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United States, North Carolina, Carrboro, English, Paul, Male, 56-60, All Music, All Food.

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Thursday, December 12, 2002

I stopped by Williams-Sonoma at Southpointe (that "e" on the end is what makes it extra cool, eh?) Mall tonight to check on an old cooking buddy who was recently laid off at my place of employment. He wasn't there. Had I gone to the correct Williams-Sonoma at Crabtree Mall in Raleigh, he probably would have been there. Some friends at work had seen him there and passed the word along. He has completely abandoned the computer world and is career-shifting into catering. Making the right moves, accumulating equipment, taking oodles of courses and training. Though I didn't see him, I heard about him. A couple was checking out knife sharpeners and the salesperson advised against any electric ones, but told them to check with a guy at the Raleigh store who is an expert on knives and sharpening. That would be Warren. People at work used to bring their knives in to him to be returned razor sharp. He knows his knives and knows how to use them in the kitchen. He buys expensive knives and, with a trained eye,  hones them to surgical precision. I differ with him philosophically. I buy cheap knives with comfortable handles. I use a Chef's Choice 3-stage electric sharpener that takes a minute to put a magnetically-imposed proper angle on both sides, about once every 6 months. Before each use, I manually hone the edge "up in the air" (you'll see all sorts of diagrams on how to do it the right way) with a ceramic "stick". The "whap, whap whap" accelerando is musical and, if you listen closely, you can tell by the rasping sound when the knife is done. I burn up a lot of cheap knives, Warren preserves a few expensive ones. Neither of us has cut off a finger. At least not our own. 5:50:20 PM    comment []

I have established a spiritual bond with my portobello mushroom kit. The surface is now thoroughly decorated with mini-mushroom caps, ranging in size from LeSueur® Early June Peas (many) to Smith Brothers Cough Drops (just a few). The larger ones are more conversational and are beginning to form distinct political opinions, even before they've mastered basic skills such as reading and math. The smaller ones just chirp in unison like Bernard Herrmann's taut fiddles in the shower scene, begging for the mist I dole out prudently as their beneficent god-figure. The large ones also seem to be emulating my facial features on their caps, and when I inspect the growing surface, I sometimes get the eerie impression I am staring into a mirror through a fly's eye. "Larry", who appears to be their leader, has asked me to send his best to everyone on the internet and I'll do my best to comply. I've denied his request for materials to build a temple in my honor and, frankly, I doubt he understands I intend to eat him and his entire constituency as soon as they reach adulthood. 2:47:39 AM    comment []