My Magical Mandoline

When I was in culinary school, the “it” tool was a mandoline, a slicer with a very sharp stainless steel blade that would cut paper-thin vegetables with a swift flick of the wrist. I remember strolling through Chinatown with my culinary cronies to buy one: a washed-out green, made-in-Japan Benriner slicer with a blade that almost begged to take off the tip of your finger or the skin off your knuckles. This rudimentary device, which 16 years ago cost me well under $20, wasn’t the expensive kind you see today in Williams-Sonoma retailing for more than $100. It did come with a plastic tray to catch veggie slices and a ‘safety device’ to shield fingers from the blade, but being caught with any of that protective gear at that time would have been, simply put, uncool. We just took our chances and heeded the warning on the side that said, “WATCH YOUR FINGERS.”

Through the years my mandoline definitely got a workout. For a long time it hung prominently on a nail above my sink and produced countless slices of onions, carrots, eggplants, potatoes and zucchinis week after week for some new culinary creation—be it a fancy polenta vegetable terrine or a potato gratin.

Today, as I was looking in the cabinet for a straw for Gianna’s chocolate milk, the mandoline, streaked with orange stains from the years of abuse it inflicted on so many carrots, came tumbling out of its retirement, not having seen the light of day in over 10 years. When Gianna asked me what it was, I told her it was going to make “magical cinnamon apple chips” and she should pull up a chair to watch the show. I quickly went to work making paper-thin slices of her favorite apple, a Pink Lady. I gave them a quick dusting of cinnamon, a splash of lemon juice, a sprinkling of sugar and a dash of salt. Gianna helped my by laying the slices on a baking sheet. About two hours later we had the perfect snack—crispy apple chips, thanks to my old friend, the mandoline. —Nicole Denis

1 comment

Roxy Yumm!