The very first (water) stone I got was just dreamy, but I was never quite sure exactly what it was:
A bit of internet research, and some probable-but-not-100% confirmations from experts here led me into believing it was a Suehiro Cerax Combi. But whatever it was, it was excellent.
Eventually I'd grow to love the King 1200 just a little more than its 1k side, but the 3k part of it... oh my! Just a perfect stone; incredibly easy to use, good for polishing, muddy but not overly so, quick but not brutish, keen but bite-y. It sat square in the middle of every Aristotelian Golden Mean you could think of. And when it dished, it did so... elegantly... still sharpening perfectly right up until the point at which, with a few passes on a diamond plate, it would revert to nascent flatness with the minimum of fuss.
Over time neophilia led me to purchase and try various alternatives, but none of them would ever steal my heart away from the little yellow combi (though by now she grew frail and thin). Always there for me when I needed that ideal edge quickly. Always ready to help when I'd f***ed up an experiment going from 800 grit to a translucent ark. And so it was with some trepidation that a few weeks ago I gave it away to a friend who didn't have a stone for her own knives, and ordered myself a new Cerax 3k.
But when I received it today, the alarm bells rang...
Of course the stone was new for me - I'd just unwrapped it. But why was it new for them? How on earth had they possibly improved it?! I hoped to god this wasn't going to be like the last time someone served me their 'interpretation of a Negroni'. Please, please, please... Do Not F*** With The Classics.
But thankfully whoever is in charge of innovation at Suehiro is either admirably lazy, or recognises well a winning formula. With the first stroke I could tell that the stone was still perfect in every conceivable way.
Having it back in my permasoak bucket feels like having Batman on speed dial.
A bit of internet research, and some probable-but-not-100% confirmations from experts here led me into believing it was a Suehiro Cerax Combi. But whatever it was, it was excellent.
Eventually I'd grow to love the King 1200 just a little more than its 1k side, but the 3k part of it... oh my! Just a perfect stone; incredibly easy to use, good for polishing, muddy but not overly so, quick but not brutish, keen but bite-y. It sat square in the middle of every Aristotelian Golden Mean you could think of. And when it dished, it did so... elegantly... still sharpening perfectly right up until the point at which, with a few passes on a diamond plate, it would revert to nascent flatness with the minimum of fuss.
Over time neophilia led me to purchase and try various alternatives, but none of them would ever steal my heart away from the little yellow combi (though by now she grew frail and thin). Always there for me when I needed that ideal edge quickly. Always ready to help when I'd f***ed up an experiment going from 800 grit to a translucent ark. And so it was with some trepidation that a few weeks ago I gave it away to a friend who didn't have a stone for her own knives, and ordered myself a new Cerax 3k.
But when I received it today, the alarm bells rang...
Of course the stone was new for me - I'd just unwrapped it. But why was it new for them? How on earth had they possibly improved it?! I hoped to god this wasn't going to be like the last time someone served me their 'interpretation of a Negroni'. Please, please, please... Do Not F*** With The Classics.
But thankfully whoever is in charge of innovation at Suehiro is either admirably lazy, or recognises well a winning formula. With the first stroke I could tell that the stone was still perfect in every conceivable way.
Having it back in my permasoak bucket feels like having Batman on speed dial.
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