For as long as I have been allowed to slice my own bread, I have always used The Bread Knife. Its has been a constant in the three kitchens that I grew up in; the first in the apartment my parents lived in when I was born; the second, where I first used it myself, in the house where I did most of my growing; and the third in my parents' current home. The Bread Knife is a generic-looking tool, with no distinguishing marks or brand names. It has a white plastic handle, a long, serrated silver blade and weighs just enough so that you can feel it in your hand, but not enough to cause any discomfort while slicing.
The Bread Knife came to my parents as a wedding present; the pearlized handle suggests its intended use as official cake-cutting tool. Immediately, it was pressed into daily service, becoming The Bread Knife. Today, it sits boldly in the center of the wooden knife block, its white handle surrounded by newer Cutcos and dark Europeans. Though other bread knives have been bought, none has succeeded in replacing The Bread Knife, despite its somewhat dulled blade and quirkily bent tip (evidence of its use as a tool for some now-forgotten household repair). The Bread Knife waits patiently, un-intimidated by its fancier neighbours, knowing that it is the knife of choice for slicing bread in my parents' home. It has served us dutifully at luncheons, dinner parties and Sunday brunch. It is solid, durable and trustworthy; sharp enough to slice a bagel yet, in an accidental slip, unwilling to break through its user's skin.
It was with The Bread Knife that I learned to slice bread. (Though, I require a few good years of practice to master the art of slicing, and to finally overcome the uneven cut. Still, if I slice in a hurry, I often end up with an irregular piece.) The Bread Knife has brought much satisfaction to my carbohydrate cravings, be it challah toast with jam, or a baguette sandwich; I have even used it to slice my mom's homemade banana bread.
Despite its success as a cutting utensil, The Bread Knife has also brought its share of strife, particularly to my mother, who for a long time believed that her children would die by slicing bread. It it the source of omnipresent breadcrumbs, which has brought much stress to me. No matter how thoroughly I think I have wiped the counter, my mother always seems to find them. If the Bread Knife sliced sans crumbs, it would truly be the perfect knife.
The Bread Knife, though a seemingly random household object, has a significant place in my family's kitchen, and hearts. It has been with us literally through thick and thin, slicing bread in good times and bad.
Storm King is one of the best named (and most interesting) art centers I have ever had the pleasure of visiting. The Storm King Art Center is about an hour north of New York City, in the Hudson Valley. The Art Center's permanent collection of sculpture dates from 1945 to the present. It is a magical place where massive and not so massive, industrial and not so industrial (there is a wall made by British wallers) man-made objects are both in harmony and juxtaposition (my favorite!) with rolling hills, wide open fields and enchanted woodlands.
