If it is not too painful, on the slight possibility that I have a reader from France, let me praise French country cutting boards by quoting Henry V, before the English slaughtered the French nobility at the Battle of Agincourt:
We are but warriors for the working day;
Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirched
With rainy marching in the painful field.
I have long admired French country cooking: ingredients fresh and local, used with care to prepare tasty and nourishing dishes. That admiration extends to basic kitchenware. So, many years ago, after seeing old photographs of the furnishings in a 19th century kitchen, I crafted a handful of cutting boards from oak that I had milled. These are not the fancy ones, their alternating strips of woods blended and sanded to perfection, then polished to a rich patina. Boards never used for fear of marring the surface.
Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirched
No, these are for the working day butchery of vegetables and meat, serviceable, yet with a rough charm of their own. Their texture feels like they came from something living, and their heft makes them a pleasure to hold. Like the English longbowmen, they honorably get the job done. I think they are beautiful.
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Reading this weekend: Into the Heart of Borneo (R. O’Hanlon). Think Richard Burton (the explorer) meets Monty Python, with leeches.
Sturdy, handsome, and durable — love ’em!
They ARE beautiful ‘Velveteen Rabbits’!
Very nice. Sturdy peasant stock, like me, lol. In the same vein, hand carved wooden spoons, not the mass produced chaff that are everywhere, are works of art with a purpose.
Indeed.