Confession: I love any excuse to buy myself a new piece of kitchen equipment. It could be something as small as the Kuhn Rikon vegetable peeler that all the chefs have in their toolboxes (and that I therefor had to have), or as luxurious as the stainless-steel All-Clad I recently ordered that is but a UPS delivery away. There’s just something about getting this stuff that, unlike a new pair of shoes or another tube of lip gloss, makes me feel like I am committing to my life, moving forward in ways that run way deeper than the significance of the item itself.
Today, cooking with Matt, I made orata, a whole fish that, at Mozza, is stuffed with herbs, wrapped in a fig leaf, and charred on the grill. Among the many pleasures that I already knew this dish to offer, came the added bonus that in order to make it at home, he explained, which make I must, I get–I mean have–to have a fish knife. “Something very sharp and delicate and slender,” he said, looking lovingly along the backbone of his before he began the sushi-master like task of taking the bones out of this animal and still leaving it looking like a fish. I didn’t even know such a knife existed, but now that I do it’s like I can’t figure out how I’ll live without one. The beauty pictured above, by Shun, is the one I like. Too bad it’s not my birthday.