I moved out into my own flat on my 18th Birthday (Currently 24 years ago, scary!)
In the year previous to this I started to collect bits and bobs in preparation, I had a small cupboard in my bedroom which I guess turned into an old fashioned hope chest. One of the first things I purchased (possibly THE first) was a set of Kitchen Devil knives. This set of knives saw me through a failed engagment and some dark dark times. But mostly, through my 20 year marriage (or as Sir says 18 1/2 year as the previous year and a half of engagment don’t count!) and the lives of my two growing sons. I have purchased several other sets of knives during this time but they always end up being unused in a box as I only EVER use my Kitchen Devils.
It’s funny how attached you become to something isn’t it. It becomes an extension of yourself. Cutting up and peeling veg with any other knife is just wrong and feels wrong and IS WRONG and I go to extreme lengths to make sure that I have my usual knife. Sad eh!
But then this morning (whiles cutting up a swede for stew) this happened!
I fired off the photograph and a sad emote to Sir who says he’ll look at it and do what he can. (He’s super handy so will no doubt do something with it, probably make a new handle) But I have to cook tomorrow? So have whizzed off and ordered it’s modern replacement. Concerning I know as there is a good chance that it won’t be the same but it’s worth a go isn’t it.
I shall let you know how I get on.