Sh#t My Dad Owns: The Mandoline

So...my new obsession is pickling.  I could lie and say that it is because the bounty of fruit at the Farmers Market is waning with the approaching cold, but in truth?  Much like birthing children, I am just sick to death of making jam; the late nights, the weight gain (this part is mostly imaginary...mostly), and everything being sticky.   The last part I will probably not get much relief on because I have a preschooler and a toddler in my house and...*sigh* they are just...always sticky or wet, then they just...touch my stuff.  Children are gross, but I digress.  Also much like giving birth, my biological clock will fool me into forgetting all the uncomfortable bits, and come Spring I will be rejoicing in the berry harvest. 

The remaining months of the Farmers Market, however, will be devoted to pickles (till I get tired and do something else...I'll keep you posted).  This Saturday I pickled up a few bundles of dirty, but otherwise noble looking carrots which were immediately earmarked for some sort of sweet, tangy, ginger pickle.  Almost immediately after I had that thought, my mind wandered toward my father's arsenal of kitchen crap.  Of course...OF COURSE he would have something that was going to make my prep a breeze...I just knew it.  I was right...my father owns a Mandoline...which I borrowed upon my most recent visit (after returning the swanky slap chop).  Unlike the slap chop, however, the Mandoline is a little bit of holycrapawesome and actually used by people who know what the hell they are doing in the kitchen.  Here, take a look...

Your veggies slide right into the waiting, adjustable blade.

Yeah, sweet right?  And it worked.  Here is a little detail I bet you did not know...it also works on HUMAN FLESH.  However, it only does that if you are too dumb to remember the piece that protects your hand from the blade and just...you know...use it anyway...with your kids in the kitchen...close to bedtime.  I think I traumatized my four year old by nearly hacking off the tip of my middle finger while nagging her about...oh...it could have been so many things.  So many...many things.  I ended up doing a little surgery with the baby's nail clippers, wrapping the whole disaster in a Buzz Lightyear band-aide, and wondering for just a moment where my dignity had gone.  Fortunately, and I am sure this is the burning question on all your minds, there are no finger shavings in the carrots...which turned out beautifully.

The Mandoline is Win...neatly sliced, super sharp Win.