Some paring knives feel alien and stiff, and not because they’re dull; some have a sense of agility, as if they were an extension of your hand. I’m thinking of Western paring knives. Japanese petty knives, for instance, especially the smaller ones, are paring knives, but they form another world. My two favorite paring knives, which I had for decades, both disappeared, one mysteriously a few years ago and the other more recently, probably swept into a mass of vegetation and composted. As I hesitated over a replacement, we got by for weeks with a boning knife and a couple of cheap knives from the back of the drawer. They didn’t feel like part of anyone’s hand.By Edward Behr
Throwaway paring knives, used in some pro kitchens, are sold by the box. You can do much worse. Out of curiosity I bought a $1.95 paring knife at Walmart. Its bulging, comfortable red plastic handle would keep it out of the compost, but the thick, stubby blade is awkward for almost any purpose.
A thinner blade binds less and doesn’t crack a crisp carrot; a degree of narrowness gives more sense of agility; and a slight curve ensures contact with the cutting board, while a perfectly straight blade makes contact only at the tip, unless you hold it precisely parallel to the board. Most of my knives are made of staining steel, what’s usually called “high-carbon,” although stainless-steel knives are actually high-carbon too. The staining steel is easier to sharpen, but more and more I opt for stainless steel, to avoid the chance that a staining blade, cutting something even slightly acidic, may leave a metallic taste. It helps to wipe the blade between cuts, but that’s fussy, and with almost anything other than bread, you have to wash and dry the staining metal right away to avoid rust.
Probably most cooks prefer a shorter blade — 3½ inches (9 cm) or less — because it gives more control. But I like a new paring knife with a 4-inch (10-cm) blade, thinking ahead to the gradual shrinkage from sharpening. One of the knives I lost started out twice as long as it ended up. (I also simply like longer knives. To trim the tops and quarter tomatoes for canning, I use a chef’s knife with a heavy stainless blade that’s currently just over 10½ inches; it passes through the fruit like butter.)
It’s reassuring when a paring knife has a little weight. That comes from a full tang, referring to the part of the blade that enters the handle. With a full one you can see the metal all around; rivets hold the pieces together. Weight also comes from a bolster, if there is one. A bolster is the thick butt that is part of the metal of some blades and stiffens them before they enter the handle, or the word can refer to a pair of thick pieces of metal that on some knives surround the tang as it enters the handle. A bolster that’s physically part of the butt of a wide blade can protect your finger, but do you want a paring knife with a wide blade? And a bolster adds to the work of sharpening, because sooner or later you have to not just sharpen the blade but also reduce the bolster, or you end up with an arced blade whose middle doesn’t touch the cutting board. You can grind a bolster with the right power tool, or you can reduce it fairly quickly with a metal file: lay the file flat on a work surface and draw the bolster toward you.
I rule out serrated paring knives, although they’re practical for people who never sharpen their knives or have them sharpened. The cuts aren’t as clean and effortless, but the protected minicurves stay sharp a long time. Serrated edges can in fact be sharpened; it’s just more trouble.
There’s also a paring knife variation called a bird’s beak (bec d’oiseau), whose curved blade follows the shape of spherical fruits and vegetables when you peel. It’s also used for turning — giving carrots or potatoes, for instance, the six- or seven-sided shapes of classical French cuisine. But turning vegetables is museum work, and if you do it, a regular blade turns nearly as well.
Most knives are stamped out of a sheet of metal; forged blades cost more. The prices of some forged kitchen knives are very high, even stratospheric for extremely skilled hand work, driven by the appreciation of certain professionals and collectors. You definitely don’t need a costly knife, and it’s clear that there’s no best knife, paring or otherwise. Part of what makes any knife useful is familiarity; the most effective way to use it becomes instinctive.
Some nonluxury options are:
Victorinox, famous for its Swiss Army knives, makes a widely used inexpensive “Classic” stainless paring knife with a plastic handle in a choice of colors. A drawback, maybe, is that the handle’s thinness and pebbled texture is a steady reminder that it’s an economy product. On the company’s US website, the 3-inch (8-cm) is $6.99, and the 4-inch (10-cm) is $8.99, plus shipping.
Similarly priced are paring knives made by Opinel, from France, famous for its folding knives with beechwood handles. Opinel’s “Essential” paring knives come only in a 4-inch (10-cm) length, with blades slightly less tapered than those of the Victorinox. The stainless plastic-handled version, with a mere trace of a bolster and a choice of handle colors, is $8.90 from the US website. A stainless wooden-handled version, also in a choice of colors, is $10.90. The staining version, labeled “carbone,” with light brown wooden handles, is sold in a box of two, for $20. All prices plus shipping.
For a step upward, with a little more weight and a slightly more tapered blade, the French firm Au Sabot makes 4-inch full-tang knives with rounded wooden handles, narrow but sufficient. One has a stainless blade, a brass bolster, and a camwood handle, and was listed at $19 at Bernal Cutlery in San Francisco (which has an above-average range of kitchen knife choices); the other has a staining blade, a stainless bolster, and a bubinga wood handle and was listed at $22, plus shipping. But they’re out of stock at the moment. A shipment from Au Sabot has been expected for some time, and it’s not clear how soon it will arrive. Prices are likely to rise at least a little.
If you’d rather have a shorter, firmer blade, wider in proportion to its length, consider the 3-inch forged “Authentique” paring knife from K Sabatier, with an integral bolster, riveted full tang, and a high-quality black plastic handle. The cost from Bernal Cutlery, where the knife is in stock, is $38 plus shipping. ●
From issue 109The post Resources: Paring Knives appeared first on The Art of Eating Magazine.