A Cut Above

There is tell of a lake in a far off corner of Saskatchewan that is always foggy, so foggy, in fact, that you can barely see a foot past the water’s edge, let alone out to its center, where there lies an island. They say that on that island is a single drab two-story building, no larger than a three bedroom house.

And yet, chefs from the world over will travel to this lake and stand upon its shore and hope to catch a glimpse of that very building. Because, they say, if the fog parts and allows you to see it, that means you’ve been admitted to the program that takes up residence within its walls: the Culinary Academy of Dame Killaney Marshall.

There have been paintings unearthed, going back as far as the 1200s, which show women in royal garb who all bear a striking resemblance to the Dame. Some say these are her ancestors, proof of her unmatched bloodline. Others go even further. They claim the women in these paintings are Dame Killaney Marshall, that she has been alive nigh 1000 years, that her innate understanding of nutrition has allowed her to construct a diet that grants her immortality.

But this is not the wisdom sought by the chefs who come to the shores of her lake. Nor is it her command of spices, which has been said, by those lucky enough to eat a meal prepared by her, to “bend the very definitions of both ‘heat’ and ‘sweet,’” and to “demand the eater question whether the leaves she has dried and ground down are truly of this earth.”

No, they flock to her shores to learn her ancient knife skills. Or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say knife-less skills, for Dame Killaney Marshall uses no blades. Instead, they say, she can peel a potato in mere seconds using only her thumb, or cube a three pound chuck roast with a series of quick taps along its perimeter. And she knows the various pressure points of all known vegetables (and many unknown vegetables, as well), allowing her to reduce them with a brief but precise massage into any configuration she pleases: coarsely chopped, diced, minced, etc.

This is what the chefs hope for as they stand at her lake, speaking the various required incantations in tongues they do not themselves understand, and waiting for the wind to stir and part the fog, their kayaks at the ready to make the journey across the water’s eerily reflective surface.

But friends, before you book your ticket to Saskatoon and rent a car for the six hour drive northward, on roads unmarked, through towns long abandoned, know this: the fogs parting in acceptance is rare, and making it through Dame Killaney Marshall’s entire course of study without succumbing to madness rarer still.

So maybe just buy a good knife set, like this one, and call it a day!