22 Oct 2023 | Vol 2 Issue 29
While the last issue featured the phrase amuse bouche, consider this weekβs edition more an actual amuse bouche, before this column returns proper next week with added vim.
Back in September I was asked to contribute a prized possession for the Objet newsletter.
Objet being an app for buying better, which I've mentioned a few times in previous posts β on luggage, desire, death, and responsibility and on stuff.
You can read it in itβs original form at objet.substack.com/p/075-who-here-loves-cooking-weve-got
Or if you're too lazy to click, right here...
What's the backstory of this object?
Whether it's coincidence or not, as well as being a treasured possession, it's also I think the object I've owned the longest. It's one of the two objects I can remember from when I still lived as a teenager with my mother.
Gifted to me as a moving-out present, or maybe I just took it with me. I can't remember explicitly being given it, nor can I think of a time when I didn't have it.
There's obvious sentimental value, connecting directly to my upbringing, and to my mother distilling in me my great passion for food. If you are a young man, the only way to continue experiencing great food once you've left home, is to learn to cook; and the first tool you need to cook is a knife.
I am a great believer in the verisimilitude of an object. Its universal truth, its essence in the simplest form, its archetype. If you ask someone to draw a tap, they will most likely produce something with a curved spout, four handles, and a letter C or H on the top. But look at the tap in their home, and it's likely to resemble nothing like the tap they drew. The Sabatier knife however, is exactly how I would sketch one.
It is quintessential. Form follows function. Its faults β compared to say a welded, seemingly one-piece stainless steel Japanese knife β are what makes it loved, as if it's a living thing. It has a wooden handle, so can't be placed in a dishwasher. It has a steel blade which is prone to rust if you don't dry it after washing.
It requires care, but it is loyal. I've had it for over forty years. It sharpens to a razor-like edge. The wooden handle never slips in my hand when wet. It has a beautiful patina, it says "I have hung in the kitchen, keeping company with steaming stockpots, spitting grills, rubbing shoulders with the oiled, the dried, the salted, and the pickled. Friend to all". Like a modest but highly skilled tailor, dressing each ingredient perfectly, ready for the pot.
It's also forgiving. I have to confess that the photo is not of my beloved Sabatier. Mine has a small notch in the blade. It's such a trusted tool that I even use it to strip the plastic shielding when wiring up lamps and plugs. Or did. Until I cut through a live cable, caused a lot of sparks and melted the small notch in it. I don't trim wires with it anymore. Sharpening over the years has removed most of the roughness from the indent, but there's enough irregularity left that it can also function as a bread knife, with its single serration.
Francis Ponge in his delightful mediation on "The Voice of Things" talks of the candle, the crate, the plate. I am certain that if he had included The Knife amongst the inventory, he would have described a Sabatier kitchen knife. Should he have dined at my house, the knife may even have been eulogised having a small notch midway in its subtly bowed blade, the curve rendered from years of honing.
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I also contributed a recipeβ¦
Preserved lemon and olives vegetable stew
Ingredients:
3tbsp olive oil
2 red onions, thinly sliced
3 garlic cloves
Β½tsp saffron, soaked in a little warm water
2tsp ground ginger
1tsp cinnamon
Juice of a lemon
2 preserved lemons
2tbsp chopped parsley
Small bunch of fresh coriander
2 large potatoes
3 large carrots
1 cup of olives
Adapted from a chicken tagine recipe to make a vegetable stew bold enough to win dedicated carnivores over.
Instructions:
1. Scoop the flesh of the preserved lemons out and roughly chop, discarding the pips. Thinly slice the peel. Peel and cut the potatoes into roast potato sized chunks, peel and bias slice the carrots. Quantities are guided by your hunger and wether you want left overs in the fridge.
2. If you can be arsed, pinch the leaves off the stems from half the bunch of coriander (I find this very meditative).
3. For the olives I like Castelvetrano olives (also called Nocellara del Belice), or Tunisian mixed ones preserved in oil (not brine) and flavoured with herbs, garlic, pickles. Basically get the tastiest olives you can. Not tinned in brine.
4. Heat the oil in a heavy-bottomed pan on a low heat, fry the onion. Mash the garlic with Β½tsp salt and add to the pan.
5. Sprinkle over the ginger, saffron water and cinnamon, followed by the lemon juice, the coarsely chopped pulp and rind of the preserved lemons. Add the parsley and 2tbsp chopped coriander (the half with the stalks still attached) and toss it all together well.
6. Add the potatoes, carrots and olives, and cover with Massel's chicken stock. Honestly, their vegan chicken (style) stock is a game changer. Cover tightly and simmer until the potato is cooked through.
7. Serve in bowls, season to taste and garnish with the remaining de-stemmed and chopped coriander.
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Your piece led me to take all the sabatiers I inherited of the wall and photograph them. Worth contemplating. Nice
thanks for sharing π€ππ