Kitchen Things by Richard Snodgrass

Author:Richard Snodgrass
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Skyhorse Publishing
Published: 2012-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

EGG SLICER

An egg slicer is a good example of the paradoxes that can come with efficiency. On one hand, there is the beauty of the thing’s simplicity. Delicate as a fairy’s harp; the precision of the ten strings fitting impeccably into ten awaiting slots; the provocatively-shaped cradle to hold the soft pale flesh of the egg. But then there is the moment of truth. Schwick! Something like a guillotine, only multiplied. What was an egg is no more. The roll-about oval shape is divided into perfectly proportioned, totally utilitarian slices. We don’t know much about Humpty Dumpty’s survival training, but even if he became hard-boiled to protect himself from a fall, Humpty without his shell would be no match for the cold efficacy of an egg slicer.

Angelic in appearance; a devil in its nature. A model of industrial design, form following function to the degree that it could seem like it’s the other way around. In the annals of art photography, the egg slicer is something of a celebrity from an image by Edward Weston. But Weston’s image was made with strong side-lighting to emphasize the geometric interplay of the slicer with its shadow, the character of the implement itself of no interest. In addition to eggs, the utensil can be applied to soft fruits and vegetables such as raspberries and mushrooms. It has even been used as a musical instrument, though the results, as you might expect, were rather tinkly.

What does an egg slicer have on its mind? The question might not be as loopy as it first sounds. A while ago, an article in The New York Times Magazine ruminated on the nature of consciousness. The idea was that consciousness, in order to form into complex systems such as our brains, must exist in every bit of matter, building up from some proto-level of existence beyond even photons and neutrinos and quarks. Granting that possibility, I can imagine our egg slicer thinking as it bites irreparably into the yielding flesh of the egg, This is who I am. As for the egg, I can hear a chorus of tiny interior voices—eleven, to be exact—if not exactly joyous, at least totally in the moment, all singing in concert, Here we go!

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.