1996 was a good year. Licking my wounds from a shattered relationship, I flew to the Southern California desert for a little R&R. Little did I know, I would meet my cooking mentor, Tom Romig. A week of dry desert air, close friends and homemade food ensued. From that point on, cooking would have a new significance for me. Exiting the desert, I pulled over at a outlet mall and bought my first chef knife (and flew home with it, if you can believe that). All things must pass. And, thank god for unlimited lifetime warranties. Recently, one of the rivets just popped off its handle and I exchanged my trusty tool for a spanking new one. Even though it is the same knife, it’s funny how different it feels.