So the first thing we were told to get for our cooking class was a really good chef’s knife. I am not embarrassed to admit that I am completely in love with my knife. I tried like 15 of them and when I picked it up I knew it was the one. For real. If a unicorn, Jesus and a great white shark got together and made a high-carbon steel baby, it would be this knife. That’s how awesome it is.
Side note – I am no stranger to inappropriate attachment to inanimate objects. I felt this way when I got my first iPhone. Per this conversation I had with my sister:
Me: OMFG. I love this iPhone more than I could possibly love a human child.
Lex: You do not. If there was a fire, and you had to save either your iPhone or a baby, which would you save?
Me: [long pause] Do I know the baby?
Me: What!?!? I mean if it was YOUR future baby then I would totally save it. But if it’s just like a neighbor’s baby then…I’d have to say iPhone.
Me: Can the baby manage my calendar, navigate me out of the ravine, tell me the weather *and* locate the nearest grande half-sweet nonfat extra-whip pumpkin spice latte, while it serenades me with Gaga and entertains me with Tetris? No. It cannot.
Lex: Fair point.
Me: Plus, that neighbor baby probably kept me up with its crying all the time anyway.
Anyway. Back to cooking.
So our first class we made Tuscan bean salad. Mine was awesome. I’d like to say that the magic ingredient was love, but I managed to cut my finger like 8 minutes into the lesson, so I’m pretty sure the magic ingredient was finger blood.
If I were a dude this is where I would post a pic of my grotesque injury, but I like you all too much for that so you’ll just have to trust that it was impressively badass. Here’s my salad instead.