The Best Gift, Redux

The best gifts are the ones with heart and soul poured into them, the ones that cannot be replaced because of their uniqueness.

Along these lines, I told you some time ago about my cutting boards from my Dad, posting on Christmas Day in 2015 when he gave me a brand-new handmade one.

Favorite Kitchen Gifts: Love My Cutting Boards

My Dad was a guiding light, not just for me, but for many, many other people. He was goodness incarnate. He was funny, kind, warm, humble, creative and smart, a servant leader who was gifted at building and maintaining close relationships. We lost him in the summer of 2017, making my Dad-crafted cutting boards even more precious to me.

Never would there be another.

The 2015 Christmas Cutting Board was a Go-To for Me

I used that 2015 cutting board a LOT, thinking of my Dad every time—both before and after he went over the rainbow in 2017.

I used it in the old pink kitchen; it was a supporting actor in many recipe-development pictures for the blog.

I used it in our shiny new kitchen after the much-awaited remodel was completed in January of 2022. (Dad never saw the new kitchen but it definitely contains some of his spirit.)

I used the cutting board, and used it, and used it, until one day, I could use it no more.

The Cutting Board Catastrophe

Here’s what happened.

Have you ever cooked with spaghetti squash? It’s a delicious and versatile gourd, but it’s a bit of a beast to crack open. Actually, not a bit of a beast, but a full-grown, muscular, growling, tooth-baring beast. My friend Rose reached out for help once when she was stuck in the middle of the squash disaggregation process, literally. The subsequent post telling the hilarious story is below, and I encourage you to read it. Six years later, it still makes me laugh AND inspires me. Rose was intrepid.

Emergency Responder for Squash Disaggregation: a Tale of Triumph Over Gourd-Adversity

Earlier this year, I found my knife stuck in the heart of a big spaghetti squash in just the same way Rose had all those years ago. I was using my Dad-made cutting board and couldn’t tap into my Rosie the Riveter mojo to summon the necessary muscle, so I called in The Grill-Meister. He decided that an additional tool was necessary, and got a hammer. He successfully cracked open the squash and freed the knife, but sadly, it was too much for the cutting board, which also cracked open. The force of the blow broke apart the wood in places, because the cutting board sat on little 1/4 feet and therefore wasn’t evenly supported from a blow. Neither of us realized that it couldn’t take brute force in the middle.

I was sad.

Really sad.

But I didn’t want The Grill-Meister to feel bad. So I just put the pieces into a bag, stored them in the garage, got out another cutting board, and finished making the meal.

I was sad.

But I needed to get over it.

Rockwood Boards at the Farmers’ Market

The next time I was at the Tomball Farmers’ Market, I found myself in front of the booth for Rockwood Boards, staring, fixated, at the beautiful handmade cutting boards created by owner Pat Jacobs in partnership with his wife, Peggy.

The craftsmanship in their wares far exceeded my Dad’s capabilities, but like Dad’s creations, these beautiful pieces are handmade, with love. Each one is different. Each one brings with it a story based on the wood, a story that only the board knows in full and can never tell: what forest the tree came from, how old it was before being felled, what animals and birds lived in and around it, which humans relied on the tree, and how long the wood sat dormant before it came into Pat’s hands to be crafted into a cutting board.

Like Dad’s creations, each Rockwood Boards artisanal cutting board is destined to join a family and become part of their stories, because the kitchen is the heart of the house, and the cutting boards are the hands of the kitchen. This is where the stories start.

It struck me then, as I was taking in the Rockwood Boards inventory on display: I can buy a new board and dedicate it to Dad’s memory. I can harness my good feelings in a different way,

So I did.

I told Pat and Peggy the story of Dad and his cutting boards, and the one that broke, and how important my cutting boards are, and invited them into my story.

They were awesome. We chatted about their business, shared stories and together, picked out a new one for me. It was different than Dad’s, but I knew that I would transfer some of my affection and memories, and intended for the new cutting board from Rockwood to become an heirloom in its own right.

That new board has been in a few posts since I bought it this summer, like the one about empanadas. Look how beautiful the backdrop of that dark wood is with the empanada in the foreground. Yummmmmmm….

Recipe Time: Pulled Pork and Smoked Corn Empanadas

More pics from that recipe photo shoot with the cutting board as a very talented supporting actor.

I love this new cutting board, and I still think of Dad whenever I use it. It’s part of the ongoing cutting board saga in our family.

It’s part of our story now.

An Idea Takes Root and Becomes Reality, Inscription and All

Our saga doesn’t stop with the new cutting board, no sirree!! I realized that the in-house talent and creativity at Rockwood Boards could most likely do something restorative to my broken cutting board.

The Best Gift, Redux?

The next time I was at the farmers’ market, I asked this very question.

“ABSOLUTELY!” was the answer. Bring it in the next time you come, or better yet, email us a picture right away.

So I retrieved the cutting board from its garage purgatory and photographed it, front and back. It still had some residue from the spaghetti squash struggle on it, and was looking bedraggled far beyond the big crack up the middle.

When Dad gave me the cutting board on Christmas Day of 2015, I ran to the kitchen to grab a Sharpie and asked him to sign it for me. “It’s an instant heirloom, Dad, so we need to make sure its provenance is clear,” I said. “The kids can fight over who gets to inherit!”

He was flattered and tickled and scribbled an inscription, shown below in a post-catastrophe picture.

I sent the images to Rockwood Boards, who confirmed they could do something to bring my cutting board back to life, and I took it to them the next time I made it to the Saturday farmers’ market.

I knew the board was in good hands.

There was a quick confirmation that the board could be restored, perhaps at a slightly smaller size due to the way the break happened. The repair was quickly completed and the wood was restored to its former glory, and all was confirmed with a photo.

Wow!

The Best Gift, Redux!!!

And then, from the Rockwood peeps, an interesting question: “The restoration removed the inscription; would you like us to add it back? Peggy can do laser-engraving it to match what your Dad wrote.”

Ummmm, let me think about it for .005 seconds… YES, YES, YES!!!

Now Back in the Rotation

The cutting board was restored to perfection, albeit slightly smaller.

The inscription was added back via the laser technology.

This glorious and practical kitchen tool, nay, kitchen asset that was handcrafted by my father, is back in the rotation at Glover Gardens. That’s the vegetable prep for some recent homemade black beans below.

That’s a Wrap

It’s all tied up with a bow on it for me now as I reflect on my blessings on Christmas Day of 2023.

I have my Dad’s original cutting boards from 1974 when he was out of work and times were lean (see the original post linked at the beginning of this one).

I have the 2015 version which now has an additional story due to the spaghetti squash calamity and subsequent rescue and restoration by Rockwood Boards.

I have the new board that I bought to remind me of Dad.

I have my memories.

I have the meals made on these boards—past, present and future.

And most importantly, I have the most precious thing of all: the ongoing experiences with the loved ones who share the meals, the memories and the stories with me.

It’s the best gift of all.

Redux.

And in remembrance of Thomas Frank Harvell, whose presence on this earth for 78 years enriched the lives of many, and especially mine.

Most especially mine. The cutting boards are symbolic of the value he added—and continues to add—to my life. And I am most grateful to Rockwood Boards for the restoration and The Best Gift, Redux.

Merry Christmas. I wish you all the richness of your memories, the ones you already have, and the ones still to be made.

© 2023, Glover Gardens