No More Butcher Knives

Butcher KnifeDo I ever have egg on my face! For years, I have been extolling the virtues of the butcher knife for culinary purposes. No kitchen is complete without one of these knives; or so I thought. Just today, after years of pestering my sister about the lack of a butcher knife in her kitchen, it came to a head. “What is a butcher knife,” she asked. After several minutes of stammering and inept attempts at mime resulting only in bruised knuckles, I turned to the Internet. It was then that I saw just how ill-defined a term “butcher knife” is. Just check out the image on the left.

The dictionary definitions are especially useless in this matter. For example, Dictionary.com defines a butcher knife as: “a large, very sharp knife for cutting or trimming meat”—somehow the modifier “very sharp” doesn’t seem to make sense; is there an “idiot’s knife”, defined as “a large, very dull knife for kitchen accidents”? Typical of a dictionary: unhelpful in practical matters.

Most butcher knives do look very much like the knives that I have always used. In fact, most people would say that the image above looks more like a cleaver and that the following image is a butcher knife:

Chef's Knife

But this is not a butcher knife; it is a chef’s knife. (Note how the former refers to the verb rather than the noun butcher—interesting, don’t you think?) This is what I have always thought of as a butcher knife. In point of fact, I have always thought that a butcher knife was any large, relatively triangularly shaped knife that allows one to chop ingredients without bumping one’s knuckles on the counter top. Now I know better.

Even with a chef’s knife, one can get into trouble. There are two kinds of chef’s knives: German and French. (This is amusing when one knows that the chef’s knife is often referred to as the French Knife. Thus, one might be using a German French knife or a French French knife. Imagine the problems the owner of the latter would have had at the start of the Iraq War: “No, no. It’s a Freedom Freedom knife.”) The German version—pictured above—has a rounder tip, so that it can be used more easily with a “rocking” cut: up and down. The French version is straighter and is used by pulling the knife toward the chef’s body: back and forth.

There is a Japanese knife called a Santoku, which I have called a butcher knife during my ignorant youth (that is, before about noon today).

Santoku Knife

It differs from the Chef’s Knife, primarily by having a straight edge—it is closer to the French Chef’s Knife. In general, I have not liked these knives as much. However, I have learned (thanks to a brief, unreferenced article on Wikipedia) that these knives are particularly good for people with small hands. Also: a skilled chef may do more precise cutting with the Santoku. As a result, I believe my past displeasure stems from unfamiliarity. The next knife I buy will be a Santoku. And, of course, I will write about it here. (Can you stand the excitement?)

Update

It has been over a year since I wrote this. During this time period I have used several Santoku knives. The result: I’ve given up on them. I have small hands, and yet, I do not find them particular good. I just don’t find them useful. A chef’s knife, a paring knife, a bread knife: all of these are essential. It is never the case that I need a Santoku. In fact, I only use my Santoku when everything else is dirty and I need a knife for something I could just as easily do with a steak knife.

Everything Interesting for Everyone Interesting

In grad school, I had—we all had—the most boring professor on the planet: Dr. Greene (the extra ‘e’ did not help). He taught the graduate seminar in theoretical mechanics, and through this course was the derision of almost all the physics student body. “If he were slightly less irrelevant,” people would say, “he might be able to teach classical mechanics.” For those not steeped in the ways of the upper echelon of physics education, graduate level classical mechanics is generally considered of little value: a course of little practical interest—as measured in a field where little has much practical interest. In fact, few physics programs require it any more. It is a wanker course, and that made Dr. Greene a third-degree wanker: the teacher of a course that built on a wanker course.

Dr. Greene had a religious reverence for the Lagrangian—which, although sounding like a runny French cheese, is in fact, just a system’s kinetic energy minus its potential energy. This is all very “first term graduate school” of course—even upper division undergraduate. Dr. Greene took the concept to new levels, however—fascinated, as he was, endlessly, with its quirks, especially as applied to General Relativity.

In his mid-50s, Dr. Greene had the same excitement one sees in high school nerds who are (by definition) so excited by their interests—be they role-playing games or rocket building—that they don’t realize how uncool they and their interests are. Greene would approach hyperventilation during his more “exciting” derivations and qualitative lectures. This made us ridicule him all the more.

We were aware, of course, that most people would find our interests boring. We had all been labeled the same way. Part of our ridicule of Dr. Greene came from our own positions as second-tier nerds. We needed to find someone worse than us—as if life were graded on a curve. “Sure I killed my wife, but look at that guy: he killed his kids too!” As a result, I can give us all a little slack: we were young and insecure. But there was a much more important issue at work.

Over the years, it gradually dawned on me that Dr. Greene was not boring. But he had some very boring students. His fascination with obscure topics in mathematical physics was justified; we were just too boring to see it. In the final analysis, Greene was the winner—he was happy tinkering around under the hood of the Lagrangian, whether without company or with (and I’m sure he had the occasional companion). We were the ones who wasted thirty hours during which we could have been enthralled.

I am not like Dr. Greene in that he was a specialist and I am a generalist; my passions are promiscuous: thin and broad. However, we share the same excitement about things we really should know are boring. But I am happy that way, and I’m sure he was too. I know there are boring things in the world: people who can’t share my fascinations. But even they’re pretty interesting in that fact; don’t you think?

Recycled Genius

RecycleI’m in the process of updating the look of the site. And in the process I will be getting rid of this pinned post, for reasons that will become clear later. I’m hoping I can add something like it to the sidebar. Anyway, the change should take place in the next week.

Also: I’m really sick today. I have the 11:05 post scheduled. But I haven’t done either of the morning posts, and may not get to them.