A Fine Tool: The Wooden Pencil We love tools. Shiny tools. Sharp tools. Tools that spin at incomprehensible speeds. Tools that make loud noises and produce copious amounts of sawdust. Tools of exotic origins and precision manufacture. Tools of such efficient beauty that we can’t help but to display them on the walls of our workshops. But it’s a special kind of love we reserve for the wooden pencil. A highly specialized tool, the wooden pencil is useful for not much more than markmaking. Sure, we’ve used those fancy mechanical jobs. The ones made of stainless steel with the little cap you must remove to expose the fragile, almost dainty, eraser. The ones that require graphite purchased in metric increments at the art supply store. But they always feel a little too overwrought. They’re tiny scratches ill-suited for the simple task of sketching out how to rip a sheet of plywood, or marking the wall studs so you could hang that pot rack in the kitchen.  Our relationship with the humble wooden pencil is one built on trust. We always know what we’re getting when we reach for our Ticonderoga. In fact we keep them close at hand, and close to our heart, literally. We consistently have a pencil or two jammed in the breast pocket of our shop apron. And if for some reason we don’t find one there, we know one can’t be too far off. The little wooden devils travel in packs like lemmings, quietly awaiting their summons to assist with long division or some other menial task. A better workhorse we couldn’t find. Especially those stout, flat carpenter’s pencils. They stubbornly sit on their work surface refusing to move  and require sharpening with a razor blade, as if they find the battered metal pencil sharpener on the wall too ‘stuffy.’  We drop them, kick them, throw them, put them in our mouth and bite them, and yet the wooden pencil soldiers on with nary a complaint. Content to stand at attention in the mason jar on our workbench and in our breast and hip pockets ready for whatever we throw them at. 
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A Fine Tool: The Wooden Pencil

We love tools. Shiny tools. Sharp tools. Tools that spin at incomprehensible speeds. Tools that make loud noises and produce copious amounts of sawdust. Tools of exotic origins and precision manufacture. Tools of such efficient beauty that we can’t help but to display them on the walls of our workshops. But it’s a special kind of love we reserve for the wooden pencil.

A highly specialized tool, the wooden pencil is useful for not much more than markmaking. Sure, we’ve used those fancy mechanical jobs. The ones made of stainless steel with the little cap you must remove to expose the fragile, almost dainty, eraser. The ones that require graphite purchased in metric increments at the art supply store. But they always feel a little too overwrought. They’re tiny scratches ill-suited for the simple task of sketching out how to rip a sheet of plywood, or marking the wall studs so you could hang that pot rack in the kitchen. 

Our relationship with the humble wooden pencil is one built on trust. We always know what we’re getting when we reach for our Ticonderoga. In fact we keep them close at hand, and close to our heart, literally. We consistently have a pencil or two jammed in the breast pocket of our shop apron. And if for some reason we don’t find one there, we know one can’t be too far off. The little wooden devils travel in packs like lemmings, quietly awaiting their summons to assist with long division or some other menial task.

A better workhorse we couldn’t find. Especially those stout, flat carpenter’s pencils. They stubbornly sit on their work surface refusing to move  and require sharpening with a razor blade, as if they find the battered metal pencil sharpener on the wall too ‘stuffy.’ 

We drop them, kick them, throw them, put them in our mouth and bite them, and yet the wooden pencil soldiers on with nary a complaint. Content to stand at attention in the mason jar on our workbench and in our breast and hip pockets ready for whatever we throw them at. 

Hand Made: The best made ice cubes, by Laura Silverman

I guess you can’t call them ice cubes if they’re round, huh? If you’re not already familiar with the craze for super-large blocks of ice in cocktails, let this be your introduction. Although I’m no expert in the matter, I believe this concept originated with the Japanese. Let’s face it, from tea to little girls’ undies, no one takes a fetish further. For them, it was all about the ultimate glass of whiskey. The way to drink it cold but undiluted was poured over a large, perfectly spherical and very-slow-melting ice ball. In an aggressive but skilled fashion, Japanese bartenders—and some local copycats—actually carve them out of solid blocks of ice. (If you doubt me, see here.) For a slightly less dangerous approach, with strikingly similar results, you can simply use Muji’s spherical silicone mold. The countless “Penicillin” cocktails I’ve enjoyed at Momofuku Ssam—and also recreated at home—finally convinced me to try the big ice thing. At Momofuku they use blocks, but these round ones work just fine. They’re about 3 inches in diameter.

The molds, made of thick, pliable white silicone, come in two pieces. They’re not the easiest things in the world to maneuver, so be sure to run them under hot water to loosen them before you start prying the two sides apart. The Muji site also suggests you use the molds for “jelly.” Not exactly sure what they have in mind, but could be interesting. The spheres actually look really beautiful in a glass. Try them in this delicious seasonal cocktail, which I’ve dubbed Apple of Your Eye. Or just try the cocktail. Gigantic ice may not be your particular fetish.

APPLE OF YOUR EYE

makes 1 cocktail

1 ounce cider syrup (recipe below)

1 ounce fresh lemon juice

2 ounces Calvados

Pour into shaker with ice and shake vigorously. Strain into a chilled rocks glass, preferably (but not necessarily) over a large ice sphere. Garnish with a twist of orange peel.

CIDER SYRUP

2 cups organic apple cider

1 tablespoon dark muscovado sugar

1 tablespoon grade B maple syrup

3 star anise

Stir ingredients together in a small saucepan and bring to a strong simmer. Reduce by half. Cool before using.

Laura Chávez Silverman is a writer, cook, gardener and naturalist who blogs at gluttonforlife.com.

Photos by George Billard

Hand Made: The Cob Oven Life doesn’t get any better when there’s a communal fire involved, but add Michael Pollan, a goat, some of California’s brightest chefs, and 36 hours of constant fire management and you get this spectacular piece in today’s New York Times. The cob oven in Pollan’s story was built by Bay area chef Mike Emanuel, and you can bet building one of these babies is definitely on our list of projects to tackle. We particularly love the inspiration for this story and Pollan’s background:  “The inspiration for this pyro-gastronomical experiment was the communal ovens still found burning in some towns around the Mediterranean, centers of social gravity where, each morning, people bring their proofed, or risen, loaves to be baked. (Each loaf bears a signature slash so you can be sure the one you get back is your own.) But after the bread is out of the oven, people show up with a variety of other dishes to wring every last B.T.U. from the day’s fire: pizzas while the oven is still blazing and then, as the day goes on, gentle braises or even pots of yogurt to capture the last heat and flavors of the dying embers. The idea is to make the most efficient use of precious firewood and to keep the heat (and the danger) of the cook fire some distance from everybody’s homes. But what appeals to me about the tradition is how the communal oven also becomes a focus for social life (“focus” is Latin for “hearth”), a place to gather and gossip and escape the solitude of cooking at home. Shared meals have always been about community, about what happens among family and friends — even enemies — when they gather around a table to eat; but once upon a time, before every family had its own kitchen in which Mom labored more or less alone, cooking was itself a social activity, one that fostered community and conversation around the chopping board or cook fire long before the meal was served.” Click here to read more. 
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Hand Made: The Cob Oven

Life doesn’t get any better when there’s a communal fire involved, but add Michael Pollan, a goat, some of California’s brightest chefs, and 36 hours of constant fire management and you get this spectacular piece in today’s New York Times. The cob oven in Pollan’s story was built by Bay area chef Mike Emanuel, and you can bet building one of these babies is definitely on our list of projects to tackle. We particularly love the inspiration for this story and Pollan’s background: 

“The inspiration for this pyro-gastronomical experiment was the communal ovens still found burning in some towns around the Mediterranean, centers of social gravity where, each morning, people bring their proofed, or risen, loaves to be baked. (Each loaf bears a signature slash so you can be sure the one you get back is your own.) But after the bread is out of the oven, people show up with a variety of other dishes to wring every last B.T.U. from the day’s fire: pizzas while the oven is still blazing and then, as the day goes on, gentle braises or even pots of yogurt to capture the last heat and flavors of the dying embers.

The idea is to make the most efficient use of precious firewood and to keep the heat (and the danger) of the cook fire some distance from everybody’s homes. But what appeals to me about the tradition is how the communal oven also becomes a focus for social life (“focus” is Latin for “hearth”), a place to gather and gossip and escape the solitude of cooking at home. Shared meals have always been about community, about what happens among family and friends — even enemies — when they gather around a table to eat; but once upon a time, before every family had its own kitchen in which Mom labored more or less alone, cooking was itself a social activity, one that fostered community and conversation around the chopping board or cook fire long before the meal was served.”

Click here to read more. 

Hand Made: Ink

“Never pick a fight with a man who buys ink by the barrel”- Mark Twain. Here’s a lovely little Monday morning meditation by the guys who make it. And thanks to Michael Scott of Indianapolis, IN for sending this little gem in. 

Best Made Collection: Pressed steel tricycle running boards For the last 10 years I have been collecting plastic white coffee cup lids (among other things) a collection of objects that were never meant to be collected - but let me assure you that something quite magical happens when you see these blank plastic lids all lined up neatly next to each other. Before I started Best Made I collected old used axes on Ebay, limiting myself to spending no more than $20 per axe (look it’s easy). Among other things that small and modest collection of old axes lead me to re-evaluate the tool itself and hence an idea was born. In some form or another we are all collectors, we have been since the cradle. I challenge you to look harder at the things around you, things within arm’s reach, the small and meaningless, the mundane and overlooked, and if you like what you see then try collecting it.  The less you think about the act of collecting the better. No one is too old, to young, too dumb, or too smart to collect! I would suggest keeping meticulous track of what you collect and making sure it is stored in a secure, organized fashion. There are a ton of archival resources online, I like Light Impressions. On occasion I urge you to take your collection out of the box, think about it, ponder it, document it, put it up on the wall, post it online, and when the time is right show your friends, and share it with the world. And whatever happens don’t be discouraged if someone else has the same collection, or a much bigger one than yours- see it as a chance to trade ideas and experiences, get inspired, and make your collection better. A good collection - no matter how worthless the objects - is always a deeply personal expression and will be something that will be handed down to generations. Not to be too morbid but one of the most meaningful collections I ever had was a simple collection of about a dozen sticks of various size that my dog retrieved (collected). When we eventually had to put her down the collection spoke more of her than most any picture ever could. - PBS
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Best Made Collection: Pressed steel tricycle running boards

For the last 10 years I have been collecting plastic white coffee cup lids (among other things) a collection of objects that were never meant to be collected - but let me assure you that something quite magical happens when you see these blank plastic lids all lined up neatly next to each other. Before I started Best Made I collected old used axes on Ebay, limiting myself to spending no more than $20 per axe (look it’s easy). Among other things that small and modest collection of old axes lead me to re-evaluate the tool itself and hence an idea was born. In some form or another we are all collectors, we have been since the cradle. I challenge you to look harder at the things around you, things within arm’s reach, the small and meaningless, the mundane and overlooked, and if you like what you see then try collecting it. 

The less you think about the act of collecting the better. No one is too old, to young, too dumb, or too smart to collect! I would suggest keeping meticulous track of what you collect and making sure it is stored in a secure, organized fashion. There are a ton of archival resources online, I like Light Impressions. On occasion I urge you to take your collection out of the box, think about it, ponder it, document it, put it up on the wall, post it online, and when the time is right show your friends, and share it with the world. And whatever happens don’t be discouraged if someone else has the same collection, or a much bigger one than yours- see it as a chance to trade ideas and experiences, get inspired, and make your collection better. A good collection - no matter how worthless the objects - is always a deeply personal expression and will be something that will be handed down to generations. Not to be too morbid but one of the most meaningful collections I ever had was a simple collection of about a dozen sticks of various size that my dog retrieved (collected). When we eventually had to put her down the collection spoke more of her than most any picture ever could. - PBS

Hand Made: The Pressed Shirt

For a special ‘welcome back to work’ Monday post we’re sharing this video of a master launderer pressing a dress shirt. The way he moves indicates a very practiced hand. Although he moves quickly he is most definitely not just going through the motions. One can tell he has much pride in both his work and his craftsmanship. Have a great week!

Best Made Eye Candy: Oskar Fischinger

In keeping with this theme of graphic, colorful animations to sooth the eyes and warm the soul here’s a very early piece by Disney animator Oskar Fischinger. There isn’t much of Fischinger’s movies online, but believe me: they get much better than this (buy the DVD if you can). 

Hand Made: The Eames chair