Culinary Institute of America and in NYC for the holiday. We spent many weekends and off-days in the city, and as was often the case we spent the days going from one bar to the next...this day was no exception. While stumbling through Chinatown, and with a brief stop for sake, we came upon a shop that sold kitchen-wares...we were all cooks so we looked. This is where I bought this knife...for something like $20.00. The women who sold it to me deftly wrapped the blade in multiple layers of newspaper but left the handle sticking out. I tucked it under my arm. Later while on a crowded subway we swayed a little more than the other passengers because of the alcohol. At any rate, for reasons I still find unexplainable the knife slipped from it's newspaper sheath and fell to the floor. You wouldn't think it would be heard on a crowded subway but it was. I'll just say this: if you want to see people in a crowded subway car scatter to opposite ends have a group of drunk guys drop a gleaming cleaver in the middle of it. As I bent to pick it up one of my friends slurred, "It's ok, we're cook's" (Paul, are you reading this?). I think of this story now-and-again. I think of it of fond drunken innocence of days past, but also of what a different world it was 25 years ago. If this would happen today not only would I probably have been tackled and restrained until authorities arrived, but the incident would have simultaneously appeared on the internet and twittered across the world. Anyhow, this is the brief story behind one of my favorite knives.