You May Not Need a Giant Chef’s Knife When a Midsize Knife Does the Trick

are kitchen knives Very personal. With chef’s knives, paring knives, and bread knives, you can do almost everything you need in the kitchen. But the more time you spend in the kitchen, the more your preferences evolve, and soon it becomes an n+1 thing, and you’re thinking about a cleaver in there.

There is a lot of space between most chef’s knives and pairing knives. What’s in that niche – often called small, preparation or utility knives – is often pretty awkward. Consider the knives you never use from a set and you’ll probably think of small, serrated knives or small knives that have no room for your fingers between the handle and the cutting board.

What if you’re a short person, or have small hands, or just think that a small but still high-functioning all-around knife might be your jam? What if the perfect version of those medium-sized knives actually turned out to be useful?

To my happiness, there are good people. With equal parts luck, research, and trial and error, I found both new and existing-but-flying-under-the-radar examples of medium-sized knives that were surprisingly functional, partly because of their size. The right people are incredibly helpful and the great ones are preparation monsters.

Messermeister’s Kawashima utility knife.
Courtesy of Messermeister

Recently, I saw hints at my favorite trade show that I might be on to something. At the Messermeister knife booth, a medium-sized blade stood out because of its olive wood handle and interesting geometry. It felt balanced and comfortable with room for any size hands to move back on the handle or move forward in a pinch grip. The important thing is that there was enough clearance, so the knuckles did not hit the cutting board at the bottom of the stroke. Keeping my eyes open, I saw more potential in Cangshan, Terrarias-Bongagne and Zwilling. This blew my mind. I was reminded of the Wusthof Classic Chef’s Knife which comes in a 5-inch size. Similarly, I hoped I could find a smaller version of a nimble Japanese knife called Kiritsuke and call the good folks at Seisuke Knives in Portland, Oregon.

Soon, I had a pile of beautiful knives on my cutting board. I hid my own knives in my knife roll for storage and, for weeks, used the new, smaller samples as my daily driver.

The more I used them, the more I understood what I wanted. First, I threw their useless names out the window: petty, useful, prep… whatever. Next, I decided that my beloved Tadafusa Santoku, the shortest of my long knives, would be the longest, about 6.5 inches. “Doing it all” seemed like a stretch for these knives, but they certainly needed to be able to do a lot. I was willing to work with the knife to learn its strengths, but preferred something that could handle different cutting styles and all types of food. He had to be a willing monster.