Midwinter Tool Talk

Who knew they had to be really sharp?

We’re not talking sharp as in groomed, properly aproned, ready for table action in the social sense, illustrated here by Yours Truly preparing for…not sure, I think it was Thanksgiving a few weeks ago. Don’t you love the apron, by the way? (Thank you, again, Nicole Ortega! And howbout that all-purpose, super sharp black turtleneck, with the neck that actually fits? From Ruti. (ruti.com) Definite keeper. Or those Jimmy Choo Uggs? Oh, yeah. Another gift — thank you, Carol. So sharp. I mean, for a granny, right?

But, no, we’re talking a different kind of sharp. The kind that actually cuts, accurately, smoothly, deeply. The kind you have to use thoughtfully, so you don’t lose a finger. The kind I don’t remember ever having in my life, until this week.

Exhibit A. Scissors that cut heavy fabric.

They’re brand new, and they work! They fly right through that tough upholstery cotton like it was muslin. I’ve been advised by people who know (thank you, Kelly) that the secret is to never let anyone else use them, and never use them on anything but thread and cloth. This will not be news to any of you sweeties who sew or do crafts, I’m sure, but it had somehow got by me until now. For scissors to really work, they need to be sharp. And when they’re sharp, they feel like a gift from the goddesses of divine domesticity: a tool with which you can do stuff. Cut stuff. Shred stuff. And don’t you love those red handles? So you can spot them making an escape from across the room? Brilliant.

Exhibit B. Brutally expensive serrated knife.

I had always assumed, wrongly, that in a serrated knife, it was mainly about the shape of that jagged edge, and that it could cut bread because it was jagged. Nope. It needs to not only be jagged, but really, really sharp. So when you touch it to the (divine) crust of that fresh loaf of walnut sourdough (from Companion Bakery, of course) you need only to wish it so, and the knife takes it from there, breezing through even the most recalcitrant walnut with barely a crumb disturbed. Want your three-seed sourdough slices elegant, gossamer, thin? This knife knows, and executes.

Had Kelly not been standing right next to me at Sur La Table when the cabinet was unlocked by the clerk, who then handed me The Knife, I might have found it difficult to remain upright as I saw the price. I was thinking the cabinet was locked to somehow keep people from grabbing the knives to use as weapons, but apparently it has more to do with their monetary value. Maybe you can tell I don’t shop much.

Now, though, I get it.

My radishes become transparent table art. Cucumber slices have never been so easy, so jewel like. Perfect onions? Garlic? All effortless, all gorgeous, because I have the right tool. A very, very sharp tool. Who knew? You, probably, but please rejoice with me as I experience this epiphany.

As I write to you on the first day of 2026, I wish you the joy of using really good, sharp, tools to do whatever you want to get done.

This is what January looks like so far at our house: rainy, cold, and hard at work under the dirt getting ready to burst forth in March. What’s going on at your house?