Ah, London knife sharping-somehow as old as time, yet still a very valid service. Gone are the days when every clutter in the kitchen had knives being honed on rough stones, with chefs squinting for that elusive edge of razor gleam. Nowadays, London has its artisans undertaking this task, making this very uninteresting skill a fine art that could very well compete with the best painters.

Suppose yourself walking into a shop. The air hums soft with a ‘zzzz’ of blades being coaxed back to splendor. He introduces himself as John, a burly lad with hands the size of bear paws and a grin wide as the Thames. He has sharpened knives longer than he cares to admit. “Every knife’s got a story,” he said, holding up one that was rather worse for wear.

“This one’s cut through more Sunday roasts than you’ve had hot dinners. Shame to see it dull.”

It is through such interactions that the real passion of these professionals gets driven home: they do not just scrape metal on stone; they put life into forgotten tools. Just think about it-the tender dance of pressure and patience, the subtlety of each blade’s curve and heft. One could almost say they converse with the steel, listening for what it wants.

Ever hear this: “A sharp knife is a safe knife”? A keen knife glides through tomatoes with the elegance of a ballerina. As Johnny says, “With a blunt knife, you’re better off trying to chop veg with a spoon!” Blunt tools invite slips and red fingers. Yikes! Let us not digress further from the skill factor involved. These sharpeners are like the conductors of an orchestra, honing their orchestra: with different techniques, each of these tools requires its particular feel. Waterstones for some, diamond wheels for others, and always the use of leather stops for that final gleaming finish, it is almost a ritual.