Yeah, I know. Awesome topic.

   But I watch a lot of programs on the food channels – well, I mean I’ve seen many cooking shows TV. And by that I mean I catch the occasional half-minute of celebrity chefs’ camera masturbation while cruising the channels for something more rewarding to watch. Like Family Guy. 

   Anyhow, I recently caught a snippet of Simply Ming, starring Ming Tsai. The network must love this guy – tall, prettyboy Asian chef whose smug, captain-of-the-tennis-squad English doesn’t immediately make viewers pull the skin back on their temples and giggle out “Honey! You wan pan fly noodoo tonight?” As the antithesis of Martin Yan and a Chinese-American male embodiment of Martha Stewart there’s nothing funny about him. Viewers are likely to take his show seriously, regardless of any substance in his cooking lessons.

   Crap! Ginger! I was about to get caught up in the rant and slander and forgot about the fucking ginger. Ming was about to peel some on TV and offered to show us how. Hot damn! I’ve been skinning ginger and its rhizome kin for better than twenty years without giving it much thought. But here was a famous cook in a sassy pink shirt discussing it on cable. He even gave the segment a collegiate-sounding title – Ginger 101. Well, heck I thought I oughta just sit back and listen.

   After banging some ginger on his counter, sniffing it and rolling his eyes back like he was getting the best prostate exam ever he got ready to peel. Get a knife…check. Cut off knobby parts…check. Grab a spoon …che…er…what? A spoon? All those years I’d been using peelers, spending two or three bucks a decade on new ones when then the things got dull. What a frickin’ rube I’ve been – there’s always a spoon around.

   To be honest, I’ve known about the spoon thing for ages. I’ve seen other TV chefs insist it’s the way to skin ginger and I’ve watched cooks struggle through spooning in kitchens I’ve worked in. And Ming’s right – you can use a spoon to peel ginger. Especially on “young” ginger (harder to find and doesn’t really require skinning), ginger  so wet it’s on the verge of getting moldy and ginger whose skin is already moldy. On plain old ginger a spoon is as effective as a clam shell or a claw hammer; a point Ming helps make as he fails to spoon the skin off cleanly, gives up and nonchalantly switches to a knife.

   “…the other way which I like to do is use the back of a knife,” becomes his alibi for ditching the spoon. And he takes the back of his swell Kyocera ceramic knife and proceeds to finish stripping the root in stuttering form. It works out better for him – the overall thin blade of the ceramic sure helped  – and he finishes with something of a See how easy that was?

   Except that it wasn’t easy. Had Ming ever been in prison he’d know a spoon works best if you sharpen it on a cement floor first. And a knife back is fine if you’re out of options and unconcerned about peeling your own hand with the sharp edge (btw – what the hell is wrong with cutting edge?). Chefs, especially those on public display, are so enamored with gimmicks they fail to remember what works best and what’s truly easiest for the everyday cook.

   You wanna know what really peels ginger easily and quickly? A fucking peeler. The thing just about everyone has in their kitchen. Do you turn to the spoon drawer for cucumbers or carrots? Do you reach for the back of a knife for potatoes and apples? See, most of us don’t prepare food for 8 hours a day so having ninja-like knife skills ain’t necessary. And Master Ming proved he was no MacGyver when it came to silly alternative methods. If you want as many uses as possible for your little hundred buck ceramic dagger then knock yourself out. Otherwise reach for the peeler. That’s what you bought it for.