After spending 45 minutes recently cubing some sinewy pork with a dull knife, I decided to invest in a dreamy kitchen tool: a knife that cuts. After watching a fortuitous episode of Alton Brown’s Good Eats on knife basics and taking Cook’s Illustrated’s recommendation, I purchased the Forschner Fibrox 8-inch chef’s knife for less than $30. It worked so effectively that it sliced my finger before I even had it out of the packaging.
Mind you, the packaging itself—that unforgiving plastic aimed to maim—was no picnic either. After ten minutes of intermittent bleeding and chopping, I realized I had what amounted to a giant paper cut, a wound that looks a lot worse when your blood is dripping onto whitish celeriac (which turned out to be a veggie as bland as its color, by the way), and stopped hyperventilating. I must say, it’s a marvelous knife—a very smooth slicer even when battling the tough root, but now I’m afraid of it. I’m afraid to wash it, let alone use it again, and I’m especially wary of storing it until I have a proper cover. I suppose I’ll have to invest in a sharpener as well, but right now, I can confirm that’s it’s super sharp. To make it worse, it’s still sitting on the cutting board and looking not-at-all guilty.
This is the perpetrator: