I filleted a cod this afternoon, and then I made fish stock with the non fillet part. Sort of a “whole buffalo” mentality here around the mansion. Used thyme that I grew myself, too … and a leek from the CSA. Anyway, I was wrapping up the “fish head in a pot, process” and I had a catastrophic sort of knife-drop incident. One of the ones where the knife is spinning in front of my head and I’m like “how the hell, um, crap?”
Anyway, the hands did what they’ve been told a thousand times to do: Get the hell out of the way of the knife. You drop a knife (or a sword, or whatever), you get your hands out of the way. Do not grab the falling blade. The hands were safely behind my back almost as soon as the “knife in the air” alert went out.
The knees, on the other hand swung into the “cushion the landing of the valuable item which you have dropped” routine. They’ve won praise in similar situations recently for neatly catching my phone and then sliiiiiding it down my calf. Very slick. So the knees are like “we’re ON it.”
Meanwhile, the conscious mind had time to say “no knees! noooooo!”
The knife wound up sticking me perfectly vertically, about an inch away from my kneecap. It sort of bounced off my leg. I was like “hey, that wasn’t so … um … blood soaking through my jeans now.” Anyway, a deep but narrow wound that only now is beginning to hurt. That was me, limping up the stairs with my pant leg hiked above my knee to avoid (further) staining my jeans. Yay.
For what it’s worth, the fillets were some of the best I’ve done, and the broth smelled awesome. Thanks, cod.
