On the cutting edge

On the cutting edge

 

If you ever find yourself cooking next to a professional chef, don’t reach for his knife. That’s a good way to get your hand slapped (or chopped off!). Knives are the one kitchen tool chefs refuse to lend, and try not to let out of their sight.

And I can respect that. In fact, I feel the same way. A good, sharp chef’s knife becomes practically an extension of your hand — and is just as essential and personal.

I’ve had my carbon steel Sabatier chef’s knife since college, long before I actually knew my way around a kitchen. I didn’t seek it out on purpose — it was just a lucky buy. A friend discovered a cache of knives on sale for a song at an odd little store in an unfashionable New York neighborhood, and I bought one, mostly because my friend said to, and it was cheap.

Little did I know that the 10-inch blade would become my most precious possession.

I certainly didn’t understand that at the beginning. I threw it in the drawer next to the knives and forks we had purloined from the college cafeteria, and let anyone use it. I allowed it to rust on more than one occasion, seldom sharpening it or even swiping it on one of those edging tools. I used it for everything from cutting twine to chicken bones.

But as clueless as I was, even I could not fail to notice how well it cut, how comfortable it felt in my hand, and how sharp it stayed, despite my ill treatment. Over the years, without my even noticing, it went from being “a” knife to being “my” knife. I even started taking it with me when I traveled, if I knew I’d be cooking at a beach house or with relatives.

When it was about 20, I took a class in knife skills, and discovered that, while I wasn’t paying attention, the world had switched to easy-care stainless steel. When I mentioned my old Sabatier, the chef got a faraway look in his eye, and told me how lucky I was

I looked with new eyes at my old relic. I was finally ready to give it the respect it deserved. I scoured off the rust and started religiously washing and drying the blade whenever I used it. I bought a stone to sharpen it on, and slipped it into a shield to protect its edge.

And it served me faithfully for another decade, slicing through even the toughest foods with ease.

Until a few months ago.

I was cutting an onion and something felt wrong. I looked down and noticed a small hairline crack at the edge of the blade. I sliced again, and suddenly it wasn’t a crack — there was a small half-moon gone from the edge of the metal.

I was bereft. I even shed a few tears. (Maybe it was the onion, but I don’t think so.) Then I got philosophical.

“What can you expect? It’s 30 years old,” I told myself. “It’s had a good, long life, but it’s a goner.” And I sadly put it aside, though I couldn’t quite bring myself to throw it out.

I bought a new knife, and then another one, and another, trying to find a replacement with the right weight and balance. But nothing satisfied me.

Then one day I was in Shackford’s and noticed that their knife-sharpening service quoted prices not just for sharpening, but for something called “restoration.” Hope sprang up in my heart. Could my knife be saved after all?

The short answer is Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! My knife is back, better and sharper than ever. Chopping is once again a delight. Cooking is a joy. I’m hunting for things to slice.

But no. Don’t even think about asking. You can’t borrow it.

 

* * * * *

 

I enjoy cutting onions (I guess I love a good cry), so to celebrate the rebirth of my knife, I decided to make some French onion soup. Other than the slicing, it’s a straightforward dish. The only secrets lie in using a good, flavorful stock and giving the onions sufficient time to caramelize and give off their wonderful sweet, rich flavor.

 

French Onion-Shallot Soup

 

4 large yellow onions, sliced

8-10 shallots, sliced

2 Tbsp. butter

1/4 tsp. sugar

4-6 slices French bread, toasted

4-6 oz. gruyere cheese, grated (about 1 1/2 cups)

1 qt. high quality chicken or beef stock, preferably homemade

1 cup dry white wine

Salt and pepper

 

Peel and thinly slice the onions and shallots. (I know, I know, the shallots are a pain to peel.) But they add great flavor. If you’re not as in love with your knife as I am, you can use a mandoline for the slicing. I don’t recommend using the food processor, as it tears the onions.

Over low hear, melt the butter in a large saucepan and add the onions and shallots. Cook covered over low heat for about 15 minutes, checking to make sure they are softening and becoming translucent, not browning. Remove the lid and cook until the liquid has evaporated. Then turn the heat up to medium, add salt to taste and the sugar, and continue cooking until the onions are a rich brown, about another 15 minutes.

Add the stock and wine to the pan and bring to a boil. Simmer for 15 minutes.

Pour the soup into individual ovenproof soup bowls, or into a single casserole dish. Float the bread slices on top of the soup, and cover them and the surface of the soup with a thick layer of grated cheese. Place the bowls under the broiler until the cheese has melted and is golden in color.

Serves 4-6