A Steel Is Not a Sharpener

The afternoon stayed mild and soft, so I walked up the lane to the piazza for the last of the light. From the outlook the valley stacks up in hazy ridges, one behind another, and the chestnut trees below have started to turn — not gold yet, just a tired olive with yellow creeping in at the edges. An old man was holding down the bench with great concentration, doing absolutely nothing, which I respect more every year. I stayed about twenty minutes, until the air went cool and somebody’s kitchen started smelling of onions, and then walked home the long way round.

Back in the kitchen I finally dealt with the knife block, where two knives had been sitting ignored because they’d gone dull. Honing and sharpening are not the same thing, which I keep having to relearn: the steel I run along the edge every week doesn’t cut anything, it just pushes the rolled-over edge back into line, and when that stops working the blade needs an actual stone. You can tell the difference the moment you cut a tomato. A dull knife is also more dangerous than a sharp one, because a dull knife makes you push, and pushing is how people cut themselves. I did the two that needed it, then decided the bread knife could wait — it’s a long serrated thing and I’ve never been sure I wouldn’t ruin it.

Supper was pasta e fagioli, because the evening had gone cool enough to want it and there was a jar of cannellini in the cupboard. Practical food: beans cooked soft with a bay leaf, a little passata, a handful of small pasta dropped in at the end so it thickens the broth, olive oil over the top and far too much black pepper. I ate it with bread and the last of the pecorino, and it tasted like the season finally agreeing to be autumn.

The bread knife is still dull and the stone is still out on the counter. I’ve decided that’s fine. Some things get finished tomorrow, and tomorrow is not in short supply.

Recipe: Pasta e Fagioli

Ingredients

• 250 g dried cannellini beans, soaked overnight (or 2 tins, drained and rinsed)
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 small onion, 1 carrot, 1 celery stalk, finely chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, sliced
• 3 tablespoons olive oil, plus more to finish
• 200 ml passata or chopped tomatoes
• 150 g small pasta (ditalini or similar)
• salt, black pepper, grated pecorino to serve

Preparation

1. If using dried beans, drain the soaked beans and simmer them in fresh water with the bay leaf until tender, 45–60 minutes, salting only near the end. Keep the cooking water.
2. In a heavy pot, soften the onion, carrot, and celery in the olive oil over medium heat, about 8 minutes. Add the garlic and cook a minute more.
3. Add the beans with a few ladles of their cooking water and the passata. Simmer 15 minutes, then mash a ladleful of beans against the side of the pot to thicken the broth.
4. Stir in the pasta and cook it right in the soup until al dente, adding hot water if it gets too thick.
5. Off the heat, stir in a drizzle of olive oil and plenty of black pepper. Serve with pecorino.