Always Cut Away

When I was younger, I was a member of the Boy Scouts for some time. I didn't stay on very long, I didn't earn my Eagle badge - the whole thing felt a bit too military for me, and with strong Christian overtones that made me a bit uncomfortable as a nonbeliever. Also, I really like staying indoors, with central air, electricity, and video games, so the whole outdoors survival thing was a bit lost on me. Anyway, I forgot most of what I was taught in the Scouts, but I always remembered one instruction that was passed to me about knives, which was to always cut away from yourself.

I remembered this so well, for two reasons I think. First, is that it just seems reasonable - of course the knife should move away, it's sharp. Cutting towards oneself is absurd. Secondly, I don't deal well with mental imagery of injury and blood, and the potential (wildly exaggerated in my head) injuries that could result from mishandling a knife have, I suppose, scared me into remembering this simple instruction.

When cooking, of course, we make heavy use of very sharp (if you take care of them properly, that is) knives, so it's important to take this bit of Scout advice to the kitchen. It's easy to forget sometimes that the kitchen is full of devices designed expressly to damage meaty tissue (like your body), whether by laceration, abrasion, burning, boiling, or irradiating. Every day, we play with knives over a fire. Proper handling of a knife, then, is essential to good kitchen practice, and so I say, do as the Boy Scouts, and always cut away.

Because if you don't, you might sever a tendon in your thumb, like this fool of a blogger did in late October while trying to carve a pumpkin. When you factor in medical expenses for the emergency sutures and the surgery to repair the tendon, this was easily the most expensive jack-o-lantern I have ever carved. Failure to cut away is also part of the reason there haven't been posts in a while - for a long time, I could only type with one hand, I couldn't really do much of anything in a kitchen, and Mariam was busy doing all the two-handed tasks around the house that I could no longer really help with. You never realize how important your off-hand is until you can't use it anymore.

My hand is more or less in order now, save for some ongoing complications with my skin being irritated and itching around the surgical scar. The tendon is pretty much in full working order now, however, and my hand now need not reside in a ridiculous, cumbersome splint that renders it all but completely useless. Expect soon a number of posts detailing the cookies and dinner we made for Christmas, unfortunately late, but very, very early for next year's preparations.

Cut safe.