G. Daniela Galarza| Washington Post
Good food starts with good ingredients and attentive cooking skills. It’s often said that one needs only ingredients, a sharp knife and a flame (or other heat source) to make a meal. But if you’re not confident with a knife, that can slow you down.
And even if youareconfident with a knife, a refresher can’t hurt. I’ve been using a chef’s knife for 25 years. I learned some of the basics by watching chefs on PBS and the Food Network, but I didn’t learn the most effective or safest way to use a knife until I went to culinary school. Even after those lessons, it took me years of practice before I was truly comfortable cutting a variety of foods.
But I must admit: Lately, I’ve gotten lazy with my knife. In haste, I started paying less attention. I cut the tip of my finger the other week!
Most of us who grew up cooking, or have read a lot of cookbooks or watched a lot of cooking-related videos, have a general grasp of these four basic techniques. But when I used to teach cooking, I learned that people interpret instructions in unexpected ways. I have seen people attempt to slice garlic with the papery skin still on, chop a potato and then peel each cube, and dice instead of mince or mince instead of dice. Usually, this won’t drastically affect the end result of a recipe; it will still be edible, and it will probably taste fine. But cutting vegetables, fruits or proteins into the wrong sizes or shapes can affect cooking times and how the flavor of each ingredient infuses into the dish. For best results, a cook should try to use ingredients that are cut evenly and into the shape and size the recipe developer intended.
So, for all of us, I dedicated a of the Eat Voraciously newsletter to practicing and improving our knife skills. I picked out four recipes that feature a few fundamental knife cuts: slicing, mincing, julienning and chopping.
Slicing
You know what a slice of something looks like, but that idea can vary widely between a slice of raw chicken breast, tomato, roasted beef, cucumber or bell pepper.
This recipe for a Fattoush Platter is from “In Praise of Veg” by Alice Zaslavsky. It’s a deconstructed version of fattoush, a salad popular in the Levant that is typically composed of vegetables, toasted pita, sumac and a tangy dressing, and it’s a good opportunity to outline some of the ways to slice a few common vegetables, and the best way to do so for this recipe, for efficiency and/or for safety reasons.
For all recipes, consider the context in which the ingredient will be incorporated into the dish. If it’s a mostly raw vegetable salad, the vegetables will (usually) be cut into a size that can be picked up with a fork. If it’s a soup, with a variety of ingredients cooked in the same pot, vegetables that need to brown or melt into the broth may be cut smaller, while heartier vegetables will probably be cut into the same size, with nothing too big for a soup spoon.
Cucumbers: The instructions say: “3 to 4 small cucumbers (12 ounces total), sliced.” For this recipe, the way you slice the cucumbers doesn’t matter too much as long as they’re roughly bite-size. The most obvious way is to slice them into rounds, which is what the photo for this recipe shows. You could also slice them on the bias, giving you ovals. You could halve the cucumber lengthwise and slice it into half-rounds. You could even slice lengthwise into long strips (though this is somewhat trickier and more time-consuming), then into squares.
Bell peppers: The instructions say: “1 red bell pepper, stemmed, cored and sliced.” I interpret this to mean cutting the pepper around its perimeter, down from its shoulder to its base, into five or six cheeks or oblong pieces. In the process, you are simultaneously stemming and coring it. Then, those pieces can be sliced into fork-ready lengths. However, you could also use the tip of your knife to carve out the stem and attached core, then cut the pepper crosswise into flower-shaped slices. This makes a pretty presentation, but it’s harder to do and trickier to eat with a fork. There are other ways to slice a pepper, and as long as the pieces are roughly bite-size, it doesn’t matter how you do it, though some methods will take longer than others.
Onion: The instructions say: “1/2 medium red onion (3 ounces), finely sliced.” The onion is unique among vegetables because of how it’s layered. It’s challenging to cut whole, because onions are generally round or oval-shaped, so they will roll around on your cutting board until you cut them into a more stable shape. For this recipe, you’re instructed to finely slice the onion. After peeling the bulb, you could cut it in half either way, but cutting it from the stem or root end to its apex bulb or pointy tip is more efficient. Then, you can set it cut-side-down on your board and slice it in either direction, along its natural ridges into crescents (slightly more challenging) or crosswise into half-moons (easier). The instructions specify that the pieces should be fine, so aim for slices somewhere between 1/8- to 1/4-inch thick. If your onion is very large, you may wish to cut the slices in half to make them easier to eat.
Mincing
My French culinary school instructors insisted that we mince garlic with a chef’s knife by holding the stem end of each whole, peeled clove with our fingers and, with the tip of our knife, making thin cuts down, perpendicular to the stem, about 1/8 inch apart. Then, holding the knife parallel to the cutting board, we would make thin cuts horizontally into the clove, from bottom to top. Finally, we would rotate our knife perpendicular to the cutting board again, and make 1/8-inch cuts down, across our first two sets of cuts, from tip to stem, theoretically leaving behind itty-bitty squares of garlic.
I say “theoretically” because, as anyone who’s done this knows, this method is a big pain in the butt. Unless your knife isverysharp, your garlic clove fairly large and your fingers thin and especially dexterous — or you’re a very, very skilled chef — you’re going to end up with uneven garlic bits instead of perfectly square 1/8-inch pieces.
Fortunately, in a home kitchen, where there’s no stern, frowning chef peering over your shoulder, this is totally fine. The goal when cutting garlic into small pieces is to release its flavor, and any way you choose to get to small bits will achieve this.
This recipe for Fish and Almost Chips, a riff on British deep-fried fish and chips, calls for a pungent fish marinade of shallots (thinly sliced), garlic (minced or finely grated), chives (minced), oil, salt and pepper.
Garlic: My go-to method for mincing garlic is to smash whole cloves pretty hard between my knife and cutting board. The peel slips right off, and you’re left with a flattened clove that’s usually broken into longish pieces. Then you can just run your knife through this mass, rocking or chopping, pulling the knife toward you or pushing it away — it doesn’t matter — until you’ve got tiny bits of garlic.
At the Washington Post, we generally include the instruction “minced or finely grated” after listing the number of garlic cloves in a recipe. We hope to give the home cook an idea of how small the garlic should be before beginning the recipe, and offer at least one alternative to using a chef’s knife.
(Yes, you can also use a garlic press! Or mini-chopper of some sort. Or a mortar and pestle. Technically, not all of these methods produce textbook minced garlic, but, again: Usually the goal is to get to itty-bitty bits.)
Chives: Fresh, sturdy chives, gently washed and dried, are easy to mince with a sharp knife on a steady board. Simply gather them up in a loose bunch in your hand, flat against your cutting board, and slide your knife down and forward in small, 1/8-inch increments until you’ve got a pile of fluffy, tiny green cylinders. Go as slowly as you need to. (If your minced chives look stuck together or mangled, your knife isn’t sharp enough.)
Julienning
The French term “julienne” means to cut something into a thin, uniform strip. Sometimes this is called a matchstick cut; Chinese chefs call it a strip cut. If you find yourself under the tutelage of a strict, very traditional chef, they will expect each julienned piece of vegetable to be a cuboid that is 2 inches long, 1/8 of an inch wide and 1/8 of an inch tall. (These measurements may vary slightly, depending on whether you’re using the metric or imperial system - and sometimes on the ingredient and its intended use.) In a home setting, there’s no need to take out your ruler.
Other cooks may disagree, but I think julienne is a sort of bonus cut. Unlike with mincing or dicing, julienning is often more of a stylistic choice. It’s nice to know how to do, and the matchstick-size pieces look quite elegant.
Practice your precision in this colorful Vegetable Linguine, which calls for julienned carrots, bell peppers and leeks.
Carrots: Your first goal is to cut a long, roughly cylindrical carrot crosswise into more manageable pieces, perhaps 3 to 5 inches long. Set all but one piece of carrot aside, to give yourself room to work. Slice a thin strip off the length of one of the carrot pieces, just to take off its round edges. Then put the piece cut-side-down on your cutting board. Now that you’ve stabilized the cylinder, you can begin to julienne: Working lengthwise, cut down into the carrot to produce approximately 1/8- to 1/4-inch planks. Stack those planks, then cut down again, every 1/8 to 1/4 of an inch, to create matchstick-size pieces. Bonus: You can use this same method for zucchini, cucumbers, parsnips, asparagus, eggplant or any other similarly shaped vegetable or fruit. An easier though less precise way to julienne a cylindrical vegetable is to slice it on a bias, stack those oval-shaped pieces, then cut them into strips. (See the animation above.) You won’t get the same neatly squared-off edges, but your pieces will be close enough to the size and shape you need.
Bell peppers: There are a few ways to julienne a bell pepper, but I like using its empty exterior to my advantage. If you slice off the top, taking care to pluck out the core and seeds, and then slice off the bumpy bottom, you’re left with a hollow cuff. Make one cut down through it, from top to bottom, to flatten it into a slab of pepper. Then slice matchstick strips across its length. Depending on the size of your pepper, and the size you want your matchsticks, you may need to cut the strips in half.
Leeks: Almost every time a recipe calls for leeks, it’s referring to the white and pale green parts. The dark green leaves at the top are fine for stock, but they’re too fibrous to cook down in a pan, so cut those off before you begin. You can also trim the stem end if it’s especially dirty. Then wash it inside and out. The only way I know how to ensure I’ve gotten all of the grit out of the inside of a leek is to cut it in half lengthwise and soak or rinse it with cold water, flipping through the layers like a book to let the dirt run off. Dry these off, and you’re ready to julienne: Cut the leek halves into more manageable pieces, or into the length you’d like for your matchsticks. Then, working with one piece at a time, cut-side-down, slice the lengths into thin strips in the direction of the stem’s growth. Your pieces will not all be precisely the same size, and that’s just fine.
Chopping
The Cobb Salad is classic Americana, and variations abound. Just about all of them include quite a bit of chopping. This version is based on the original, as published in the Brown Derby’s cookbook. There are many ways to cut and incorporate each of the ingredients, but for the most part, I’ve kept it pretty close to Bob Cobb’s original. Here’s the knife work you’re going to need to make this chopped salad at home:
Chop: This is the most basic cut, but it’s also one of the most variable. Good recipes will specify something like “roughly chopped” or “chopped into 1-inch pieces.” Here, the chicken and bacon are cooked and cooled, then the chicken is chopped into “bite-size pieces” while the bacon is chopped into “bits or slivers.” Could you pull the chicken into strips or use your hands to crumble the bacon? Of course. The goal is to ensure that the cooked proteins are easy to pick up with a fork and fit neatly into your mouth.
The hard-boiled eggs are also chopped, and although you could approach this with precision, by slicing each egg and then dicing it, the eggs are going to fall apart, with the yolks crumbling as you work. This is totally fine. Keep calm and chop on until you’ve got roughly chopped pieces of egg.
Finely chop: All of the greens in this salad — the romaine, iceberg, chicory and chives — get finely chopped. I generally do this by washing the greens, drying them well, then laying each head of lettuce across my cutting board and chopping through it, perpendicular to the stem, about 1/4 inch between each cut, resulting in thin ribbons. If these seem too long to fit on a fork, continue chopping in either direction.
Approach the chives the way you would if you were mincing them, but the bits don’t need to be as tiny. Hold the bunch on the cutting board, perpendicular to your knife, and aim for 1/4-inch cuts across the bunch, which will give you sprinkle-size pieces.
Dice: To dice the avocado, I first halve it lengthwise, pluck out the pit and remove its peel. Then I place each half cut-side-down on my board and slice it in half horizontally, with my knife parallel to the cutting board. Next, I slice down from the top, making 1/2-inch cuts across the fruit. Finally, I make perpendicular cuts, also 1/2 inch apart, which produces a fairly clean medium dice.
To dice the tomato, cut it in half lengthwise, through the stem and down through its pert bottom. If it has a thick core, I’ll cut that out by making a V-cut around the stem. Then I’ll place each half cut-side-down on the board and cut it into 1/2-inch-thick slices. Next, I’ll flip those slices, so the larger face is up, and, keeping them stacked, make cuts 1/2 inch apart in the other direction, until I have a more-or-less tidy medium dice. Note: Tomatoes are watery and full of seeds, so it’s not always possible to get a perfectly clean dice unless you core and seed the tomatoes fully — but then you’ll lose all of that flavor and texture! I very rarely seed tomatoes. I prioritize flavor over perfection. This is one ingredient that requires a very sharp knife, otherwise - particularly with the ripest specimens — you can end up smashing more than slicing or chopping. (You can also use a serrated utility knife for this purpose, but I prefer going to my chef’s knife for almost everything.)
