Everyone says they like good design. It’s a simple, intrinsic property of man-made objects and being able to construct tools has kept us one up on the animal kingdom for a good long while now. Good design is easy to appreciate, usually without needing to be too specific, just that the object does what it’s designed to do and does it well.
Which brings me to potato peelers. They’re a humble little gadget that came out of the Industrial Revolution in a few different styles, and having worked as a chef for a decade now I have a certain appreciation for them. When you’ve got 40 kilograms of potatos to get through you begin to appreciate a well-made peeler. Growing up in Australia meant I was used to the almost-disposable plastic ones about the size of a small comb with a partially-swivelling stainless steel blade. They were invented in 1947 by a Melbourne company called Dalsonware, and dubbed the “Dalson Classic Aussie Peeler”. By and large they’re the most common peelers found in kitchens in Australia.
In 2012, this is inexcusable. As human civilisation continues its path of technological advancement, using one of these flimsy pieces of garbage in the kitchen is like refusing to admit having thumbs makes life easier. Like smearing the refridgerator with your own feces to leave your housemate a note instead of using a pen. It is a complete refusal to participate in a reasonable, objective consideration of your daily life and how you might improve it, the capability to do so being one of the fundamental differences between humans and animals. Dolphins, for all their intelligence, probably aren’t too fussed about coming up with different ways to eat a fish. They mostly just eat the fucking things.
1947 was an interesting year for potato peelers. As Dalson’s Classic Aussie Peeler was spreading through kitchens Down Under like myxomatoid rodents that refuse to die, a man named Alfred Neweczerzal created the REX peeler in Switzerland. This beautifully simple, ergonomic design is not only more comfortable to use, the sturdy, all-metal construction means it doesn’t break all the time like a certain shitty plastic number. Instead of gripping a handle that feels like it’s about to break right out of the packet and hoping for the best, all it requires is a light grip between thumb and forefingers and the razor-sharp carbon steel blade does the rest.
The Swiss know good design. Apparently, they even design their country to turn into an impenetrable fortress in the event of war by rigging all roads into Switzerland with explosives as they build them. The engineers who design and oversee construction of bridges there are the same guys who make sure that when they explode what’s left of them falls into the valley below, creating roadblocks for hostile forces. Contrast this attitude with the R&D department at Dalsonware in 1947, and the collective cheer of “She’ll be right!” that must have greeted the first prototype at its unveiling.
All the chefs I know swear by REX peelers. There’s a few diffent brands available these days with some slightly different designs, but the basic form factor that kind of looks like a safety razor remains the same. The only other peeler design worth mentioning is the “Lancashire” variety, which is basically a pen knife with a peeler for a blade. These I can forgive, because some people like to pare their vegetables when they peel them. The “Aussie” peelers are unforgivable because they try to behave like a REX peeler with the swivelling blade, but the cheap plastic handle doesn’t work this way and won’t give you the leverage of a rigid Lancashire peeler.
Somehow, a vastly inferior product became far more popular than something that is a work of art, despite being nearly identical in price. This is understandable 20, 30, 40 years ago. The company that manufactures REX peelers was and still is basically a small tool shop that makes things by hand, and demand outstripped supply comfortably without needing to expand to relatively small overseas markets like Australia. But in 2012 this is inexcusable. By using anything but the vast array of potato peelers that don’t suck (which are mostly based off the REX) we endorse a society that values disposable plastic things over handmade products that last for years. A simple consideration of “does this thing that I’m using suck?” followed by a “why do I think this thing that I’m using sucks and what alternatives are available?” can be applied to many aspects of our lives.
Consideration versus consumption and needs versus wants are as simple and beautifully complex as good design against bad. A potato peeler is as easy to make well as it is to fuck it up completely, just like a lot of things that come out of a kitchen. After ten years of cooking professionally for a string of bosses who mostly turned out to be pricks, what I’ve learned most about cooking is that all you need is love. Making a potato soup and making it well are two different things seperated by care and consideration, which doesn’t cost anything at either the supermarket or the doctor’s office. Choosing between two things that are seperated by simply caring or not giving a fuck is as easy as it sounds. Unless you’re a fuckwit.
Potato, Parsnip & Leek Soup
6 Large Potatoes
2 Parsnips
1 Leek
1 Brown Onion
50gm Butter
Juice of 1 Lemon
Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Salt & Pepper
Wash the leek and chop it finely. Dice the onion and sweat it off in a large pot with the leek until it’s translucent. Add a pinch of salt. While it’s cooking peel the potato and parsnip and dice evenly to about a ½ inch square. Once the onion and leek are sweated down add the potato and parsnip. Add another good pinch of salt and continue cooking for 5 minutes, then add water to cover the vegetables. Bring to a simmer and let it go until the parsnip breaks apart to touch. Either mash it by hand for a rustic approach or use a blender or bamix to pureé the fuck out of it. Finish with the lemon juice and olive oil, and season to taste. Serve with crusty bread. Garnish with fresh parsley if you’re feeling fancy. Makes enough for two.
Shaun Thatcher ~ Photography & Illustration 