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One Christmas a friend of mine, also from Ohio, bought me a beautiful chef’s knife from the locally famed Warther Cutlery factory. These knives are an Ohio tradition and they’ve been around since 1902. They’re often given as wedding gifts. There’s even a Warther museum, although I’ve never experienced the excitement.
Since I wasn’t married, and I had no plans to be, I decided to treat myself to a full set of these knives. With the wood block and everything.
It was a splurge for a grown up kitchen. Something I had not paid too much attention to until I made dinner for a chef and famed wine maker. Then I realized I was under-equipped.
When I called the factory, an unengaged woman answered the phone who sounded like she had been working there for twenty years. I asked her how the weather was and shared that I was from a suburb of Cleveland called Parma. “Oh yeaaah” she replied with a strong Ohio accent.
Then she asked where I was now. “The beach in San Francisco.” Then she asked, “What do you do?” I replied, “I’m an artist. I’m known for my paintings of Wine Country.”
She asked, “Ya, you make a livin’ doing that?” I said. “Well yes. That’s what’s paying for these knives.”
Her reply, “Yeah right!”
“Ahhh yes.” Although I longed for a bit of nostalgia from home, in that moment I was reminded why I left. There's a reason they call it "California Dreaming."
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[caption id="attachment_751" align="alignnone" width="300" caption="San Francisco based Artist & CEO"][/caption]
One Christmas a friend of mine, also from Ohio, bought me a beautiful chef’s knife from the locally famed Warther Cutlery factory. These knives are an Ohio tradition and they’ve been around since 1902. They’re often given as wedding gifts. There’s even a Warther museum, although I’ve never experienced the excitement.
Since I wasn’t married, and I had no plans to be, I decided to treat myself to a full set of these knives. With the wood block and everything.
It was a splurge for a grown up kitchen. Something I had not paid too much attention to until I made dinner for a chef and famed wine maker. Then I realized I was under-equipped.
When I called the factory, an unengaged woman answered the phone who sounded like she had been working there for twenty years. I asked her how the weather was and shared that I was from a suburb of Cleveland called Parma. “Oh yeaaah” she replied with a strong Ohio accent.
Then she asked where I was now. “The beach in San Francisco.” Then she asked, “What do you do?” I replied, “I’m an artist. I’m known for my paintings of Wine Country.”
She asked, “Ya, you make a livin’ doing that?” I said. “Well yes. That’s what’s paying for these knives.”
Her reply, “Yeah right!”
“Ahhh yes.” Although I longed for a bit of nostalgia from home, in that moment I was reminded why I left. There's a reason they call it "California Dreaming."
[/caption]
One Christmas a friend of mine, also from Ohio, bought me a beautiful chef’s knife from the locally famed Warther Cutlery factory. These knives are an Ohio tradition and they’ve been around since 1902. They’re often given as wedding gifts. There’s even a Warther museum, although I’ve never experienced the excitement.
Since I wasn’t married, and I had no plans to be, I decided to treat myself to a full set of these knives. With the wood block and everything.
It was a splurge for a grown up kitchen. Something I had not paid too much attention to until I made dinner for a chef and famed wine maker. Then I realized I was under-equipped.
When I called the factory, an unengaged woman answered the phone who sounded like she had been working there for twenty years. I asked her how the weather was and shared that I was from a suburb of Cleveland called Parma. “Oh yeaaah” she replied with a strong Ohio accent.
Then she asked where I was now. “The beach in San Francisco.” Then she asked, “What do you do?” I replied, “I’m an artist. I’m known for my paintings of Wine Country.”
She asked, “Ya, you make a livin’ doing that?” I said. “Well yes. That’s what’s paying for these knives.”
Her reply, “Yeah right!”
“Ahhh yes.” Although I longed for a bit of nostalgia from home, in that moment I was reminded why I left. There's a reason they call it "California Dreaming."
