Turns out Daddy was right

For as long as I can remember my dad has always been paranoid about kitchen knives. At home he would always make sure that the knives were put as far away from anyone's reach as possible. As a young girl my meat was always cut for me and I was never supposed to touch the knives. As I grew older I began to rebel against my dad and his knife issues, it bothered me that every time I needed a steak knife I had to go to great limits to reach one. The process went a little like this:

1. Find a chair (because I'm ridiculously short)
2. Stand on the chair
3. Reach into the cabinet where the secret knives were and get one
4. Get down from chair
5. Put chair back

As you can see this is way too much effort for a teenager.

As I grew older and began cooking I always dreamed of the day when I could chop things with a real knife. I always felt sad when I watched cooking shows and saw the master chefs with their awesome knives. Needless to say when I got engaged the first thing I registered for was a fancy set of knives.

The wedding came and went and still no knives, until one day on a trip to make returns at Bed Bath and Beyond (this reminds me, at some point I need to blog about my need to return things), husband and I purchased THE KNIVES. I took time to carefully unwrap every single knife, trying to learn its name and purpose, and then carefully placing it in its spot in the knife block. It was one of the best wedding presents ever - right next to the panini maker and all my glorious china.

They sure are a beauty!

The knives are amazing, and they sure have made me feel like a master chef. That was until the inevitable happened this past Friday night. I received knife cut #1 while slicing a mango for husband. I guess I was so excited for husband to try my most cherished tropical fruit that I was not paying as close attention to my slicing knife as I thought.

It wasn't a fatal cut, but it really hurt my cooking ego and made me mad that after all Daddy was right, knifes are bad.