James grew up on an Ozarks farm where tools like axes and picks were still used in the daily routine and the blades of stockman's pocketknives served their original functions. Receiving his first pocketknife at age four he got it open by himself nearly a year later and spent his formative years wandering the woods with a succession of ever larger knives, a book of matches and a rifle.
A veteran of Vietnam, James also served in Alaska during a stint in the Army, receiving his first intensive culinary training by setting a record for extra KP at Ft. Richardson.
Settling in the Pacific Northwest after his discharge, James crewed on sailing yachts in local races, backpacked hundreds of miles of mountain trails in search of good trout fishing, and occasionally attended college.
His first serious job as a civilian resulted from answering a Seattle Post Intelligencer want ad requesting someone who could lift 120 pounds repeatedly and wasn't afraid of fire. James apprenticed to John Frazier -- the most knowledgeable traditional foundryman in North America at that time -- for the next six years.
Returning to the Ozarks James made his living by growing ginseng on a hand-terraced wooded hillside and selling handmade wood turnery, furniture, sculpture and architectural carvings. James harvested trees from his own land, processing logs into posts and beams and turnery billets with saws, axes, froes and planes. Since many tools he needed were no longer available, James built his own forge from a barbeque grill, a vacuum cleaner and a 55 gallon steel drum, found a chunk of railroad track for his first anvil, and taught himself blacksmithing -- creating his own knives and tools from scrap steel and sweat.
Changing economic pressures eventually forced James back to the restaurant industry in Branson, Missouri, and later to even more success as a maintenance engineer for one of Branson's largest condominium resorts. Finally escaping to Indiana, James now makes his living telling true stories as a freelance writer.
Paring knives are often the worst knives in a kitchen. We use them for such ordinary tasks that it’s easy to ignore this basic rule: a good knife makes the work go faster. Anything that makes peeling a sack of onions (or even just one) faster is a friend of mine.
The Wusthof Classic 3.5″ blade paring knife is one of those friendly blades. The durable synthetic handle fits the hand comfortably, easing the cramps you get from repetitive work and making even ordinary kitchen chores more pleasant. The full tang stainless steel and strong riveted assembly add up to a tool that lasts. One investment should be enough for a lifetime, unless a friend talks you out of it.
The stainless alloy Wusthof chooses offers excellent edge holding qualities–the grind is a Western style, wider and in some ways stronger than Japanese designs. Cooks raised in Western traditions often find it more natural to use. Honing with a sharpening steel, one of the easiest ways to maintain a good edge, doesn’t even apply to some Japanese blades (requiring stones). That simple approach–the sharpening steel–is all that’s needed with this Classic.
As for strength and balance, one user even put the Wusthof Classic in his knife throwing act–of the major brands he tested, Wusthof was the only kitchen knife that survived.
Even though the Classic is dishwasher safe, don’t do that to it. Stainless steel that will hold a fine edge will also gradually erode in machine washing chemicals, as will the rivets in the handle. For a tiny bit of hand care you get a great long lasting knife. If the Army had given me the Classic when I peeled my first five sacks of potatoes, I’d have been happier. Not happy, but happier.
James grew up on an Ozarks farm where tools like axes and picks were still used in the daily routine and the blades of stockman's pocketknives served their original functions. Receiving his first pocketknife at age four he got it open by himself nearly a year later and spent his formative years wandering the woods with a succession of ever larger knives, a book of matches and a rifle.
A veteran of Vietnam, James also served in Alaska during a stint in the Army, receiving his first intensive culinary training by setting a record for extra KP at Ft. Richardson.
Settling in the Pacific Northwest after his discharge, James crewed on sailing yachts in local races, backpacked hundreds of miles of mountain trails in search of good trout fishing, and occasionally attended college.
His first serious job as a civilian resulted from answering a Seattle Post Intelligencer want ad requesting someone who could lift 120 pounds repeatedly and wasn't afraid of fire. James apprenticed to John Frazier -- the most knowledgeable traditional foundryman in North America at that time -- for the next six years.
Returning to the Ozarks James made his living by growing ginseng on a hand-terraced wooded hillside and selling handmade wood turnery, furniture, sculpture and architectural carvings. James harvested trees from his own land, processing logs into posts and beams and turnery billets with saws, axes, froes and planes. Since many tools he needed were no longer available, James built his own forge from a barbeque grill, a vacuum cleaner and a 55 gallon steel drum, found a chunk of railroad track for his first anvil, and taught himself blacksmithing -- creating his own knives and tools from scrap steel and sweat.
Changing economic pressures eventually forced James back to the restaurant industry in Branson, Missouri, and later to even more success as a maintenance engineer for one of Branson's largest condominium resorts. Finally escaping to Indiana, James now makes his living telling true stories as a freelance writer.
The Diamond Edge Pro knife and scissors sharpener from Smith Abrasives combines electric and manual sharpening systems for quick and accurate refurbishing of knives...
Paring knives are often the worst knives in a kitchen. We use them for such ordinary tasks that it’s easy to ignore this basic rule: a good knife makes the work go faster. Anything that makes peeling a sack of onions (or even just one) faster is a friend of mine.
