The joys of owning the right tool for the job and my vain attempts to turn myself into a one
There is nothing I love more in life than owning the right tool for the job, especially when the tool in question is perfectly designed to do the job efficiently and effectively. I’m perfectly fine if that’s all it’s good for. I’m okay if I rarely, if ever, use it. In short, I love a specialized tool.
My wife wanted to plant bulbs one year, and I bought a tool you step on and pull up a plug of earth like you’re putting in a new hole on a golf green. Works like a charm. I’ll probably never use it again, and I don’t give a good goddamn. I’d rather order a tool, wait a week for it to come in, and then do the job in ten minutes, rather than struggle for an hour or two doing the same damn thing and wrecking my back in the process.
They say if you want to figure out the easiest way to do something, ask a lazy man to do it. Now, I take exception to that, but only to a degree. I’m allergic to manual labor and busy work, but I’m not exactly lazy. I would, however, rather spend two hours figuring out how to do something in twenty minutes than spend an hour doing it with difficulty. I’m just not into muscling through something to get it over with. Let’s stop and think about this for a minute.
The lack of the right tool for the job is the very reason I find any sort of DIY project a total drag. Anything I’m not an expert in is destined to be an anxiety-inducing nightmare of Biblical proportions, where I end up cursing and throwing things, followed by paying someone else to fix what I have so inexpertly attempted to do. I’ve learned to skip that part and just call the guy straightaway. The guy knows how to do it.
I am not handy because that would entail having the right tool for the job, and since repair of any kind is not my business, it is, therefore, not my forte. I do not own these tools, nor do I know how to use them, so why would you suppose I could fix it?
I swear my wife thinks there’s some genetic marker that gives men the ability to fix things, but unless she’s having a problem with her Apple products, I’m a useless twat. She once told me her car was making a funny noise, and I told her to take it to the mechanic down the street, to which she replied rather peevishly, “Don’t you want to at least hear it first?”
What am I going to do? It wasn’t my car, even though I paid for it. I didn’t know how it usually sounded, so what the hell was I going to say? “You’re right, but you undersold it. You said funny, and that’s fucking hysterical. Never heard anything like it. Imagine that?”
Some comedian, and I can’t remember who, used to have a bit about how auto mechanics were just screwing us constantly because none of us know how anything works anymore, let alone a modern automobile. They can tell us anything, and we’ll believe it. What choice do we have? For the record, I feel the same way about the medical community.
You undersold it. You said funny, and that’s fucking hysterical. Never heard anything like it.
“So, what you have here are these tiny little unicorns in your exhaust system,” the mechanic tells you, “and they’ve been jumping up and down, poking holes in the tailpipe with their horns, and you can’t have that.”
“Tiny unicorns, eh?” You say. “Yeah, that sounds bad. So, uh, what’s it going to cost to get rid of them?”
“Oh, I’d say about fifteen hundred bucks, give or take.”
“That sounds about right.”
Earlier today, my wife was making a carrot cake for our daughter’s 40th birthday, and she was using an attachment for the KitchenAid mixer that is supposed to shred carrots. She was having trouble getting it to work properly, and while we eventually got the job done, I didn’t understand why she didn’t just use the Cuisinart food processor we own, which would have done the job in about a minute, because that’s its sole reason for being. Instead, she spent 20 minutes struggling with this shitty attachment that was supposed to make things easier and more efficient.
I’m a big fan of the KitchenAid mixer, but I draw the line at any and all attachments. Attachments never work as promised. If it were designed to work, it wouldn’t be an attachment. It would just be part of the original program and not an afterthought.
This evening, I was prepping chicken wings by cutting the tips and separating the drums from the flats. The last time I did this, I realized the poultry shears we owned were worthless, and my wife explained she usually just used the scissors. Now, I bought these very scissors in a three-pack on Amazon, and they’re made to cut paper. They do that incredibly well, but they aren’t designed to cut through chicken knuckles, so by the end of prepping two trays of wings, my hand was destroyed and cramped.
It took two full days to recover from that.
The next day, I went online and found a new pair of proper heavy-duty shears—for like no money, mind you—and ordered them. They set me back $21.99, if you must know. Today, I started working on the wings with the new shears, and I have to tell you, it was like cutting through butter with a hot knife. Now, that’s what I’m talking about. They’re red enamel and stainless steel, and one of the prettiest tools I currently own. I’m in love with them. I might hang them in a place of honor, from the mantle. I don’t care if we keep them simply to prep chicken wings. Perfectly reasonable expenditure in my book.
I might have to get a leather sheath and wear it on my hip, like a BBQ gunslinger. I’ll hire myself out, prepping chicken wings for other families. I’ll tell them, “Keep your shitty scissors and get that knife away from me. I brought my own tools. Just bring me the chicken.”
Keep your shitty scissors and get that knife away from me. I brought my own tools. Just bring me the chicken.
A few days ago, I ordered new baking sheets, ones with fairly high sides, that also come with wire racks that fit perfectly. This is what I’ve been needing for quite some time, and all I had to do was spend another $20. They’re not only perfect for wings, but they make great cooling racks for everything from cookies to bread, and can even be used to dry meat before grilling.
A few wire racks are great to have, and if they come with a tray to catch whatever falls through, all the better. I also ordered some aluminum-free baking soda (this is the first time I’m hearing that some baking soda has aluminum in it) to add to my spice mix, as this helps make the wings extra crispy.
I got halfway through the prep and realized all the wings weren’t even thawed yet, so I put everything back in the fridge, and I’m going to wait until the rest of my gear arrives in a few days. They’ll keep. Then, I’m going to make some bangin-ass wings. This is going to be my new pizza, I think. I’m going to be the king of comfort food around this mutha. My wife really enjoys chicken wings, so after I grilled a batch over charcoal on the Weber a month or so ago, she firmly believes this is my new specialty.
I’m also in charge of popcorn, which I make using a specially-made pot with a crank handle we bought at an Amish store in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. It works like a charm and is 100% better than that disgusting petroleum-covered shit people manufacture in the microwave.
I’ve tried all manner of popping corn, including a bag of organic kernels from the Amish, which were inedible. Say what you will about genetically-modified corn, but there’s simply nothing better, more consistent, or as big and fluffy as goddamn Orville Redenbacher. That squirrelly dude with the bow tie invented some truly incredible snacks. Who cares if I end up growing a tail? It’ll be worth it.
Between dealing with the fireplace, more or less handling all the yard work, and creating a few premium culinary delights every few weeks, I’m trying to solidify my position in the household so my wife doesn’t try to trade me in for a younger, richer model. I bring in all the money, and we’re going to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary this year, but I think I still need like two more menu additions.
I’m also in charge of steaming gyoza, the Japanese dumplings we love so much, in that stacking bamboo basket thingy, but I’ve never really been happy with how they turn out. They steam fine, no great trick there, but I prefer the pan-seared method. I handmade gyoza myself once, using premade wrappers. I made the filling from scratch with chicken, pork, cabbage, green onion, and ginger. They were beautiful, until I cooked them.
I’m trying to solidify my position in the household so my wife doesn’t try to trade me in for a younger, richer model.
Gyoza are fun to make, and I like working with the dough, but when I went to sear them, everything stuck to the pan, and I got immediately frustrated. I suspect the problem was that I didn’t get the pan hot enough before I started. I have had this same issue with multiple things, including seared scallops. That balance of heat and the smoke point of the oil. I suspect I don’t wait long enough, so it’s never quite hot enough. I might want to work on that.
I want to figure out how to cook them properly, and I suspect I’m going to need a few more tools, such as a steaming lid and a squirt bottle for water, for starters. I’ve seen how the pros do it. They sear them for a bit, then they squirt water on the griddle and cover them to let them steam. The thing is, when the filling of your dumpling contains raw meat, you really want to make sure they are cooked properly. No one wants chicken sashimi.
The main thing you have to come to grips with when trying new things is never to expect to make a meal the first few times you try. You have to really fuck up some food before you can hope to entertain or feed anyone else. All skills require practice, and cooking is no exception. You don’t invite people over and then decide to try something new. You do your greatest hits, not your new experimental shit. You practice in the garage, not the stadium.
I have considered trying to figure out pommes frites, which I believe are up there with another of God’s great gifts to humanity and one of my favorite things on earth, but that just might be a bridge too far. There’s a reason why fries in restaurants are usually pretty mediocre or even bad. The process is time-consuming and tedious.
To make good fries, you have to start with the right potatoes, cut them properly, soak them, then cook them three separate times, freezing them along the way, and finally, you have to deep fry them. I don’t see myself doing this just so my wife can eat a small cone of fries while I watch. You need like a dozen people, or it’s barely worth the trouble, and we rarely entertain.
I need an outdoor kitchen, in a different climate, which is what I would do if I ever came into a lot of money again. Forget the fancy cars, second homes, and exotic vacations. I want a killer outdoor kitchen with all the accoutrements. A pizza oven, a couple of friers, a large flattop, both gas and charcoal grills, fridges and freezers, triple sinks, and massive workspaces. Of course, I’ll also need to move to Southern California, or somewhere else that you can live outside all year round.
Until then, I’m going to go ahead and make those wings, just to see if I can’t turn myself into a proper tool.
I’ve heard whispers that I just might be.
Follow David Todd McCarty on Mastodon.