or skinning a salmon.
5. You could have a boning knife (above left), provided you bone anything. (Who does?)
6. You could have one knifely indulgence. Mine, my tomato knife (above right). It’s a medium-sized knife with small serrations, perfect for biting into a tomato’s pudgy flesh, where a straight-edged knife might slip. (What’s yours?)
What kind of knives should you buy? How should you best keep them sharp? Topics for other posts.
Meanwhile, clean out your knife drawer—it’ll be good for your feng shui—slice yourself a fresh, ripe, fall-y fig, and toast what’s important.
Here’s hoping the next reminder is a little less dramatic.
