The fog slowly thins and we find ourselves in the Broida household for Thanksgiving. As the last wisps of fog disappear, we see a group around the table—Jon, his wife, various aunts and uncles, Abraham Lincoln, a topless Barbie Benton, and a woodchuck. (Hey, I don’t know, it’s Jon’s dream.) A roasted turkey is in the center. Golden brown, stuffing piled all around, beautiful. “Jon, will you do the honors?” asks Barbie, handing him a carving knife. Jon smiles at first, then a look of horror crosses his face as he sees the knife. (Pictured above.) “Baking soda!” he cries. “Somebody get me some baking soda!” “No more,” says the woodchuck, with an evil grin. “We’ve got it all. All.” “But my knives,” says Jon. “My knives. What will happen to my knives?” “Patina,” purrs Barbie. “Don’t you love it?” “Nooooooo” screams Jon, as the fog closes in around the table. ————————- The pictured knife is an old Sabatier. The patina was created purely by accident but I like it. (I think.) If you look closely, you’ll notice that it’s developing orange highlights that I’m (almost) sure aren’t rust. I’m hoping that more will come. The recipe, as best as I can reconstruct it, is available upon request.