From the perfect peeler to the pathetic garlic press, Katrina Meynink rummages through her crowded kitchen drawer to find those that cut it, and those that don’t.
In the kitchen, as in life, I have one iron-clad rule: make it multipurpose.
My frying pan, for instance, not only cooks me a decent fried egg, but it can be used to prevent home invasions and wayward cockroaches. It’s fit for use. It gets to stay. But “the third drawer down”? The one we all have that is spewing forth all kinds of gadgets for eternity? That needs a Marie Kondo exercise in advanced sorting.
Let’s play the kitchen equivalent of Snog, Marry, Avoid with a game I call Keep, Covet, Kill.
Keep
Y Peeler
Let’s hear it for the left-handers: finally, a tool that doesn’t punish us for existing. This ambidextrous tool of goodness glides over vegetables, chocolate and cheeses alike without poor maligned lefties performing wrist gymnastics just to peel a carrot. The Y peeler is your slick, stainless-steel sidekick. Don’t just keep, but worship.
Microplane
My specification here – the wide ones. Why so narrow, so slim? I love a fine grate juxtaposed by a wide berth girth. I am a woman of contrasts. Garlic, citrus, seeded aromatics, parmesan. The list is long and versatile for this indispensable workhorse. Five stars.
Four-cup measuring jug
Preferably glass. With etched measurements. Not the flaky kind that disappear after one hot wash cycle and leave you measuring either half a cup of olive oil or pouring a fat fire. How could you tell? The right jug handles hot, cold, wet and dry, soup and sauce with the kind of calm efficiency and accuracy I dream of.
Steel tongs
Tongs are your third hand in the kitchen, but with better reach. They flip, they grab, they poke, they double as makeshift salad servers. They even snap dramatically to help get your point across during inflamed conversations fuelled by glasses of pet nat. Just ensure they are the steel version, not silicon-coated mistakes that are the culinary equivalent of a limp handshake – all promise, no grip.
Covet
Chef’s knife
Not the value knife pack masquerading as kitchen knives. I am referring to the kind that tend to cost a lot because of their quality and heft of materials. The singular chef’s knife. A stellar all-rounder that is gaspingly sharp and weighted perfectly in the heel. A good knife is the cooking equivalent of a pin in a map that shouts, “You are here”. It is confident and powerful in all the right ways.
A very good balloon whisk
Let’s make it a copper one for an extra touch of fance. And oversized for added drama. And let’s not forget a handle with weight and heft. These bad boys will whip egg whites into submission, and omelettes to fluffy. Nothing else will create such voluptuous cloudlike peaks and aeration, nor will it provide the deep satisfaction of owning something so beautiful that it looks as if it belongs in a mood-lit Parisian patisserie.
A large wooden chopping board
Big, robust – an item that bears the weight of the worst weeknight dinners and the most magical Sunday roasts. I want a timber board that lasts. One with a broad work surface that gives plenty of room to chop and get organised. One that doesn’t dull the blade of my knife nor make the sound of nails down a blackboard while I chop. Plus, unlike plastic, wood has natural antibacterial properties. It’s not just a board. It’s a mood. And I am here for it until the end of my days.
Kill
Batter dispenser jugs
I know. Where is my sense of adventure? My spirit of improvisation? But what the actual? This is not a tool. It’s a crime scene, and the culinary cave dive clean required post-use firmly puts this weird gadget in the no-go zone. Use a spoon. Or a ladle. It costs less and is a solid reminder that you don’t need this jug, you need self-respect.
Corn strippers
Designed solely to remove the kernels from ears of corn. I acknowledge a love for the stage and the kernel-stripping joy we could have together but I’m keeping my dignity. We don’t need this cry for help moonlighting as a tool. Use a knife. Put the stripper down. Back away.
Spoon rests
I know they look pretty, perfect for the social media age. But they are the kitchen equivalent of scatter cushions – there to look good but serve no purpose. No one is madly cooking, stirring with abandon, only to remove the spoon and place it gently on a rest. No – the spoon is plonked on a bench, via the mouth, with joyful abandon. As it should be.
The garlic press
A tool of culinary ambition that promises to get garlic ready for multiple recipes. But speed is where it ends. Once you factor in the hinge orientation for decent leverage, the difficulty in cleaning, and the comfort of the handles, we’re too exhausted to even consider the size of the grate screen. Because yes, it does matter.
When the cellular walls of garlic are compressed, two enzymes come into contact with each other and form a compound known as allicin. This is what gives garlic its pungent aroma. It’s a palate stripper. It robs garlic of its soul, its texture, its sweetness and that sensual crush between knife and board. And why would we rob ourselves of the glorious swishing noise garlic makes as it juices and grates across a mandolin?
The best recipes from Australia’s leading chefs straight to your inbox.
