MADISON, WI — A walnut end-grain cutting board that has served the same suburban Wisconsin household with quiet distinction since 2019 has, per multiple sources, expressed serious private concerns about the eight-piece Japanese knife set the family purchased Saturday.
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The cutting board, identified only as the Boos, had been the primary cutting surface at the Kothari residence for six years, developing what one observer described as “a really lovely patina” and forming what family members characterized as “a genuine working relationship” with the household’s previous knife — a mid-tier German chef’s knife the family had owned since their wedding registry in 2014.
The chef’s knife was, per Rakesh Kothari’s own account, “fine.”
The chef’s knife, per his wife Priya’s account, “did the job.”
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The chef’s knife, per the Boos, “understood the assignment.”
The new knives, per every party involved, are a completely different situation.
“He came home with a box,” the Boos said Wednesday, through a spokesperson. “He put the box on the counter. He opened it slowly. He was, honestly, being kind of theatrical about it. And then he pulled them out. One by one. And I saw them. And I understood, immediately, what was about to happen to my life.”
The knife set, purchased by Rakesh for $940 during what he described as “kind of a moment,” includes a gyuto, a santoku, a nakiri, a petty, a bread knife, a boning knife, a paring knife, and, per the box, “one specialty utility knife for tasks the other knives cannot handle.” The blades are hand-forged. The steel is described in the accompanying literature as “extraordinarily hard, extraordinarily sharp, and, per traditional Japanese principles, unforgiving of poor technique.”
The Boos, per the spokesperson, understood immediately that “poor technique” was a phrase that would, going forward, be applied to it.
“I have been in this house for six years,” the Boos said. “I have absorbed everything this family has thrown at me. I have absorbed the chicken. I have absorbed the onions. I have absorbed the — one time Priya cut a mango directly on me without a plate underneath, and I did not say a word. I did not complain. I did what a cutting board does. I received.“
The spokesperson paused.
“And now,” the Boos continued, “I am going to be receiving these.“
The knives, per Rakesh’s own account, arrived in a rosewood presentation case with individual magnetic docks. They came with what he described as “a whole care regimen.” The regimen, per the accompanying pamphlet, requires that each knife be honed on a leather strop after every use, sharpened on a whetstone every two to three weeks, hand-washed only in warm water, dried immediately with a lint-free cloth, and — critically — used only on cutting surfaces of a hardness rated at or below 1,375 Janka.
The Boos, per its manufacturer’s specifications, is rated at 1,010 Janka.
The knives are, per the pamphlet, “recommended for use with cutting boards rated 1,375 or lower.”
The Boos is, per the pamphlet’s language, “in range.”
The Boos is, per the Boos’s own understanding, “about to get its shit rocked.”
“He read the pamphlet out loud,” the Boos said. “He read it out loud, at the counter, with the knives on display, and he looked at me while he was reading it. He looked directly at me when he got to the part about hardness ratings. And I understood, in that moment, that the reason he was reading it out loud was so that I would know. So that I would know that he had checked. So that I would know that he had, in his mind, cleared the transaction with me. As if this was a mutual thing. As if I had a say.“
There was a long pause.
“I did not have a say,” the Boos added quietly.
Priya Kothari, when reached for comment, said she had not been consulted on the knife purchase.
“He came home and he had the box,” she said. “He said, Priya, I got us knives. I said, what knives. He said, these knives. I said, how much did those knives cost. He said, don’t worry about it. I said, how much did the knives cost, Rakesh. He said, nine hundred dollars. And I said, for knives. And he said, for the right knives. And I said, okay. And that was the extent of our conversation about the knives.”
She paused.
“The board looked scared,” she added.
The Boos, per the spokesperson, has been the household’s only cutting board for six years. It has developed grooves in specific patterns corresponding to Rakesh’s cutting habits. It has absorbed olive oil at what one board-care expert consulted for this article described as “an admirable rate.” It has been sanded down twice. It has been re-oiled monthly. It has been, per every measurable standard, cared for.
It has not, however, been cared for in the way that Japanese knives require it to be cared for.
Japanese knives, per the pamphlet, require boards that are “smooth, unmarked, and free of pre-existing grooves that may deflect the blade edge and cause micro-fracturing.” The Boos has, over six years of enthusiastic amateur home cooking, developed exactly the kind of pre-existing grooves the pamphlet warns against.
Rakesh, per direct examination Wednesday evening, was aware of this.
He was, per direct examination, planning to use the Boos anyway.
“I sanded him,” Rakesh said, gesturing at the freshly re-planed board. “I sanded him this afternoon. I re-oiled him. He is smoother than he has been in years. He is ready.“
The Boos, when this was read to it, was silent for a long moment.
“He sanded me,” it said finally. “He planed off six years of my patina. He removed the layer of me that had been me. He is calling it ready. I am calling it identity loss. We are, on the fundamentals, not aligned.”
The Boos paused.
“I liked those grooves,” it added. “Those grooves were my history. Every one of them was a meal. Every one of them was a Sunday. He erased all of them so that his new knives would not, quote, deflect. So that his new knives would slide across my surface, cleanly, without meeting any of the friction that six years of family cooking had built into me. So that his experience of using the new knives would be, quote, smooth.“
There was another pause.
“I want to be clear that I understand what happened,” the Boos added. “He did not choose the knives over me. He chose the experience of the knives over me. There is a difference. It does not, however, change the outcome.”
Rakesh, when the Boos’s position was read to him, was quiet for a long time.
“I didn’t know he felt that way,” he said.
He was informed that the Boos was, technically, a cutting board and did not have feelings.
He nodded slowly.
“I know,” he said. “I know. But you know what I mean.”
He looked at the board.
“He was a good board,” he said quietly.
The Boos, at press time, was sitting on the counter, freshly oiled, freshly sanded, freshly stripped of six years of accumulated character. The knife set was arranged in its rosewood dock beside it. Rakesh had, sources confirmed, planned to cook a small trial meal Wednesday evening — some carrots, some celery, a small onion — specifically to test the new knives against the newly resurfaced board.
He was, per Priya, “really excited.”
The Boos was, per the spokesperson, “ready to meet the moment.”
The Boos was, per the same spokesperson, also, quote, not thrilled.
At press time, Rakesh had removed the gyuto from its dock. He had, per direct observation, given the blade a small experimental hone against the leather strop. The blade was, per every available indication, extraordinarily sharp.
The Boos was, per every available indication, waiting.