Going on seventeen glorious uninterrupted years in the food service industry, I have picked up a thing or two that I can apply when I am messing around in my kitchen at home.  One of those is a solid set of knife skills.  I don’t claim to be a prodigy, but I can tell the difference between a full-tang and a partial tang, as well as a dice, julienne, chifanade, and brunoise (well, at lease the first three.  Truthfully, I didn’t know what the hell a brunoise was until I Googled “knife skills” because I wanted to list one more term to hammer home that last sentence).

My wife, on the other hand, failed miserably in the restaurant biz after just a few short months (though she landed a strapping husband three years her junior there, so I guess it shouldn’t be considered a total failure.  I think…), and though she cooks most of the family meals and does so quite well, I am amazed that she has never accidentally Van Gogh-ed herself prepping some veggies for the stock pot.

I’ve tried, mind you, but whenever I offered a pointer or suggestion, I have found that the knife starts to move away from the cutting board and toward my general direction.  So I stopped that practice a long time ago, opting instead for kiss on the cheek accompanied with an encouraging “Look’s delicious, I can’t wait!” before exiting the kitchen- quick!

Then this appeared on my counter-top late last week.

I think she threw away the reciept on purpose so I couldn't take it back

I am not gonna lie.  My first inclination when I saw this in my home was to sit down and write a grandiose satirical piece paralleling the entry of this tacky gadget into my home and spokesman Vince Shlomi’s great adventure last March.  You remember Vince, a poor man’s Billy Mays who first entered the infomercial scene sporting a Madonna-style headset pimping the ShamWow before introducing us to the glories of the SlapChop.

Humble Beginnings

It seems not even the overnight successes of peddling gimmicky crap on late night TV could even get Vince laid, so on a trip to Miami our boy dabbled in the worlds oldest profession, using his new-found fortune to pick him up a hooker.  It also seems that Vinnie forgot the #1 rule in prostitution and began to kiss his new employee (did he never watch Pretty Woman?  There is no kissing!) and as soon as he stuck his tongue down her throat she chomped down on that bad boy and wouldn’t let go until he beat the crap out of her.  It’s true, with the mugshots to prove it.

Anyways, that is where I was gonna go with this piece.  That is until my wife came up to me with a dish of chopped almonds and a ridiculous grin as if she had proved a point.  I love you to death, dear, but I will stick with my knife.  I will admit one thing, however–

You were right, Vince.  My wife does love your nuts.